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Saturday, October 3, 2015

BDSM Fiction 2: Dinner and Dessert

Tonight, I gave my slave specific instructions on how to prepare dinner.

She began by cooking the meal in her robe, a short one that showed off her well-toned legs.  She's a great cook, which is a huge bonus when your slave/wife is into being the 1950s housewife.  I waited for dinner on the chaise, relaxing after a day's work, being treated as the breadwinner should.

She finished dinner, brought the plate over to one side of the table, shed her robe, crawled onto the other side of the table naked, laid on her back, set the plate on her sexy, flat abdomen, and said, "Master, dinner is served."

I walked over to the table, sat down, picked up the knife and fork, and began to eat.  Each time I took a bite, I took my time chewing, and used the rounded end of the fork to rub her clit.  She had to stay still so she wouldn't upset the plate.  Her breathing gave away her struggle to do so.

I finished the meat--a beautiful cut of steak--and angled the knife against her skin, scraping it along the length of her body from abdomen to neck and back down.  A bit of fear entered into her breathing, but an excited fear...a fear the turned her on.  I would never cut her with a dirty knife, but there is always the chance of slipping, especially when the knife is sharp.

I finished the side dish, and I took a little longer rubbing her clit with the fork.  She finally asked permission to orgasm.  "No," I replied, and moved the end of the fork away.

She gave a near-breathless sigh, with a hint of waiver in it.  She wanted that permission so badly.

"Now for dessert."

I walked over and got dessert myself.  I didn't want her to move.  As cold is a hard limit for her, I draped a cloth napkin over her skin to keep the cold from getting to her, and I brought a plate with a slice of cheesecake on it out of the refrigerator.  I ate it slowly, rubbing her clit in between bites again, but edging her each time.  I made her beg for permission, and each time, I denied her.  To her credit, she was able to keep her upper body still, though she moved her legs with the agony of ecstasy.

"Now, for your dessert."

I went and got the other slice of cheesecake, made her get onto her hands and knees in front of me, and eat the cheesecake without hands, without utensils.  Ah, what a sight she was, with her narrow waist and curvy hips, her ass molded and shaped by years of ballet and athletic activity, her long violet hair draped over the side of her face opposite of me...she was beautiful in her submission, and the degradation of eating like a common animal made the sight even more appealing.  She is my favorite pet.

She finished.  I don't know how she does it, but she can eat that way without making a mess of her face.  I gave her a kiss, then said, "Now, for my second dessert."

I made her lay on her back again, but this time, her legs were draped over my shoulders.  I went down on her, sucking her clit into my mouth, nibbling it, biting down on it (she loves it rough), flicking it with my tongue.  It didn't take her long.  "Please, Master, may I cum?  Please?  Oh, please, Master..."

I let her beg for a bit, then I growled, "Cum for me."  She arched her back, her breath stolen from her, the orgasm seizing her body and making her write against her will, her muscles tightening involuntarily.  When she finally could breathe again, she whispered, "Thank you, Master."

I lifted her from the table, draped her over my shoulder, and carried her to the bedroom.  I grabbed two fistfuls of her hair and fucked her savagely.  "Stop!  Please stop!  Oh, it hurts..."

"I didn't hear a safe word, slut.  You fucking love it, don't you?  Don't you, little whore?"  I slapped her head, then grabbed her hair again.

"Yes," she admitted, almost under her breath.

I fucked her harder.  She continued to beg me to stop...and then she begged me to let her cum again.  "Please may I cum?  Please?  Please, Master..."

"Cum for me, little whore."

She came again.  I felt her wetness gush over my cock, felt her squeeze it.  Her breath was lost again, and I delighted in the sight of her arching her back again, her mouth parted as though crying out, though no sound came out.  She was able to moan after several seconds, and she expressed her gratitude once more.

I continued to fuck her hard, grabbing her hips and pulling her into me as I thrust.  It's just how she likes it, and with my hands off her hair, the pain no longer distracted her from the sensations below.  I slapped her repeatedly.  She loves it when it's violent.  I kept hold of her right hip as I slapped her with my right hand.  Sweat began to pour down my face, and I wiped it onto my hand, then wiped my hand on her face.

"What are you?"

"Your whore."

"What else are you?"

"Your plaything."

"That's right: you're my favorite toy.  I love using your little body, whore.  Do you like being used?"


I summoned more strength for my thrusts and fucked her rapidly, hard, fast,,,

"I'm going to cum...oh fuck..." My language was gone, reduced to primal grunts and growls, and I came inside of her, flooding her, draining myself into her.

I collapsed next to her.  She turned onto her side, and I pulled her into me, and we melted into each other for awhile.