Saturday, May 1, 2010

Three weeks

I got to thinking… it has been nearly three weeks… three weeks since I have really made love with Master.

Oh sure… he has been getting his… his “shower sex”…He loves shower sex. It is easy, fast, hygienic… selfish. It starts with a nonverbal shove, pushing me to my knees, a casual gesture toward his cock. He might grunt “suck it” but anymore, I know what he wants and I quickly take him in my mouth. He holds my wet hair in his fists and controls the pace. I think he likes the sensation and sounds of my struggle when he slides deep into my throat. He paces it, savoring the experience, taking his time, growling with pleasure and when he finally cannot contain it any longer or the hot water starts to fade, he will roughly grab me, lift me, turn me around and sharply shove my head down as he slams it deep into my cunt.

There rarely is any foreplay and I am usually dry. But he likes that, likes the added friction. He calls it traction and, because he already is so close, he comes quickly. He pulls out, turns, washes off the sticky and goes on about his day. It’s all good for him.

There is no expectation that I orgasm or even that I become significantly aroused. It does turn me on, the very dynamic, the selfishness, the knowledge that he can do it like that, can take without any consideration for me is exciting. And I like to suck cock. I love the sensation, the taste, the smell, even the sensation of gagging is erotic for me. And the sensation of him in me, fucking me, the tissues stretching and burning with his come… it is very good. But it is not enough, not long enough, and the position of standing bent over with shower water running up my nose, I just can’t quite come that way and he knows that. It all just leaves me wanting more.

I am not under any masturbation prohibition. It is perfectly okay with him if I masturbate a dozen times a day. Though he does love to sneak up on me and scare the shit out of me at that moment when the eyes drift shut and the imagination is a thousand miles away. He loves to poke me then and laughs maniacally as I shriek and sob in shocked, embarrassed terror. But that is another story, the thing is masturbation does not meet the need inside me. It just makes me want him more, want the orgasm from him more. It is like food without calories, it does not feed me. The more I cram into my empty belly, the more my body starves. I think he is very aware of this and finds my suffering amusing as well.

Now Master can be a wonderful lover and frequently is but lately… lately the world has conspired to sabotage any slow paced, uninterrupted, love making. And I feel the empty place inside me growing. I am beginning to count the days and I find I am not masturbating as much. It just makes me feel sad and hopeless to even try to meet this need on my own. It just makes things worse.

Last night was the worst. He came home and when I greeted him, hugging him, asking him about his day, asking him what time he would like his dinner served, he grabbed me and took me downstairs and pushed me down upon the bed. But rather than subjecting my body to pain, he lay down with me kissing me… kissing and kissing and kissing me, his warm strong hands roaming, caressing, torturing me with pleasure. And as I sighed and arched and moaned he laughed, his eyes dark with passion and power. He whispered to me that there was not going to be relief, that he was just teasing me and I wrapped my hands in my hair and pulled, that long low kind of hard pull that sends pain all the way down my spine.

He ordered me to stop hurting myself, to stop pulling at my own hair. He rolled me over and began to beat me with that new strap, and the cane but eventually he yanked my pants down, baring my ass and just spanked me with his bare hands. O all the things in his arsenal, nothing can compare to his bare hands. He spanked me until I was breathless and then rolling me over onto my back to look down into my face, he smiled and finally told me to go ahead and cook his dinner.

And now this morning… this morning I am so acutely aware of how much I need him to fuck me, to hold me down, to pound me, to be able to come at his command, to be held in his arms as the waves of pleasure and surrender shake me to my soul and I do not know when we will find the time to be together. It is going to be a busy weekend and finding even an hour of time for ourselves, to get horizontal, is going to be a challenge.

(I wrote this in my journal yesterday. I am quite delighted to say that today we did find that hour. And we did get horizontal… well as horizontal as you can call having your knees tucked up around your ears. I am still tingling and all is well with the world.)

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