Текст книги "Her Web Master"
Автор книги: Normandie Alleman
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Текущая страница: 8 (всего у книги 14 страниц)
CHAPTER TWENTY
The training relationship between MC and me seemed to be heating up. Up until now all of our nighttime play sessions were orchestrated in advance. He occasionally gave me filthy tasks to do when we chatted during the day, but the phone sessions were prearranged.
So I was surprised when I was eating dinner one evening at my parents’ house, and I received a text from him.
MC: My lust has been racing all day. I want to put you through a very demanding play session. Are you available later tonight?
Me: Yes.
Goosebumps rose on my skin at the thought of a session tonight. It was short notice, sure, but what else did I have to do?
“What’s that, dear?” my mother asked, glancing up from her Cornish hen.
I gulped. Not wanting to give Bunny any reason to be suspicious, I answered, “Just a text from a friend.”
“Which one?”
“Uh, you don’t know her. A girl I met at the library.”
“Oh, that sounds dreary.”
Good. I’d said the right thing to shut her up. My mother was too much of a social butterfly to appreciate the decadent solitude of the library. When I was a child and I practically forced her to take me, she stood near the book checkout tapping her toe the whole time I combed the shelves for books.
My phone dinged again.
“Really, Sophie. Turn that thing off. It’s impolite to play with your phone at the table.
“Just a minute, Mom.” Suddenly I felt twelve years old again, being reprimanded at the dinner table, but I had to text him back.
MC: Have your toys ready near your bed. We will give that cunt a relentless fucking.
Me: I can’t wait. Thank you, sir.
MC: Be sure to have your tape and plunger nearby. Bring forks as well so I can rip into that soft skin and make you dance.
Me: Yes, sir. What time?
MC: I’ll come out to play between 12:30 and 1:00. Stay wet.
Me: Yes, sir. I’ll be wet and waiting for you.
“Sophie!” It was my father’s turn to chime in. “Did you hear what your mother said?”
“Yes. Sorry, Daddy.” I turned off the ringer and slipped the phone into my pocket.
My parents would be absolutely horrified if they knew what I was really up to with the person on the other end of my phone. I tried to picture introducing MC to them, but of course I couldn’t because I had no idea what he looked like or what his personality was like when he wasn’t being a Dom. Was he the sort of man who could function admirably in polite society, or was he a wild man, untamed in any arena? He certainly came across as an intelligent man with a certain amount of couth, but I truly had no idea.
We ate the rest of our dinner in an awkward silence, and I was glad to get out of there when it was over. “I’ve got to get home to take Felix out,” I told my parents, and that was good enough for them.
The rest of the evening I paced around my apartment, anticipating our upcoming session. I made sure I had every toy he could possibly ask me to use readily available on the far side of my bed. We were finally going to use the plunger. I couldn’t wait to find out how.
At 12:40 he called and I picked up. “Hello.”
“Hello. Thank you for accommodating me tonight. You were a good little sub-slut to do that for me.” When I heard his voice, my heart raced.
“Thank you, sir. I enjoy our play time so much. I was happy to.”
He kicked off the warm-up phase by having me spank my ass with my bare hand. By the time he let me stop, my palm burned as hot as my bottom cheeks. He asked me to place an elastic band on each thigh, each wrist, my biceps and then he had me bind my breasts with tape, and introduced me to how I would use the plunger as a toy.
First, I used duct tape to attach my glass dildo to the end of the handle, basically extending it with a cock on the end. Then I wrapped the tape around one of my ankles, then made a figure eight around the stem of the plunger just above the red bulbous part, then another figure eight wrapping the tape around the other ankle, and finally running the tape around both ankles with the plunger between them. In the end, I could insert the dildo into my vagina, then when I moved my feet up and down, I could make it fuck me.
Hands-free self-fucking—MC was a genius, or so I believed.
“As your training is progressing, I can feel my lust building.”
“Thank you, sir. That makes me happy.” I felt like he’d just cracked open a glow light inside of me.
The session moved forward, him barking out commands, and me following them.
“Good! Now race around your body, quickly snapping each elastic one at a time. Wrist, bicep, thigh, thigh, bicep, wrist. Snap them fucking hard, fucking fast and thank me for each sting.”
I snapped them all, one at a time, saying, “Thank you, sir” after each one so that it became a mantra.
“Good girl. Make that body dance. Now move your feet and fuck that cunt. Penetrate those sweet lips for me with each stroke.”
“Yes, sir.” I did as he asked and the sensation was incredible. I loved having my hands available to do other things, and he must have known what I was thinking, because he told me to pick up a spatula.
“Smack those tits with it. Make them throb.”
