This Weekend's Plans
You've got a wild week ahead of you. Get ready for a shocking surprise over the weekend, but until then, you're forbidden from climaxing, no matter what I do to you. I aim to maintain your nerves taut throughout the entire week preceding the weekend, massaging your big clit, pinching your sensitive nipples, and even thrusting my cock into you. Additionally, I intend to have you suck my cock each day, but you'll be denied satisfaction, and so will I.
As you near orgasm, I'll halt, cutting you off just before the point of no return. You'll exhale deeply, your eyes expressing your frustration. I'll grin slyly at you, watching your hips buck as you seek the elusive relief. Your desperation grows more palpable as the days pass. You beg me to let you cum or, at the very least, to watch you masturbate, just to alleviate some of the pressure. By the time we get to bed each night, you're unbearably taut, pushing for relief while becoming decidedly irritable. I know the weekend is coming, and I want you primed and ready for what I'm planning.
If you've any inclination of defying my orders while I'm at work, I'm fast to remind you of the time you deliberately disregarded my instructions and the repercussions you faced. Your face wears a grimace, recalling that occasion, an experience you don't generally recall fondly. The last time you disobeyed me, there were dire effects.
I arrive home early one day to find you fervently fucking yourself, positioned on a soaked towel that is a testament to how much you squirted. You don't even notice me standing there for what feels like an eternity, watching you cum several times in quick succession. After about five or six minutes, you finally come out of your trance and observe me standing there. You apologetically attempt to explain your actions and deny my interpretation, only to be stopped by my commands.
I tell you to "Get on the floor in a doggie style position, and raise your gorgeous ass for me." I brusquely order you to "Put your hands behind your back." Without hesitating, you do as instructed as I swiftly tie one of my ties to restrain your forearms. I'm also leashing your jaw with another tie.
As you consider your predicament, you ponder what I'll do. You calculate that perhaps I'll slide my whole prick into you or rather into your ass, but I have other intentions. I grab the tiny strip of material you call underwear and roughly shove it up inside you. Then, I wring out the soiled towel in your squirt onto your back, ass, and hair, making you squirm and shudder, attempting to control your responses.
I loosen my belt and separate it from my suit pants. The jingling of the belt buckle echoes through the room, signaling the anticipation of the action to come. You moan slightly, assuming I'll synchronize my belt and undress. Instead, I create a loop with the leather of my belt and twirl it around. Leather meets flesh. A loud smack reverberates through the entire house as you let out a high-pitched shriek, slightly muffled by the silky tie attached to your mouth.
I inform you that each time you scream like that, a welt will be added to the end. You're expected to count them all, narrating each one out loud, thanking me for each. You sound so powerless, counting while gagged and gasping for breath as your drool drips down your chin to the floor. The result is a pool of your own moisture on the ground.
By the end of the session, your bottom is shining cherry red as I stroke it. I share with you, "The next time, you'll certainly obey your instructions more thoroughly."
Right away, you capitulate, "Yes, Master, I will. I apologize for ignoring you, Master." I ensure that you have adequate resources to cope with the wound from this session, such as ice packs and cushions. The aftercare necessary after such a session is quintessential to the relationship between a dominant and their submissive.
Over the weekend, Friday strikes and you awaken with brimming vitality and enthusiasm, practically bubbling with delight. You approach me with a query, "Kindly inform me, dear, what do you have in store for me during this weekend?"
I respond by divulging, "You'll learn when the moment arrives. Presently, I have to attend work, though I've reserved a spa day for you with a full-body massage, waxing, nails, toes, and facial. The intended color scheme is a striking, sexy, and risqué red for your toes and nails."
You chocolate-kiss me and embrace me fully nude. I caution you to prepare for my return home. "Oh, and a little reminder - consider nurturing your lumbar region with an enema to lubricate your anus."
Eventually, I come home from work. Anxious energy radiates from you, and it's evident that curiosity is your dominant companion. After sharing my latest revelation, you're notified, "In our midst, five guests are arriving to stay the weekend. These individuals are enormous, athletic, muscular, and adorned with bulging equipment. They're invited and urged to employ you for their pleasure at any given moment and location. If an individual disturbs you with his penis in your mouth at 2 a.m., you'll be obligated to fellate him until he climaxes. If a couple coaxes you outdoors at 4 a.m. to ejaculate over your face, you'll show gratitude. If a trio wishes to triple penetrate you, you'll have intercourse with them until they've all experienced orgasm. You're expected to lick their anuses and suck on their testicles without being requested. If one of them instructs you to go outdoors and pee in the presence of them, at any given time, you're to obey. If they emit cum on you, you're allowed to consume it directly or simply allow it to dry. You are their personal sex toy, their whore for the entire weekend. I shall assist, hold your limbs steady, curb your hair, and provide you with fluids as necessary. By the time they've completed using you on Sunday evening, you'll be sensitive, fatigued, tender, and humiliated."
When my guests depart, I seek you out, also disrobing. We coil in each other's arms, and I soothe you with whispers, while soothing you with any mandated actions. I concede, "You were an exceptional substitute during the entire duration, dearest." Your aura exhibits the scent of cum and pungent secretions. The odour is notably potent yet you're far too fatigued to indulge in a post-shower cleanse. I draw close to you and attempt to neutralize the final spattered cum mark on your stomach and breasts, and it's still simmering hot. It's strong-smelling, viscous, and salty. Once I've cleaned it off, I bend toward your mouth and offer a moist, sloppy kiss, emerging with the remnants of the capricious semen flavor.
As you gradually drift into dreamland, I inquire, "Did the wait make it worthwhile?"
You respond with a content, "Absolutely, gratitude and regards, my dear Sir."
Read also:
- Chapter 4: Text Analysis and Processing
- Rebecca Appreciates Diversity: Chapter 3
- Yesterday Evening in Barcelona Part 1
- Contentment: Copulation in the Countryside Part 8
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