I’ve laid in bed all day, fingers dancing around the lips of my pussy, trying to remain a good girl, as oh, so much dampness settles in. Yet, every time I close my eyes I see myself, wedged under your desk, your cock shoved into my mouth.

Your hand madly grasps at the top of my head as you wrap large clumps of my hair around your fingers, trying your best to use my tresses as reins, using the leverage they provide to move me and my cunt mouth deeper and faster than my neck thought possible. My eyes water as I gasp for breath through my nose, struggling to breathe as your cock assaults the back my too-tiny throat. 

Finally, I have to shut my eyes, no matter how I love to watch your cock careen into me, lest I get too dizzy from how rapidly you push-pull me into your lap. Under the desk, deprived of so many of my senses, penned up and caged as nothing more than a warm, wet opening for your cock, I’m keenly aware of just where my place is. Good lord, it makes me hot. 

…And the fact that you’re busy watching porn while I suck you? That only makes me hotter. 

Mmm. When you’re ready to cum and your palm finds my face, hastily pushing me off you, I happily open my mouth and close my eyes, so very ready for the warm spray that’s about to hit my face. As you grab the back of my head, tipping my face forward to ensure you’ve really gone and marked your territory, I can’t help but wonder if your cumming thinking about me or your slutty porn girls – and that little pit of uncomfortableness in my stomach makes my pussy so wet, I’m almost jealous that you get to come and I don’t. 

As you part my lips with your fingers, edging your cock back into my mouth so I can suck out the final drops of cum, I’m struck with how very badly I feel for those girls you watched only moments earlier. They’re stuck performing for nothing whereas I’m the one who gets your sweet, salty cum. I grin, as you take in a sharp breath, reacting to a quick swirl of my tongue circling around the tip of your cock. Fuck, princess. You really were born to suck cock, weren’t you? You better get comfortable babe, I think I’m going to keep you there for a while. 

I miss waking up in the middle of the night to feel you lightly caressing my hardening nipples, your hand gripping my ass tighter and tighter as you impatiently try to get me to awake up a little. Shhh, honey, shhh it’s okay, I want to touch a little. But be a good girl and lie there for me; I like you half asleep. 

I lie there in the pitch blackness, trying to assess how late into the night it is, wondering how long you’d been touching me before I woke up. I feel …utterly violated and completely turned on. I wonder if it’s okay I’m getting wet or if you’ll be mad that I’m enjoying it. You pull down the front of my nightie, reaching in and helping yourself to my tits, pulling them out into the cool air. I bite my lip, already anxious for the feeling that’s about to wash over me. How am I supposed to pretend to be asleep with your hot wet mouth, your sharp viscous teeth, licking, sucking, biting on my nipple?  It’s okay, princess, just a little taste. You can be a good, silent little girl for me, can’t you, princess? 

Getting no reply, your quickly upon my poor little body, sucking on my tits like some starved baby, my firm, full double- Ds practically dwarfing your head. I know you weren’t a breast man until you met me and my tits, but oh Mr. X, knowing how much you love inhaling my tits and still having enough left outside of your mouth to touch, to fondle, to knead and leave beautiful, dark bruises on, its enough to make me cum just from thinking about it. 

I inhale sharply as you suck with an intense, maddening force and my stupid move is met with a sharp chomp on my oh so sensitive nipple. Quite, princess. Unless…unless you want me to stop? 

Silent panic goes off in my head. Of course I don’t want you to stop – and what a damn evil game this is, no answer is the right answer. As I try to sort the mess out in my head, you smile,  watching dread paint its picture on my face, enjoying every last muscle twitch of the torture you’re inflicting. 

Mmmmm such a good little girl. I breath a sigh of relief as your mouth returns to my now swollen, engorged nipples. Such a smart little girl. One for your hands works its way down my torso, between my legs, under my panties, and into my pussy. Mmmm, such a wet little girl. Oh, am I ever soaked. And you love that, how wet I get for you. I know how you use that of a measurement of just how much you own me.

You groan in utter ecstasy as your deft fingers slip into my cunt the way they would fall into the sticky sweetness of an overripe peach…..

Your darling little Bettie misses you, Mr. X, please hurry home to her soon.

In truth, while Miss Bettie did recently get the best orgasm of her life (more on that soon, I promise), all in all, her box springs haven’t been seein’ too much action of late.

I’ve been sick. Mr. X has been sick. And while I’m always, always up for playing, well…when your backs injured a nice, sharp spanking – the kind where the sole of his hand smack brightly against the roundest part of my ass, sending masterful sound waves through the air, and even more masterful shockwaves through my body – sounds a hell of a lot better than it actually is. 

