It started out like most Saturday mornings...

It started out like most Saturday mornings… quiet and coffee… checking emails and blogs.  Master busy with something on his computer.  We had had a busy evening the night before, vanilla friends and family, a house full the squeals and laughter of little children… a house full of life and love.  One of those nights you were happy they were there and profoundly appreciative of the peace and stillness that marked their departure.

So I sat the next morning, sipping my coffee… reading old stories I had written years ago… but there was a part of me, a silent waiting, intensely listening part of me… each time he would move, stand up, sit down, sigh or mumble to himself, I would look up, listen.  It was Saturday morning after all.  It had been a week and for once, I was looking forward to the expected call to the shower.

When he shifted in his chair and called to me, “Pretty girl, come here, look at this,” I was up and moving toward him without thought.  He already had some porn up.  Master is learning what gets the juices flowing… bondage… some sense that the girl is coerced… rough sex with all avenues being taken.  After a few clips, I was tingling… warm and wet and looking at him with a decidedly carnal glint in my eye.

As we moved to the next step of the dance, I could not help but wryly observe that by the time we finished brushing our teeth and got into the shower, that it was inevitable that most of this heat and hunger would have dissipated.  Perhaps he heard that, saw past the humor and heard the fear, the sadness the accompanied the fading of the lust, the warmth… the fear if it slipped through my fingers, I might not get it back.  Because he did not let it fade or slip from my grasp… He kept the fire burning… repeatedly touching me, caressing me, spanking, pinching, scratching… pulling, twisting me, bending me back, pressing me, trapping me as he fed that fire within me.

I was quiet, holding onto the images left in my memory, images of women bound and gagged, women screaming in pain and passion as they were taken.  Letting those images blend and mix with the sensations he was forcing upon my body.

The drain in the shower has been slow, (one more thing on the long list of items needing fixing) and Master looked down at the rapidly growing pool and muttered something about doing something about it… and I teased, “You mean you aren’t going to drown me in there?”

He snorted and said “no” in no uncertain terms.

And I came back, “One more sexy fantasy shot all to hell.”

And you know… it is kind of sexy… the image of being forced to kneel in the murky water, of being forced forward, strong hands in my hair, pushing my face down in the dirty water and having to hold my breath as he fucks me from behind, depending upon his mercy and whim to lift my face up so that I may steal a breath of air.  Unrealistic?  Perhaps, especially with a clean freak Master… but sexy as hell.

The water was up over our ankles when I was bent over at the waist staring down at the water and I had a brief impression of wading in water, a sense of being outdoors, being fucked while standing in a stream or a pond.  But the failure of the drain was perhaps my salvation.  With the danger of flooding, we did not linger under the falling water until the water heater was empty.  At his sharp short command we were soon making our way down to his room.

Pushing me back onto the bed he interlaced his fingers with mine and stretched my arms taut up over my head and straddled my upper body and slowly, deliberately fucked my mouth.  There was a delicious mix of helplessness and restriction of movement.  I remember how my face was smeared with spit and precum.  He did not let go of my hands as he moved down and began fucking my cunt with the same slow deliberate thrusts, my legs lifting up and wrapping around him, pulling at him, urging him deeper.  I was close, amazingly close… I could feel it there just out of reach.

When he moved up to fuck my face some more, he kept my legs hooked up over his knees, forcing my knees up around my ears.  With my hands still pinned above my head, I was restricted even more, constricted, crushed and contorted.   I remember how rich his cock tasted, coated with the thick cream from my pussy, how the smell and flavor filled my mouth and nose and heart.  He kept pushing me further, pressing deeper, probing for the depths of my throat, pressing deeper and deeper until he was buried up to the root, reveling in the sensation and sound of my reflexive gags and struggle for air.

He did not let go of my hands until he moved down to fuck my cunt some more, choosing to lean his weight upon the backs of my legs, keeping my knees still pinned up around my ears.  The new angle tips his cock at a sharp angle up, the underside dragging heavily along the crack of my ass… an intense sensation that ratchets up my soaring excitement but once again, keeps that orgasm just out of reach.  But my hands are finally free and he growls at me to touch myself… the last piece of the equation.   

Everything was perfect… until as he came.  He tensed and his eyes bulged out and he began to utter a mix of grunts and curses… something had started to cramp up at exactly the wrong or perhaps right moment.  I remember freezing under him and staring up… the random thought that Master is definitely not a masochist bubbling up from the cage of the crazy lady in the back of my head.  A thought I wisely did not put into words.  I did not even give into the impulse to giggle.  I watched him ride it out, ricocheting between the pulses of his climax and the lances of pain coming from his leg. 

And when he pulled out, I was still hovering, still touching myself…  and then he did something different… something unexpected… pulling my awareness away from my own imminent pleasure.  He pulls out and immediately presses against my asshole, pushing in… it catches me by surprise.  He has not fucked my ass in months.  The first sensation is pain… pure burning, stabbing pain and I cannot help but cry out and pant.  He stops, buried deep within me, waiting for me to adjust but it does not ease, any movement is a new wave of pain. 

“Get your vibrator.”  I reach but it is just beyond my grasp and he gives me an impatient shove with is cock, trying to push me closer and I shriek.  Finally he stretches and manages to hook the cord and hands it to me. 

And mysteriously, despite the agony in my ass… or perhaps because of it… the moment I touch myself with the head of that Hitachi I am coming, instantly, wildly, a soaring orgasm from heaven.  All pain is just as instantly gone and he is moving, thrusting and to my confusion he is coming again or still… his gasps and growls of passion blending with mine.  My orgasm feels endless, each shuddering lunge into my ass another wave of ecstasy, intensified by the vibrations of my toy.  Long after he is still, I press the vibrator to myself and savor each and every last quivering spasm of pleasure.  I know he is watching me… he loves to watch me come. 

Afterward, snuggling up to him I ask, “Did you come twice?”  He shrugs and says, “Sort of.”  So eloquent… and apparently not only did he come twice… he came a LOT in both places.  Bastard… this is all wrong… I thought us girls are supposed to be the multiple orgasm machines…