eenslaved

Striking image, though the location also disturbs me a bit at the same time. 

She carried the belt from where it hung in the closet and held it in her two hands to bring it to him, letting the supple leather slide through her fingers.

The toy chest which normally rested against the wall was pulled to a prominent position in the center of the room. 

“Present yourself,” he said.

She knelt on the polished wood. He had made the chest itself in his workshop, but she had been the one to sand it while he spanked her from behind. Kneeling on top of it, she lowered herself further by resting on her forearms. Her head bowed and her breasts swung down. His finger tapping on the inside of her thighs had her hurriedly spreading her legs apart. 

He spoke again, not to her, but to their guests to whom he was giving this demonstration, ”Look how she trembles with anticipation. Look how wet she already is. It seems a waste not to use her mouth in this position. Charles why don’t you take your pleasure of her?”

(Source: morethanithurtsme, via fetish4)

Happy 1 year anniversary of my blog! When I started this tumblr, I never imagined I would keep it up for a year. Thank you for sharing in this journal of my desires. 

After classes at the university, I let myself into his apartment with my key. I would retrieve my collar where it was hanging on a hook in the foyer, and I would go find him. Sometimes he would be in the den, sometimes his study room, or the kitchen or even the balcony. Wherever he was, he would be waiting for me with an implement he would use on me. I never knew what it would be. 

I went to him, and he would collar me with little touches on my neck, the exposed skin revealed by my blouses or sweaters, the shell of my ear. Little strokes that had me all but melting….or feeling like a high tension wire was strung through me.

He buckles a bit gag around my head. It is marked with my teeth. There will be more marks, he uses this gag for when he wants to make me scream, and to hear me do it.

He puts a lead on me and holds two fingers down by his left leg. I lower myself to my hands and knees. He takes me for a walk around the apartment and all the rooms. One loop, two loops. My knees hurt, but my nipples are stabbing points into my shirt and I am so wet.

She catches her breath. Eyes fluttering shut. Pulse firing away.

The teasing, fondling caress at her breast becomes a firm squeeze. A command. He urges, “Keep reading.”

She opens her eyes again. Draws in a heavy breath. She has lost her place in the book but she finds it again and begins again where she left off.

“…I…At the grocery store, the vibrator turned on twice. The second time I was standing in line. I don’t think anyone noticed but I could hardly speak. The cashier, he was my age, and I wanted him to fuck me…”

He continues to palm her breast, enjoying the possession of what he owns, rubbing the heel of his hand against her nipple. His fingers drifts to her nipple and begins to pluck. Pinch. Play. And when she stops speaking….Punish.

Her breath is a sob in her throat when she starts talking reading again. 

“I knew I was wet and I didn’t care. I was so wet if the vibrator wasn’t locked inside me, it would have fallen out, I know it. It distracted me so much I had trouble paying…with the card and all…”

Her hand drifts down to her inner thighs. He permits it. He rolls her nipple between his fingers, a wordless command to continue.

“The cashier was impatient, and he corrected me. I was doing it wrong. And his little rebuke…it made me come. Right there in the store.”

“Without permission,” he pronounces quietly.

“Yes, sir.” The book is trembling in her fingers.

“Very well. Put aside your punishment journal, darling, and we’ll take care of that punishment right now.”

After they entered the house and their coats had been taken, he held three fingers to his thigh. She sank immediately to her hands and knees, kneeling first and then lowering herself even further by resting her forward weight on her forearms. He hooked the end of the rope that held her body to the door handle of the closet. Her job, he informed her, was to open the door for people who wished to retrieve their coats. She would not be permitted to speak or stand. Simply serve.

(Source: theguccislut, via bendhur)

The shadow play, the absolute openness of her body, the penetrating fingers, these are just a few of the things I love about this. Very evocative.

(Source: dr-o-wn, via soulflux)

Waking up early to see him off in the morning…choosing clothes that I know will please him, or sometimes, standing nude before him while he chooses what I should wear for the day. 

Held unnmovable against him, him murmuring in her ear, “Don’t stop fingering yourself.”

It is a long chain, but there’s no denying that it keeps her tethered to the bed. A little silver medallion hangs from the piercing there too, with just one word engraved in the metal: Owned.

The only thing she needs to wear.

A hood like this can make me feel like I am only a body, only flesh to be manipulated or spanked, holes to be used, sensitive parts to be clamped or bound. A hood like this can make me feel constricted, contained.

A hood like this can free me with its anonymity, make these dark desires more powerful, let them come out to play.

Missy’s professor had her accompany him to the college one day to present his paper. As she sat in the audience, listening to him calmly field questions, she squeezed her legs together, remembering how just the night before he had put a leather blindfold over her eyes and cuffed her wrists to the broad leather collar locked around her neck. Then he growled at her to ride his leg until she was close to coming.

