Submission

I stood up and stripped off my clothes. He sat up straighter, unfastened his belt and began to unzip his trousers. We were both a  little drunk, but there was no harm in that since this was about sex and submission.

Master’s cock was hard, not really surprising since his slave was now kneeling naked before him. As I took the full shaft in my mouth, not even gagging. I took a moment to wonder if alcohol helps suppress the gag reflex. His cock tasted amazing as I coated it with my gin infused saliva.

He took my hair in his hands and kept my head still making me savour the taste and feel. With such a full mouth I could do little more. His hand gripped my breasts, caressing  the nipples as they hardened to his touch.

Following his request, I pulled my mouth free and climbed up onto his lap. I sat down on the hard cock and it slid easily inside. No tightness, no pain; if only it were always this easy. But, never mind. As I rode him, his hands moved over my body which was sensitised to every touch.

As is his way in these situations, he asked me to tell him who I am- Master’s Bitch, his slut his slave  – the response. And he, my Lord and Master.

It is in situations like this that my submission comes to the fore. There is no longer space to think and to wonder. Just a place to be His slave, His slut, His property.

My reward? The granting of orgasms; lots and lots of orgasms. Each one rolling in, starting deep inside my cunt, a wave of emotions throbbing through my body bringing his gift. Submission.

Because the link between the power he has over me, the orgasms he permits and my submission are absolute. In those moments there is nothing else in my world other than Lord and slave.

Blogging A-Z Challenge: C

C is for Control

when we are out together our M/s dynamic is only likely to be noticed by those who know what to look for. Subtle signs of my submission exist in the way I check his preferences. He often chooses and orders food, he always picks the wine. He phrases his questions in such a way that for me they are statements I am compelled to follow. But I doubt others notice.

Control during sex for us is at another level. He is always in charge, even if I take the initiative, or am on top. This is the time and place when I am stripped to my very core, whether naked or clothed. He is my Master, my Lord. I am his slut, slave, bitch. Something comes over us during foreplay and sex that I can’t quite put my finger on. It is as if my anxieties slip away, I lose the need to be someone I am not and can just focus on him. To be the real me, his slave.

Orgasm Control

From the very beginning of our relationship he took control of my ability to choose when, where and how I experienced an orgasm. He has never prohibited me from having orgasms when I am along, but I do have to thank him. Even when he is absent. This is a rule that I have never broken.

When we are together I am not allowed to cum until he tells me I can. Last weekend it became apparent that even during immense amounts of stimulation I am able to control my orgasms until he allows me to cum. For Master’s birthday we went to stay in a house that has been converted into a dungeon. I have always wanted to try mechanical sex machines, and last Friday I got the chance. Vibrating, whirling and moving dildos provided an amazing amount of stimulation to my body. But it wasn’t until afterwards that  he remarked that I didn’t orgasm until he granted permission.

This has me thinking about control in a different way. He does control me, but surely I must have developed control over my own body so that he can control it?

Or is it just conditioning?