But while body pain my take the girl out of the game, the truth is the girl loves playing far too much to ever give fun pain up. 

And why should I? Especially when my darling daddy buys me toys and demand I play with them for his benefit. A tiny little bullet for my clit and a longer, more phallic purple thing for my hungry little pussy. 

I lay naked for him on my bed, legs spread so he can watch, drumming the small one on my clit and fucking myself at a furious speed with the purple one, both toys, vibrating at a frenzied pace. Somewhere from underneath my lust induced hazed, I’m aware that Mr. X is sitting in a chair, jacking off to his princess. 

That’s it baby, such a good girl, Daddy loves to watch his pretty girl play with her toys. 

I whimper as I realize I’m becoming too desensitized to come. Mr. X laughs at my distress, only getting hotter from being able to prevent me from getting the release I so desperately need. Aw poor baby’s upset she can’t come. But you know what, princess, daddy likes it this way. Daddy doesn’t want you to come. Least not before he comes on your face. Do you want that? Do you want Daddy to come on your face. 

“Yes. Yes please. Come on my face, please, daddy!” 

He’s standing over me in a split second, hand working his big,strong cock, covered in glossy precum. He strokes his hand down over it once, twice – god do I love that cock – and then groans, finally letting a healthy dose of sticky, salty perfection wash over my face, dripping into my mouth and stinging my eyes. 

I take him into my mouth and suck the rest out until he pulls back and falls back into his chair, a happy heap of spent man. For a moment, the silence between us in only filled with his heaving and the buzz of one too many toys gracing my pussy. 

Okay, princess. Turn off the clit vibe and use your finger while you fuck yourself with that purple one. I want to see you come all over that dildo covered in my cum. 

Never has he made a demand I was happier to follow.

I’m sorry, I’ll be more specific, Mr X. I absolutely love sucking your cock. 

Given, I love your big beautiful cock in anyway I can get it. Dragged across my body, smashed against my face, crammed between my gigantess tits, fucking them mercilessly. And in my body. Fucking me. Any hole. …Where was I again?

Oh yes. Cock, in my mouth. Slippery, salty, smooth. Pulsating, pushing ever deeper in, pumping bitter cum over my tongue and into my throat. Mmmm, Bettie hasn’t given a blow job in weeks and such a pleasure is long over due. 

There are fast and hard blow jobs.  The kind where my head bobs up and back on your cock and a steady speed, your hands laced behind my head, imploring me to go on, no matter how much the gag reflex fights me back. You get into it, lifting your hips to meet my mouth while pressing my head, my mouth – the only important part of me – closer, deeper into your hips. Fucking my face. God. Fuck my face. My throat. Use me, fill me up with your come and let me swallow it. …Sometimes giving blow jobs makes me feel like such a bad girl, because it turns me the fuck on to do it for you, but I just enjoy it too much. I hope you won’t take my pleasure away, dear darling Mr. X, I just love swallowing your cock so.

There are humiliating blow jobs. Ones where I sit under your desk, by your feet. and bob my head against your growing cock while you surf porn. Your very own masterbatory aid. Who knows what you’re looking at while you defile me, what girl or girls your imaging your actually fucking. And it doesn’t make a fucking bit of difference to you how I feel about it, just that I keep doing my job. Sometimes you tell me what you’re looking at: Ooh baby, you’d like this cute little brunette. She’s got big tis like you. Mmm, I’d like to see you suck ‘em while she licks your pussy. You don’t have to touch me, to force yourself down my throat, I’m practically fucking my own mouth on your big, dripping cock. 

But then, there are sexy and slow ones. The kind I give you early in the morning when I wake up to happily the morning light playing off the tent you’ve pitched in your boxers. I slide down your body, careful not to wake you, and begin warming your cock with the lurid wetness of my mouth. A thin layer of cotton the only barrier separating your growing member from the balmy inviting cavity desperately waiting to envelope you.

Slowly, slowly you wake, smiling, stretching, utter bliss washing over you as you awake to your girl and her talents. What are you doin’? 

I sit back on my heels, massaging your cock with my hand, waiting to know if I’m allowed to continue or not. “I thought I might give you a good morning, daddy. May I continue?” You laugh, palming your forehead, trying to get a good look at the clock, determining if your need for sleep outweighs my significant oral fixations. 

You sigh, still smiling though, cock creeping up inch by inch in my able little hands. Your fingers find the elastic band of your boxers as you speak, pulling them lower for me.  Yeah, alright. But daddy gets to sleep after your done. And you better be a good girl and lick it all up. Daddy doesn’t like messes. 