Since my breasts were bound, their sensitivity had increased, and I felt each swat to them even more deeply than usual.
“Again, and I want you to count twenty swats, switching back and forth between breasts.”
I groaned, but swatted the tender tips of my breasts, one side then the other. Along the way he encouraged me, telling me, “You’ll come through the pain. It’s the mix that is so intoxicating. There is no ultimate pleasure without pain and control.”
Only a few more swats to go.
Thwack! “Eighteen.”
Thwack! “Nineteen.”
“Good girl. Be a greedy pain-whore. One more.”
Thwack! “Twenty.”
Once I stopped I could tell how much my nipples ached, but I wouldn’t be able to rest for long.
“Fuck that whore hole good and hard with that cock.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Do it!”
“Yes, sir.
“Now get those forks and dig them into those sore little buds. Dig them in and twist.”
I did and the world started to spin. All the things he’d had me do to myself came together and the pressure was too much. I wanted desperately to come.
“Sir, may I please come?”
“Good girl for asking, yes you may.”
I dug the forks in again, giving them that delicious twist that I knew would send me over the edge and then I was floating, my body pitching in tiny tremors of delight as my release washed over me and set me free.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
One of the first posts that I’d read online by MC was regarding some training he’d done with a sub that involved candle wax. It fascinated me, so from the beginning of my training I anticipated doing a session using the hot wax… and from MC’s latest instructions it sounded like the time had finally arrived. I couldn’t wait to experience it.
Sophie,
Tonight you will need to task hard. You need to enter your own little world while you’re bound and you fuck yourself. A world filled with cock-sucking, mouth-fucking, and cum-bathing your neck, breasts, belly, and mound. Feel that big blue vein part your lips while you rake it. Feel the leak of pre-cum coat your lips. Feel the strain in your throat while you anticipate a jet stream of cum washing the back of your throat. Take in the scent, the hardness, and the taste. Take it all in and I think it will make your toes curl.
Here’s what you will need to bring to the dance:
1.) plunger/dildo combo
2.) candle and lighter
3.) wooden chair brought up against the bed on right-hand side
4.) one skipping rope attached to left side of headboard
5.) other skipping rope
6.) wooden blocks
7.) feet to be taped to plunger for a good fucking
8.) two forks
9.) duct tape
When we meet tonight you will be stripped down and those feet will be secured with the plunger in place. You will be a compliant whore tonight.
Please me with your preparation sub.
MC
As I prepared for our play that evening, I tried to guess how badly it would hurt. Would I be able to endure it? I hoped so. Disappointing him was the last thing I wanted. MC requested that I have my feet and plunger secured with tape in advance, and he sounded very concerned about my preparation so I needed to follow those instructions perfectly. I’d done it before and while it grew easier the more times I did it, sometimes it was difficult to get the height of the plunger just right. I wrapped the tape around, tested it, and, satisfied it would work, lay back on the bed to wait.
I’d set the thermostat a few degrees lower than usual because soon I’d be sweating. My skin felt good against the cool, crisp sheets. It wouldn’t be long before the fresh-laundry scent I inhaled would be replaced by the smell of sex. I could hardly wait to hear his voice.
My cell phone rang at exactly the agreed-upon time. My Master was nothing if not precise. After I answered his call on my wireless headset with the mic, he opened the session by telling me to spank my ass with a wooden spoon. He used the tight, gruff voice I’d come to expect at the beginning of our sessions. I swatted my bottom cheeks one after the other.
“Louder. I want to hear that spoon slapping your flesh.”
“Yes, sir.” I applied more pressure. He probably could tell from my groans that the spoon hurt more than the plastic spatulas he usually had me use.
“Good,” he said after a dozen good smacks to each side. “Now lay your set of blocks out on your bed in a row, making a rectangle of them, and lie down next to them.
“Yes, sir.”
“Now I want you to insert your cock, the one attached to the plunger, and I want you to tape the bottom of the plunger to your ankles with your duct tape.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Now, lying on your back, I want you to get those forks and dig them into your nipples.”
“Yes, sir.” This was one of my favorite parts. The forks were my favorite toy, and the perfect symbol for that intoxicating intersection between pleasure and pain.
“Good girl. Now dig them in and twist.” The gravelly tenor of his voice heightened my senses and took me to a magical place that only included the two of us. His kingdom, where pleasure and pain melded together, and it was impossible to tease out which was which.
I forced the silver tines of the forks into my tender flesh and cried out. “Ahhh!” My cry embraced and repelled the sharp objects invading my body.
“That’s it. Dig them in hard. Twist!”
I did, and my complaints melted into mewls of lust.
“That’s a girl. Good job. Now roll over onto the blocks. Lie on them with your breasts and your stomach on top of them. Let the indentions of the blocks drive into that sensitive flesh of yours.”
