The s word
i hated the s word and he knew it
He tied me and sat down next to me, smiling, watching, occasionally touching me.
a finger up my thigh
a little twist of a nipple
a nail down my back
a quick slap on my ass
i felt the heat building inside me
he felt the dampness between my legs
slapped my ass
stroked his fingers along my swollen lips
teased my clit oh so very briefly
“your body will tell me what you are,” he said, as i felt my hips start to gyrate despite myself.
“Ah yes,” he said, sampling the heat inside. i bit my lip, trying to compose myself but knowing this was a lost cause. “you know what you are little one, just let your body give you away.”
His fingers covered in my own heat stroked outside and around me, teasing until i found my hips undulating, thrusting back towards him, my body begging for release, pushing and thrusting, trying to get his fingers to touch me just so. Reduced to just where he wanted me, to be what he knew me to be, for him.
i bit my lip, knowing better than to speak, moaning and whimpering as he shoved his fingers inside me.
“Spread your legs for me and show me,” he said as he opened his trousers. i hurried, thrusting my hips higher still, opening and offering myself up. “Show me what you are,” he growled as he thrust deep inside me with a single motion. A desperate whimper escaped my lips.
“Show me,” he said as i buried my head in the cushion and pushed back against him. “That’s it,” he said, “that’s my good girl.”
Two short words…
In some instances, they are frowned upon.
Yet in others, they are revered and wished for.
History has not been kind to these words… and for good reason. Their meanings held a dark connotation during a very ugly space in time, when some thought that the colour of a person’s skin meant that they were to be held in less regard than others. That they were only fit to labour or serve without pay or humanity or kindness. Masters were superior, and slaves were only labour and a commodity that could easily be broken, sold, or destroyed, and replaced.
But today… in another world, or mind-space… these words hold a very vast and different meaning.
A Master is a teacher, a protector, a mentor, a lover, a friend. He is to be obeyed, revered, cherished, and loved. His words are to be honoured as are His wishes. He is the be all and end all to the one that He chooses to serve Him as His slave. A slave in this sense is not bought, but serves willingly and without reservation or question. A slave submits to her Master completely… giving all that she has to give… mind, body, and soul… in the service to her Master. And she does so with a willing and open heart. And in doing so, the slave is cherished, protected, and valued. she is nurtured and respected, and her Master should be honoured by the gift of her service. she takes pride in pleasing her Master fully and to the best of her ability and is thrilled when she makes her Master proud.
Master and slave…
They may be two short words.
They may have a dark history.
But for some, they simply mean one thing…
On Girls Who Present Properly
I have written before on the importance of ritual and protocol in D/s relationships. With my thanks to booksandbondage for her beautiful photo commemoration, let me say…
There is nothing quite so pleasing to a Dominant than to enter a room and see his girl waiting for him in his favorite pose. This goes beyond the immediate visual of a woman presenting her most nether regions wantonly to the man she respects and craves. Presenting perfectly requires foresight, proactive confidence, attention to detail, and the ability to remain motionless while being enjoyed - both visually and with tactile sensation.
A girl so motivated makes sure to know her rendezvous time and if her Sir has any additional requests. She then takes the time to shower, shave, moisturize, and primp to present herself in the ways her Sir enjoys (makeup, hair, nails, etc.). Lastly, she prepares the room with the perfect amount of light, the bed arranged properly, and her body carefully positioned so her Sir can see her nether regions exposed and glistening with her desire upon his entry.
When I enter the room and see my girl in perfect form - exactly the way I crave her - I do not rush. I stand and savor the visual she has worked so hard to achieve. I notice how her hair is draped, how pretty her nails are - all of it. And I watch to see if she can hold her position or undulate ever so gently - her pussy wetting and betraying her cravings.
The first touch is my way of greeting her and acknowledging the swell of hunger and pride I have with such a beauty presented before me. It may be a soft caress on her ass with my fingertips, a kiss on her ass or back, or a gathering of her hair and a kiss on her neck. It may also be a tracing of her ass and pussy lips with a crop or a switch, causing her to clutch and wet anew.
Once my initial contact has made her undulate and moisten, I always move my lips up to her ear and whisper my approval….
“mmmmm……good girl. Gooooooood girl. You are so beautiful….”
And then - the dance commences….on the fringe of darkness.
This post was inspired by booksandbondage, who submitted this photo. And yes - this girl has worked “Fringe of Darkness” into her submission. Note the bottom book at her bedside. Well-played, girl! Bonus points!
Caption © Fringe of Darkness, 2012
Image - http://booksandbondage.tumblr.com/