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puppen -> I lost my virginity to BDSM phone sex (7/7/2008 8:10:53 PM)
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Am I doomed?
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“Hey baby…” It always started that way, enchanted into a tepid contentment only he could bring. It always started that way.
Her back arched against the tub; the porcelain slick, cold despite the steaming water that drenched her hair and saturated her skin in its heat. Her fingers curled deep within her cunt as her walls consumed every inch of trembling pleasure she could provide. Her opposite hand curled tight against the phone, dutifully wrapped in its plastic, protective bag as her breaths became short, ragged, and hot.
“Oh, please, please,” she begged, her voice dripped in a honeysuckle ecstasy she could not find words to describe. Her fingers ravaged her pussy as her other hand fell to her clit; the phone was pressed tight to cheek and shoulder as control was all but failing. “Please Master,” she released a low moan, a whimper of delicious ill-content as his voice tainted her imagination further.
“Come on baby,” he urged her, “press down on my cock. Force your ass down, I won’t let you breathe until you make Master cum.” She cried in desperation, she was not alone in the shower; no, eyes closed she was his slowly suffocating slave-cunt, shackled tight to the shower bar, both legs spread, inviting, wanting nothing more than to take him, to finish him.
Her breath tightened as though she could feel both of his hands as they tightened around her neck, as they forced her air down. Her hips rocked against him, she slammed her ass around his dick, and she willed it to hurt her. ‘Make me cry,’ she wanted to scream, to beg, ‘oh Master make me cry just to take pleasure in my pain, my delicious ache.’
She was a slut for him; her imagination went wild to his words, and her reality slipped away. She would please this man, this devoted sadist, this Master and he would reward her with his seed. Alone in her shower, a scream passed her lips, and moans filled the small tiled bathroom. The world had lost all sense and she was not there.
She slammed her fingers into her cunt at every word; she let him take her away. She was his inspection slut. She was his property and her world would fall to black if she did not finish him.
“Bitch, you’ll drain your Master’s cock or you’ll die, you better make me cum,” oh how she moaned at this.
She wanted nothing more. She impaled her ass on her Master’s cock and her muscles tightened as she milked him of his seed. She screamed again, alone in her bathroom, and her hands worked at her pussy; she would be raw, she would be deliciously sore, but the story was almost complete.
“Baby, oh baby,” his voice set her off, and she drank it in as the water pooled beneath her body; she had blocked the drain throughout their conversation.
“You have my permission,” her eyes opened for the first time since the story had begun, wide, pristine green, and far away; her body trembled.
“You have my permission,” he repeated, and her head spun.
There was nothing. There was no bathroom. There was no water. There was no phone, no plastic bag, no soap, no light; no need for any of it. There was just his voice and her heat. She sobbed as it finally began to happen. Salt-kissed tears mingled and trailed down her flushed cheeks with the warm water.
“Oh, oh no… Oh God, oh God…” Her words were chased away as her body lost all control and her hands became wild. Moans, guttural noises that had never before emerged, escaped her throat and filled the room.
Unexpected, no anticipation, she was gratefully being robbed of a cherry past its prime. Her hands worked fervently against her cunt as her body began to spasm; as it was rocked with waves of warmth never before experienced. Her fingers slicked as her muscles slowly relented to release her.
Her first orgasm.
She mewled in submission against the porcelain, and allowed her body to slide to collapse. Oh the delicious fire that filled her body, a heat he stroked into life, it spread to every fine inch of her being. Her body quaked in sweet, sensual surrender, and the phone lay next to her ear; it was slowly drummed upon by running water.
“Hey baby…”
C.L.T.
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Credits: Resident Sadist and my hellishly dirty imagination. Thank you.
Don't steal my writing you whipper-snappers. That's just silly. [8|]
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