After a week away with work i get home to find you right in the middle of the living room, illuminated by soft lamplight. You're wearing nothing but a sleek black leather harness—open cups framing your breasts so they jut forward, nipples already stiff.
A quick glance around tells me you've been planning this for days. Toys laid out neatly. The camera on its tripod angled toward the armchair. One of our previous scenes playing silently on the big screen, looping the moment I made you scream. And between your thighs, visible even from across the room, an unmistakable glistening of arousal. You've edged yourself every single night I was gone, just as I ordered, never once permitted to cum. The desperation is written all over your body.
I close the door behind me. “Come here,” I say quietly. “Undress me. Top to bottom.”
You move instantly, fingers trembling only slightly as you loosen my tie, slide it free, then work the buttons of my shirt one by one. When you reach my belt you drop gracefully to your knees, unbuckle the leather, ease the zipper down, and tug my trousers and boxers off together. My cock already half-hard from the sight of you springs free inches from your lips.
You lean in, hungry, but I step back and settle into the armchair.
You know better than to chase. Instead you sink into Nadu, knees wide, back straight, palms resting on your thighs, eyes lowered in perfect submission, while I simply drink you in.
After a long, appreciative silence I murmur, “Crawl to me.”
You obey, moving slowly, deliberately, until you're between my spread thighs. I look down into those pleading eyes and give the smallest nod. Permission granted.
You take me into your mouth, soft at first, warm and reverent. While you work the tip with slow, sucking kisses, I reach for the whiskey you poured earlier and left waiting on the side table. Exactly how a good girl prepares for her Master. The first sip burns pleasantly down my throat; almost immediately I feel myself thicken and lengthen against your tongue.
You sense it too. The teasing licks turn greedy. You plunge down, taking me to the root, holding me there while your throat flutters around the head. Eyes locked on mine the whole time. Then you start bobbing long, wet, deliberate strokes that make obscene little sounds fill the room.
That's when I catch it in the mirror you so thoughtfully positioned opposite the chair: the glint of a thick steel plug nestled between your cheeks.
I let my head tip back, close my eyes, and simply feel your mouth, the whiskey's slow heat, the week's worth of anticipation uncoiling in my gut. You shift attention lower now, tongue bathing my balls, sucking one gently into your mouth while your hand twists slickly up and down my shaft, drool running down your wrist.
I already know you're aching. Desperate. But where's the fun in giving you relief so soon? “What do you want?” I ask, voice low.
You pull off just long enough to answer, voice hoarse and pleading. “For you to fuck my cunt… and let me cum. Please.”
I smile. “Good girl. But not yet. I want to feel that talented mouth a little longer.”
You dive back down eagerly, redoubling your efforts. After several more minutes of heaven, I feel the telltale swell, the tightening in my balls. You feel it too and suddenly you're determined to make me finish right here, in your throat, rather than inside the pussy you've been dying to have filled.
You pause only long enough to grab my phone, hit record, and press it into my hand. Yours is already rolling from the tripod by the mirror.
“Film your little cumdumpster taking your load,” you whisper, then swallow me again.
How could I refuse? The camera frames you perfectly now mascara starting to smudge, lips swollen, cheeks hollowed as you alternate between worshipping the head and burying me to the hilt. Every few strokes you pull off just long enough to beg, “Fill my mouth with your cum.”
I shake my head. “No. I want it all over that pretty face.”
Disappointment flickers for half a second then morphs into pure, filthy eagerness. You love being marked. You redouble your efforts, sucking harder, faster, tongue swirling, until I can't hold back.
I groan low and deep as the first thick spurt hits your cheek, then your nose, your open mouth, your chin. Rope after rope paints your face until you're glistening, wrecked, a perfect bukkake scene come to life.
When the last pulse fades you breathe out a shaky, “Thank you for your cum, Sir,” voice thick with need. You start to wipe it off. I catch your wrist.
“No. Leave it.”
I guide you to the large pouf in front of the mirror and camera. “All fours. Face the reflection.”
You obey instantly, ass presented, cum still dripping from your chin onto the leather below. I wipe just enough from around your eyes so you can see yourself clearly then move behind you with my still hard cock.
You think this is it. Finally. Your cunt is about to be filled; your week-long denial about to end.
But instead, I grip the base of the plug.
Out it comes with a soft, wet sound. I slick more lube over my cock, then drizzle a generous line down the cleft of your ass. The head presses against your tight ring.
Your eyes widen in the mirror; nervousness, excitement, a flash of pain-pleasure as I breach you. I wrap your hair in my fist, tug your head back so you're forced to watch your own reflection: face streaked with my cum, mouth parted, body trembling.
“Tell the camera where my cock is,” I order, voice rough.
With every slow, deepening inch you manage to gasp out, “Your cock… is in my… slutty… arsehole…”
I sink fully inside you, hold there, letting you feel every thick pulse while your denied clit throbs uselessly and fresh tears of overwhelmed sensation gather in your lashes.
We're only getting started…
Let me know if you want a part 2!! |
