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I have been on Collarme for a year now. Happy Anniversary to me! I have had the pleasure of meeting many new people, both Dom and sub. I have been very lucky to have found a great teacher and mentor, and although I don't hear from him anymore, I'm lucky to have had his experience and attention. I wish him well. this year I have learned about what I like, what I don't like and what turns on many of the various Doms I've met.
But I'm not finished. I feel my education continues. |
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Part 2
Through my sobs, I can barely hear the persistent knock at my door. The sharp raps become clearer the more my breathing returned to normal. I knew it wasn't Him.
Pulling my jeans above my waist and wiping my sticky fingers on the pockets, I rise from the couch and slowly walk to the door. It was Dre'. I had been dating him for a couple of weeks. Tall, athletic and chocolate bown skin- he would have made any woman a fine mate...almost any woman.
"Hey, baby. What took you so long? I was beginning to think you didn't want to see me." Perfect white teeth gleamed through his broad smile. I didn't have the energy to lie to him, or to myself, so I said nothing, and move aside to allow him entrance.
We sat on the couch and he stretched his long legs out before him while I huddle in one of the corners. He just stared at me. What a site I must be- hair tussled, eyes reddened with my jeans, still unbuttoned and slightly open at the top. I looked like I was ready to be taken, made love to, fucked...hard. And I was, just not by him. Sadly, that was a fact lost on him. Our two week old sexual encounters have been exhilarating- for him. For me, it has been an exercise in frustration. I suck his balls, he breaks out in a falsetto scream and pops off before I truly have a chance to enjoy the heat and taste of his soft sacs on my tongue. Whenever he's fucking me, all I hear is his feeble mumble, "Is this good, baby? Does this feel good?" So unsure, no confidence. I simply respond with equally feeble, "ohh"s and "ahh"s to encourage his orgasm and end my torture.
"Baby you look so good", he says. "If you wanted your man to come over why didn't you just call me?" My man? Him? The corners of my eyes start to burn with the threat of impending tears. Lord, if he only knew. He moves from his lounging position on the couch to kneel in front of me. I turn my head slightly so he wouldn't see the tears glisten in my eyes. He moistens his full lips with his tongue as he runs his hands up my thighs towards my open jeans.
"What do you need baby?", he asks. What do I need? He has no clue. He is totally incapable of giving me what I need- of being who I need. His hands reach their goal at the top of my jeans and take a firm grasp of the fabric. I sigh as the wells of my eyes begin to fill and raise my hips. Get this over quickly. After tonight, I'll say goodbye to Dre and find Him. I'll beg and plead for understanding and forgiveness.
He pulls my jeans down towards my ankles and off, tossing them aside. Palming my knees, me pushes my thighs apart, revealing my still glistening pussy.
"Ready for me, baby?" I close my eyes and lean my head back against the cushions and allow the first tear to run down my cheek. His tongue immediately dives inside me (the next tear). I hear his greedy sucking on my lips as I lay there (another tear). "Do you like this baby? (another tear). My sobs begin quietly then grow in strength with each of his tongue's intrusion into my pussy. He looks up at me. "Baby, what's wrong?"
"She's not enjoying it", said the deep but quiet voice. I look toward the door and through my tears, can barely made out the figure standing in my open doorway. But I didn't need to see Him. I knew His presence, the way He filled a room, His smell, His taste, the way the timber of His voice sent the right amount of heat and electricty through my ears and down my back, making me sit up stiff as a board but melt like hot lava.
I'd forgot to close the door.
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Part 1
I look at my cell phone for what seems like the hundreth time in the last 30 minutes. No calls, no messages. Why hasn't he called? I reach for the cordless phone and dial my cell. The familiar "Whatever, whenever" ringtone by Jill Scott assures me that the device is working perfectly. So why hasn't he called? My hand ventures down the front of my jeans to try to relieve my clit, but I can't quite reach the exact spot. My need....it's starting again. I plop down on the couch in resignation. Pissed. Hurt. Horney.
Sir said that it would be this way. He said that no ordinary relationship would satisfy my need. I needed to serve, to give my pleasure away, to please. He gave me permission to try anyway. I should have listened. I ignored the advice of the one man, who probably knew me better than anyone else on Earth, to date a possiblity. And here I sat alone another night. I haven't heard from Sir in 3 weeks. I threw the cell phone into the farthest corner of my couch and wrapped my arms around my waist.
I felt warm tears fill the wells in my eyes. I needed him but I was too ashamed to call him. I couldn't. And my body needed his so badly. I needed his heat. The feel of his breath on my skin. I needed to feel his gaze on my body. He ruled me- commanded me. The taste of his soft sacks in my mouth were like candy. If I were good he'd allow me to kneel between his legs and suck my fill of him. Just that thought sent my poor neglect clit into overdrive. I rocked back and forth in my seat and allowed my tears to slide down my face. The back and forth motion caused a delicious friction on my needy clit. I pressed me knees together and reached under my shirt to free my breast from my bra and pulled at one of my hardened peaks. I needed to cum, but it wasn't enough. My clit begged to be sucked, licked, caressed, milked. I unfastened the single button at the top of my jeans and shoved them down to my ankles. I spread my knees wide and imagined Sir lounged in the chair across from me...naked with one leg thrown over the arm. He knows how much I crave the taste of his sacks in my mouth.
"Spread your lips", he'd command.
"Yes, Sir", I'd reply, using two fingers to separate my full wet lips. Now my throbbing clit was exposed, ready for what ever my Sir wanted.
My breathing hastened at my daydream. I licked the last of my salty tears from my lips and concentrated on my mental masterbation.
"Play with your clit. Dip two fingers inside your pussy and taste your juices", he'd command.