Setting the forks aside, I flipped onto my belly, the pattern of the alphabet blocks marking my skin. It didn’t exactly hurt, but it was quite awkward and uncomfortable. The upside was that it was hot having him direct me into such a vulnerable position, and I liked him controlling me like that.
“Fuck yourself. Take that cock deep inside that greedy pussy of yours.”
“Yes, sir.” I wiggled my ankles up and down, driving the dildo into my cunt, the sharp edges of the blocks poking me with each stroke.
“Good girl. Now inch yourself up over the blocks so that only your stomach, and possibly your mound, is touching them. I want your breasts above them and free for you to play with them while you fuck yourself.”
Answering in the affirmative, I hoisted my left side, then my right, up on the bed, traversing over the blocks. My skin scraped the evil little divots and crevices of the blocks, and I muttered intelligible curses to whoever had made the retched things.
“What’s that?” he asked, amusement ringing in his voice.
“Nothing, sir. Thank you, sir.”
“All right. Now I want you to pinch those nipples, and keep fucking that hole. Do you hear me?” he snarled.
“Yes, sir.” A rush of blood charged to my vulva. Often the meaner he came across, the more aroused I became.
“Pull on your nipples, twist them, but pull them hard. Pull them away from your body, up to your chin as far as they can go. I want you to tug on them until you scream.”
I did as he said, pulling, twisting, and yanking them until I screeched in pain.
“Good. Again.”
Tugging them hard, I repeated the task until I hollered out again, and my body was covered with a light sheen in response to the exertion and pain. He commanded me to do it five times in total, and by the time I was finished I was panting.
“Tuck those fingers down underneath you, and I want you to diddle your clit until you come.”
“But the blocks…” The retched things jabbed against my forearm, distracting me from the task at hand.
“Do it!” he growled, and I knew he wanted me to fight through the discomfort and come for him.
“Yes, Sir,” I groused, but I meandered my fingers between my legs and rubbed hard circles across my little nub at the same time that I flipped my feet up hard, which thrust the cock deep into my vagina.
“I want to hear you when you come. I want you to tell me how greedy you are.”
“Yes, sir. I’m a greedy girl, and I need my cunt to come.” He’d drummed those words into my head so many times they came as readily as reciting the pledge of allegiance.
The tremors of my climax started in my thigh muscles. My legs began to tremble and my climax was building. “Oh yes, I’m going to come, sir! May I, please?”
“Do it.” His voice had taken on the hoarse quality that I associated with his orgasm, but surely he wasn’t about to come. He only did that at the end of our session. He’d usually take me through several orgasms during a session, but I’d only known him to come at the end, and I hoped we weren’t done for the night. I still wanted to try the candles.
A few more flicks of my fingers and I forgot, at least for the moment, everything except the spasms that wracked my body. “Oh, I’m coming. Thank you, sir.”
“God, I love to hear you come for me.”
“Yeesss,” I moaned in response.
“Keep playing with that little clit. Stroke it, make that cunt come again, longer.”
I did, and my orgasm seemed to go on and on. Wave after wave of bliss rippled over me, my body suspended in a dream world I never wanted to wake from. But eventually I came back down to earth and he said, “Move the blocks. Can you do that with the cock still embedded inside you?”
“Yes, they’re still in the cardboard box they came in, just without the top. I can slide them to the side.”
“Good. Do that and I want you to tape that candle to the back of the chair. Is the chair sitting next to your bed?”
“Yes. Just a minute.” As spent as I’d been a moment earlier, the possibility of finally exploring the wax gave me a fresh burst of energy. He explained how to position my body—lying on my back, cock still buried in my cunt. He wanted me to bind myself with the jump ropes that were tied to the posts on either side of my headboard.
He requested I light one of the candles then wrap the jump ropes around each wrist so that I was bound, his hapless prisoner. Symbolically, if not in actuality.
“I want you to fuck that cunt of yours, and don’t stop until I tell you. When those drops of wax start falling, you have permission to squirm, but keep those ropes wrapped around your wrists.”
The first drop of molten wax dripped on my abdomen just below my breast. “Oh!” Crap, that sucker hurt! I’d expected it to be hot, but not that hot.
Another drop fell near the first. “Ouch!” I shrieked.
“Where did it land?” he asked, and I recognized his desire to get a visual of the entire scene.
“My stomach.”
“Move around. Let it hit you in different places. Play with it.”