Starting at the base of the shaft I slowly, slowly lick my way up, drawing semicircles around the head as my tongue reach it. “Deal.”

I know tomorrow morning Mr. X will be sorry to hear our earth shattering phone fuck session kept me awake until the wee hours of the morning, but the truth is, when something is that intense, I can’t stop thinking about it. My pussy has just now managed to settle down, 2 hours later. Perhaps I should have played with myself again, thinking about it… for sleep’s sake, of course.

The thing is, I love age play. I love the release. I love how fully sexual I feel as a little Lolita. 

I love the sweetness. I love the innocence. I love the idea of him standing outside my door, caught of guard by the sight and sound his little girl fingering herself, how inappropriately hard it gets him, how he watches until he can’t take it any more and jacks off in secret. Or barges in on me…

I love the punishments. I get so wet to thinking of him catching me masturbating, only then punishing me by humiliating me, forcing me do it in front of him. Or worse,  showing me what my pussy is really for…

I love being my daddy’s dirty little secret. His special little princess. His good little girl he feels so guilty for fucking. I love when he teaches me to masturbate. How he fingers me gently with just the ball of one digit, but his hunger gives way to the addition of another finger, and another, till he gives up and gives in, filling me with his cock, conquering his little virgin angel. I love that he demands that I practice my pussy abusing and holds pop quizzes on it where he observes from all angles, getting up close and personal to make sure his baby girl is doing it right. I love how proud he is of me when I come. 

I love that his most rock-hard-cock thought is of implanting a secret camera in my room, video tapping me day after day, catching me playing with my pussy when I’m not aware. I love that he jacks off to it in secret. Daily. Multiple times day. He can’t stop watching his princess massage her tits and rub at her pussy. Even better is when he catches a live show and is compelled to come in my room an join in. 

I love that he claims to have stag film showings of these tapes. The thought makes me soak right through my panties. My daddy, my special wonderful daddy, thinks that my good girl performances are so hot that he shares them with friends, strangers, anyone willing to pay.  Such a violation, such a fucking hot violation. 

I love being his bad little girl who’s sexual appetite he can’t control, the monster he’s created, so much so his only recourse is to buy a vibrator to prevent her from slutting it up with the neighborhood boys – of course he has to teach her how to use it first. And he can’t control me from showing my friends…

And that was the subject of our fantastic phone fuck this evening, Bettie’s little sleep over orgy, as viewed by her darling daddy, who couldn’t help but join in. Who knew I could come so fucking hard as he detailed to me fucking some blond doggy style while she ate my pussy – her tongue penetrating deeper every tim he rammed her – and that once he was close, he’d pull out and come all over my tits, bathing me in his come as I exploded in her mouth, on her face.

Daddy knew, that’s who. Daddy knows everything. He knows what’s best for me, how to keep my safe and loved, and how to prod me into telling 20 minute epic tales of bisexual teenage debauchery that end with him joining in, lining the girls up on the bed, and fucking them all one by one, of course saving his princess for last, coming inside her, and letting the extraneous girls clean his baby up with their tounges. Daddy knows how thrilling, how freeing, and how comforting it is for his sweet baby girl to put on her Lolita shoes. And how safe she’s able to feel saying such things to him. 

Oh, I do love my daddy. And I absolutely love age play.

My poor, poor pussy has been left abandoned for days. Wet. Swollen. Empty. I’ve been horny as fuck and with nothing to show for it or stick in it. The fact that I have a nasty habit of busting my vibrators doesn’t help either. 

Nor does my latest fantasy. 

It’s become a preoccupation of sorts. Every night as I lay in the dark, alone horny, I draw up this little play in my mind…

It begins with the normal covert flirting that passes for normal in front of other people. You teasingly call me a bad girl, you tell me to “hand the check over to Daddy” (or other socially permisable uses of the word), you swat at my butt endlessly. I giggle, safe in the knowledge that you’re happily controlling the situation. It’s lighthearted, all in fun, and your keeping me safe.

That is, until we get home.

Once the bedroom door closes behind us, you grab my arm and twist it behind your back, shutting off the lights. I howl but you put a quick stop to it. Shut the fuck up, bitch. Like I told you, you’ve been a bad girl and bad girls get punished. 

With that, you twist my arm a little harder and push towards the bed. Dropping my arm, you straddle my body, leaning intimitadingly close and I – having little option – find my self backed up on the bed. Take off your shirt and turn around. 

The tone in your voice is enough to ensure you’re not going to be asked twice. I remove my top and turn, bent over your bed, fully afraid of what’s to come. 