"Aahh! My clit is so sensitive! Please!" But I did as I was instructed, plunging my fingers into my hot pussy, coating them with my wetness and rasing them to my lips to lick them clean. "Mmmmmm"
He smiled at my reaction. " I know you taste good,baby". He'd rise from the chair and grab a soft leather flogger. He'd walk over to me and brush the soft material over my caramel skin.
"Spread your legs wider." He rubs the head of the flogger against my clit and dips it into my wetness. "Very good", he'd praise.
He's raise the flogger and swipe at my breasts. Then again, but this time lower. Another swipe to my belly. Then he slaps the material against my pussy. Again..and again...and again.
"Ahh! Please!" Heat. Waves of heat. Each stroke create another wave. All concentrated on my clit. I needed to cum. I needed to give it all to him.
I grabbed my clit and rubbed it, pulled at it, trying to get ease the fire that had ignited between my legs. I pulled at my nipples, just as Sir did. I leaned over to spank my ass, just as Sir did. I finger fucked my pussy, just as Sir did. But it was no use. I needed him. I couldn't cum without him. My tears resumed their trek down my face. I burried my face in my couch pillows as true sorrow stormed through my body. This was all my fault.
Then there was a knock on the door... |
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*vexed and rubbing eyes*
I have just had the weirdest series of messages regarding my name. I chose it because it, like it's country of origin, is beautiful and suited me and my personality. But I just had a (and I'll use this term loosely) Dom who questioned me about why I, a black woman, chose a name whose country is Arabic in derivation. When I cut and pasted a web page explaining who Bast was, he offended my intelligence.
*big sigh*
Please let me make this plain. I am a submissive, not an idiot. I am many things (sensual, full figured, a writer, a dreamer, funny, a great cook, a wonderful lover, giving...did I mention modest?) but I've never been an idiot. If I cut and pasted the reply, it meant that I didn't have either the time or energy to give a lesson in Egyptian Goddesses.
Just because I'm a submissive doesn't mean I can't also kick your tail in chess (well, maybe not chess, I haven't played in years. But spades or checkers..you'd better watch out!).
Ok..I feel better now. |
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He settles the frosty bowl at the apex of her moist thighs and leans in to inhale her delicious musky scent. The action ignites a fire at her core. He scoops a spoonful of the cold confection.
"Ah, just as I thought- not enough cream." His crystal blue eyes captures her gaze- and plunges the cold spoon into her creamy hot pussy.
"Aaaaagh! Master, PLEASE!", she throws her head back and screams. Her bonds struggle to restrain her thrashing limbs. She squeezes her eyes shut as she feels melting ice cream trail a sweet path from her pussy to her anus. "Please! Mercy!", she begs.
"If you come without permission, there will be none", he warns her just before he raises the spoon and devours his treat. "Hmmmm. So good", he quietly whispers. He delighted at the salty smooth taste of her juices mixed with creamy ice cream. He discreetly shifted his hard cock, strained painfully against his jeans.
He continues to eat his decadent dessert, paying no attention to her whimpers or her gasps for air. The spoon makes its journey from bowl ...to pussy... to mouth. He reaches up with his free hand to grab her nipple and twirl her hard chocolate nipple between his thumb and forefinger.
It was too much. The firm way he sweetly tortured her nipple, the cold ice cream diving between her moist lips...shit- just her Master's presence between her thighs, smelling her, tasting her. Too much. He was trying to kill her. Just breathing was an effort. She needed to come. She needed to have her release.
The spoon finally clanked into the empty bowl. "Now", she thought. "He'll let me come now." She let a faint smile grace her lips, pleased that she had obeyed Master.
But instead, he wrapped his arms around the outside of her thighs and pulled her legs farther apart. His head lunged down and he captured her clit between his teeth. He sucked.
She screamed....... |
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My erotic Good Humor Man was still in my thoughts when I returned to my office later that afternoon. So I sat at my desk, turned on my computer and proceeded to stare at nothing...
He smiles at her. "You've been very patient. I'm proud of you. And I think you've earned a reward- I'll have my dessert first." He moves toward an old china cabinet opposite the table and gathers a large spoon and a bowl and places them beside her trembling thighs. Next, he grabs a chair and a tub of ice cream and returns to His place between her legs.
"Praline and Cream is my favorite flavor. But there is never enough cream in the receipe for me. Fortunately, I have you." As He leans in to lay His head on her left thigh, He covers to top of her mound and allows his padded thumb to graze her sensitive clit. Air rushes into her lungs and her nipples harden into tight chocolate kisses. She cannot prevent the flood of juices flowing towards her tight anus. In an barely audible whisper, she pleads, "Master, please."
"Master, please what?"
Her tongue peaks out to moisten her dry nervous lips.
"Enjoy Your Dessert, Master".
He smiles, pleased with her response. "And so I shall."
He picks up a spoon and begins to fill his bowl.
Then my supervisor walks in for a report. Dammit.
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There's a reason why I'm no one's supervisor. I'm too easily caught daydreaming. I often just watch people and create little scenes about a random person's sensual affairs of that day. For example, I was on my way to visit a patient. While sitting at a stoplight, I watched a man carry 2 HUGE ice cream tubs into an underground cellar in His backyard.
He was a beautiful man. His strong arms easily carried the heavy burden in His arms. The heat persuaded Him to forego a t-shirt today so I was permitted to a wonderful view. What if that ice cream wasn't exactly meant for the neighborhood kiddies? What if He had her on display on top of the table in the far corner of the cellar, her limbs secured, each tightly bound to their own corner. He walks in between her legs.......bends at the waist...and inhales.
Her heavy, moist perfume seeps into his lungs and quickens his pulse. He raises his eyes and looks at her. He looks....hungry. Did he just taste her? Her legs tremble and she begins to squirm against her binds.
"Lunch is almost ready", He says.
Then the light turned green......
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