“Okay.” Afraid to let it hit my breast, I wriggled up slightly so the next drop hit my mound. It hurt. It hurt like a motherfucker. I let some fall on my arm. That was a slight improvement. After some gymnastic moves, I realized the pain was less intense when it fell on places where my skin was usually exposed to the world—like my arms and legs. And to my surprise it began to actually feel pretty good, especially when it landed on my breasts and nipples. But when I moved and it dripped on my ribs, it really seared.
For the rest of the session, MC told me what to do, instructing me where to let the wax dribble. It was intoxicating, the control he had over me. Without him, I wouldn’t have done any of this. I wouldn’t be sitting in my bedroom dripping scalding candle wax on myself. I loved him making me do these things, and feeling helpless. It was why I loved bondage. I’d found someone I trusted enough to allow him to control me and my sexuality. It was an amazing thing.
Of course, in the back of my mind, I knew this arrangement was rather odd. I didn’t really know MC. What did I really know about him? And there were many things I might not be able to trust him about. But so far, under these limited circumstances, he’d shown himself to be worthy of my trust from a D/s perspective. For me that was rare, and I trusted him more than I ever trusted Spencer.
The wax continued to drip onto my skin, each drop heightening my arousal.
“Now I want you to imagine you’re taking my cock in your mouth.”
“Mmm.”
“Fuck that cunt with that cock. And open your mouth for another one. You can’t get enough cock, can you?”
“No, sir.” My arms were stretched above me, and I closed my eyes, thinking what it would be like to be filled in two holes, my mouth and my cunt, being fucked while hot wax ignited my senses. That fantasy pushed me over the edge.
“Come for me. I want you to come for me hard.”
I complied, my skin stinging from the molten torture, and I gasped as the pleasure-spiked pain wracked my body with the exquisite shivers as I climaxed. My drenched channel tightened around the toy inside me, and as the spasms ebbed, I drifted into an adrenaline-laced rapture.
When I heard the catch in his voice that told me that, he too, on the other end of our connection had found release, unadulterated happiness permeated my consciousness. I pictured his cock erupting, ejecting white liquid ropes of cum, and wished I could be with him to lap it up.
Afterward, we fell into our usual pattern of rehashing the evening’s events—the cyber equivalent of smoking a cigarette post-coitus. I loved how he talked to me during those times. At the beginning of our sessions he was mean and harsh. But by the end, after I jumped through all his hoops like a good circus pup, he was usually quite engaging. Sometimes even nice.
I blew out the candle with one big whiff, uncurled the ropes from my wrists, and ripped the tape off my ankles. It took a few moments to remove all the tape and untangle myself from all the accoutrements my online Dom had me use during tonight’s extended session. When I was done, I reached for a super-soft wine-colored throw and burrowed underneath it, tucking my knees to my chest and hugging myself while my heart rate slowly returned to normal.
“How am I going to get all this wax off my skin?” I asked him.
“Ah, it is a rather messy endeavor. Sorry about that. Probably one of the reasons we won’t be doing it for every session. But it should peel right off.”
“All right.” I had gobs of wax still attached to my body but I’d clean it up later, after our debriefing. In some ways, our talks at the end were the best part.
“So what did you think?”
“Other than it being messy, I really liked it. It was a nice long session, and I like that you pushed me past where I would have normally gone.”
“I love the way you fucking danced for me. My cock was raging hard, listening to your anguish.”
I sat up. He wasn’t usually this forthcoming about his own desire. “Really?”
“Yes, raging hard, fucking chiseled. So hard my thick vein was popping out and throbbing in my grip. Hot wax can be agonizing at times, but it can also be extremely pleasurable if you’re getting fucked hard at the same time. I’d love to take you from behind, drip that wax on your back, your ass, and feel you force that cunt against me.”
“That sounds heavenly. I feel like I’m doing better about coming when you tell me to.”
“Is it easier for you to let go?”
“Yes. I think part of that is how you pushed me. It felt like we went further than before, and since I can tell that you push me just the right amount, and not too far, I trust you more, which makes it easier to relax and let you guide me.”
“Good. You need that guidance and instruction, and of course, the right tasks and challenges designed specifically to make you come hard and long, multiple times.”
“Thank you, sir. Remember how you said that after a while you would begin to haunt me? I’m afraid that’s starting to happen.” I was almost bashful admitting this, but he’d told me honesty was essential to my training, so I wanted him to know the effect he had on me.
“That is a positive. Training like this tends to sneak up on you during the day. A smell, a touch, a mark, or a bruise—they can all serve as reminders of me and your training. Some subs coat their scrapes with their juices and lick them off like little kittens.”
The mental image this conjured up for me was strange yet oddly arousing.
“I am happy with how you are progressing in your training. Communication, trust, and honesty are the keys and those keep building. Stick with it and I will take you places you’ve never even dreamed of going. Stay wet for me.”