Missy had straddled his thigh and undulated her body in a sinuous dance for him. Soon she was writhing there, gasps flying from her open mouth. He told her, “My, you’re leaving quite the wet spot here” and “I want to see these tits bouncing in my face, Missy,” and encouraged her with a few casual slaps. She cried, “Sir, I’m going to cum. Please may I cum Sir?” At which point his fingers clamped down hard on her nipples and he growled, “You may cum, Missy, but don’t stop shaking these tits,” and she climaxed as she screamed “Thank you, Sir!” Still humping his leg and tossing her torso back and forth even as he grasped her nipples tightly, and it was like she was willingly trying to inflict that pain upon herself.

Onstage her professor concluded his presentation to resounding applause. She sat demurely in her seat, waiting for him to retrieve her, which he did after he made the rounds and spoke with many of his colleagues. He stopped by her chair and said, “Come, Missy.”

They walked side by side to his old office, which she was helping him pack up for his move to a newer and better office and was mostly empty except for the metal filing cabinets and desk. He shut the door and turned towards her with a wide smile.

“Unbutton your blouse and get on your knees, Missy.”

Missy watched him strip off his pants, her eyes fastening on his cock. Salvia pooled in her mouth. He strode behind her and lashed her arms together above the elbow with his belt. He drew off the long silk scarf that concealed her collar and wrapped it tightly around her wrists. He stood in front of her, took his cock in hand. Missy swallowed wetly, her eyes beseeching. Smiling down at her, he rested his cock on her upturned face. She quivered before him but didn’t otherwise move. He hadn’t told her to.

“Good girl,” he said softly, then ordered ”Open.” His cock slid into the O of her mouth, and she took a quick suck. He frowned and pulled out, chastising her, “Bad girl” as he slapped her face with his cock, once, twice. “Let’s try again, Missy.”

Both his hands clasped her head to hold her still as he fucked her mouth. Missy was only capable of keeping her mouth open and gurgling around him. She was dizzy with lust from his scent, the taste of him, the way he ruthlessly used her hole. He forced his cock deeper into her spasming throat until her nose was pressed against his groin, she heard him groan loudly as she choked on his cock. Missy’s useless hands opened and closed behind her back, twitching against her ass as he fucked her face.

Suddenly he pulled out and hauled her up. He pressed her flat against the desk so she rested her face on one cheek, her sweat slicked breasts warming the cool metal. He pulled up the back of her skirt and tucked it into the top of her shirt, helped ease one leg out of the pantyhose, then the cotton panties. He left them trailing around one leg and thrust into her cunt. He pinned her to the desk with a hand bracketing the back of her neck as he pounded into her, almost too fast and too hard for her to climax easily.

Even so, Missy soon heard herself begging, “Please Sir, may I cum? May your slut cum?” 

“No,” her professor answered calmly, “hold still.” He continued fucking her until he came, spurting deep inside her as he kept her pinned her to the desk.

After a while he said, “Kneel, Missy.” She struggled to pull herself up from the desk and sank onto her knees. His cum was seeping out from between her legs onto the scratched linoleum floor. He took his cock in hand and wiped it thoroughly on her face, in her hair, had her lick him for good measure. Then he pointed at the cum on the floor beneath her as he pulled up his pants. “I’m stepping out to the restroom down the hall. Make sure you clean that up by the time I get back.”

(Thank you sillybastard69 for submitting this photo! As you can see, I was inspired.) 

These are nice times, when she is his companion and keeps him company at his feet. Licks his bare feet sometimes, playfully nips an ankle until he retaliates with a smack on her bottom. Resting her head on his thigh. Sometimes sitting on the floor between his spread legs, her head on his thigh, his cock tantalizingly close to her mouth. Sometimes she can’t help herself and her tongue darts out to lick the bulge behind the cotton fabric. He never rebukes her much for these little slips. These are nice times, when he will pet her, scratch his fingers through her hair, wind her hair around his hand, pull her head back so he can properly see her begging face, her open mouth with her tongue out, begging him begging him begging him. These are nice times, when she is on all fours, head down and ass up, wiggling back at him, making her tail plug wag, when his body looms over hers and his hands are anchored at her hips and she is panting, whining, happy, and he is grunting, an animal like her, too.

These are nice times, too, the other times, when she has erred. Like when she has come too quickly, without waiting for permission. When he plays games with her that she is sure to lose, like when he places her on his glass table and tells her not to make a mess, but she can’t help it, he is looking at her breasts and sex and not touching her, and she has made a mess. Like when she uses the toilet and forgets to lift the toilet seat again so it is ready for his use. Times like these, when he sends her crawling after his slipper or newspaper so she can bring it back to him, so she can let him use it on her, the soft slipper with the hard bottom, the newspaper to be rolled up so she can be swatted. But these are nice times too.