There I was, kneeling, head bowed with my eyes gently closed, a bottle of lube in my hand, waiting…
P was away for six nights, working with a friend, and I had made him aware that he would be welcome to visit.
N, Thank you, I will use you on Monday night. Sir
I was expecting him at 6pm. An email arrived shortly after 4pm saying he would be arriving a little later and I should be waiting as requested at 6.15 instead. I had given him directions and sent pictures to back this up as my home was a new build so not on sat nav. My door was just open, and I waited, shivering with the chilly draft and anticipation. I heard his footsteps before the door opened then closed again. He had arrived, he was in my home. It was Monday and he was there, claiming me again. He took my sight first, then explored my body. Before I had always walked into his space, his scent had been there waiting to envelop me when I walked in. What took me by surprise was the intensity as I inhaled him; clean and with the background scent of cologne as he arrived, yet as he buried himself in my face I received a shot of pure man. I found my happy place and melted where I knelt. With my collar fixed in place and my clothes removed I crawled, blind, through my familiar home. I had been told there would be more spanking this time, and it would be harder. I would also have to say I am Sir’s slut with each strike, and thank him afterwards. As I was speaking I worried that my voice would be irritating to him, and I felt a little awkward doing it. But I did as I had been asked, and when I checked in with him the next day I stated my fears, it wasn’t the words (I love being Sir’s slut!) but my voice which caused my worry. I will tell you if something you do annoys me N was exactly the reassurance that I needed, and I knew he meant it.
There were just two things on his introductory list which I had agreed to try for him, even though they made me nervous.
One of those I was introduced to that night, while I sat on my living room floor, propped up on my sofa. He had bound me and tormented me with nipple clamps, forcing me to orgasm until my legs became weak. Then he sat me down, inserted a dildo and attached more clamps to my labia before working me over with his wand again. All things I had enjoyed previously, though I’d never reached orgasm in this position before and cynically thought it wouldn’t happen that night. How wrong I was! As I came down from my first ever seated climax, feeling exposed and utterly brazen, there was a very odd sensation inside of me. Not bad at all, rather lovely actually and then I came again, and again. The sensation became a little more intense, along with the orgasms which hit with increasing frequency. No sooner had I finished one than I seemed to be asking for another Go on then being the standard reply.
Before my first scene with sir I had no idea that I could enjoy so much pleasure as this.
This pleasure came partly from electronic stimulation, something that, until that very evening, had really worried me. I had no doubt that he was being gentle in his introduction, because he knew that it was a worry for me. The fact that he hadn’t forewarned me of using it on that occasion, and that it was a mild sensation that I almost couldn’t put my finger on. When I asked him later about whether he had used e-stim it wasn’t confirmed, I was left to mull it over. If it was electrical play then I was more than happy to continue exploring this for him, if not then….whatever it was…please, please, please could I have some more??
You trust, I keep you safe
This was something he would say regularly, but his actions proved it to be true. With every email, every task and every scene I became more and more trusting of him. For someone who didn’t trust easily this was a huge step. With the care he took to introduce me to his basic BDSM interests, and the way that he protected me between each meeting by setting boundaries and offering guidance how could I not feel safe. After he had left me that Monday evening I spent a happy couple of hours cooking, dancing round my kitchen and typing up my reaction to the experiences. My thighs were singing from the belt he had used, my labia were pulsing from the clamps and (what I assumed was) electricity and the grin on my face told a story in itself.
I was very much Sir’s happy little slut.