As if I didn’t know. Your large hands press their way up my legs, shoving my skirt up, pulling my panties down. Within seconds, your grinding away against me. I can feel your growing cock inside your underwear poking at me, demanding attention, entrance, fulfillment. Tell me you like it, bitch. Tell how much you love it when daddy uses you like a whore. Beg me to keep going

And I do tell you. As you press against me more roughly, rub your hand along my body even more hasitily, I confide just how fucking wet it gets me when you treat me like a whore. How wonderful it is to be your living, breathing sex doll, at use for your pleasure, whenever you desire. I do my best to rub my pussy against you, the bed, anything, as I detail just how much of a crazed slut I turn it to for you. “And please, please don’t stop daddy. Please don’t stop. Fucking use me. Fucking fuck me. My face, my pussy, my ass, just, god, fuck me.”

We get into a rhythm, your cock in the crook of my ass, begging for real penatration, but prevented by your boxer-briefs. It’s fantastically frustrating. You reach out, grabbing at my chest, pulling my bouncing breasts from my bra, trying to take one in each hand, but failing miserable, their size dwarfing you. Mmmm, princess, I love them titties. 

And I fucking love it when you take me and talk like that. I can’t help it. That kind of degradation gets me insanely fucking wet. And you know it; you chuckle as my pussy wetness dampens your thigh. Mmmmm, that pussy wants me, doesn’t it baby? Well I can be a nice guy if you ask sweetly. Ask me real pretty babe, beg me to fuck you.  

With that, you extract yourself from my body, and lay down beside me on the bed, naked. I lick my lips, momentarily preoccupied by your giant, gleaming cock standing at attention to great me, and then set about the business of batting you my cutest eye bat, bringing up my sweetest little girl voice, and of course, shoving my tits firmly in your face. 

“Pleeease oh please, daddy. Please let me ride you. I’m such a horny, slutty, stupid girl and I so deperately need to be fucked. I need your fantastic cock shoved up inside me, and I’m dying to be filled up with your sticky, salty cum. Let me ride you, just a little, just for a minute? Pleeeeaaase. 

Oh, but your enjoying this. Steadily stroking your thick cock and your smirk turns into a full on set of laughter. Alright princess, hop on daddy’s lap. I want to see them titties bounce when I fill you up with cum. 

While Bettie’s a good, good girl, well, that doesn’t mean she likes not being able to come. I haven’t touched myself, but I can’t help my dreams. And I’ve been having good dreams. 

I love when I have sex dreams about Mr. X. Sure, there’s something to be said about having a naughty dream with a faceless stranger, but such dreams usually make we wake up feeling funny and not at all like the good girl I’m supposed to be. But subconsciously fantasizing about my Mr. X is such a full and powerful kind of submission, its enough to get me through this unfortunately dry period. Well, almost anyway. 

My dream Mr. X has fucked me in every possible place, in every possible way. He’s had me kneel above him so he could get an up close, rather humiliating look at my pussy. He pushed me down to my knees and fucked my face, hand behind my head, controlling my movements, my breathing, shoving his cock into my mouth his only concern. He’s sucked on my tits, maddeningly slowly, while pinning down to the bed. He’s spanked me, splayed out over his knee, my skirt pushed up, my ass black and blue all over. He’s fucked me at a 90 degree angle, standing at the side of the bed, holding my ankles over his shoulders, ramming himself into me. …And most embarrassingly, my dream Mr. X made me rub myself on his leg wish animalistic fervor until I came, just the way he so often commands me to do in real life, but backs down from upon seeing a wave of humiliation wash over my face. But you can’t safeword out of a dream, and when he sees this, I doubt I’ll be able to do so anymore in bed either! 

Having to hold out until Mr. X is better is torture enough, but the fact that he’s managed to torture me in my dreams is purely unfair. Oh well, at least I’ve been ordered to be a good girl and go to bed early – so if nothing else, hopefully my Mr. X will take care of me there.

I smiled as I saw him walk through the living room, towards the kitchen, proud he could see me being his good little maid. 

He came in the room and wrapped his arms around me from behind – one around my waist, the other around my shoulders, holding me, paralyzing me, kissing my neck. Having a good birthday, princess?

I practically purred my response he kissed my neck. “Of course daddy, I’m with you.”

Good. And just as suddenly as he’d grabbed me, he let me go. In the absence of his warmth, his strength, and his stability I was left reeling. Only momentarily though, for his hand roughly returned to my back as he pushed me down, bending me over the kitchen sink. Good baby, I’m glad your having a good day. It’s about to get better. 

Thwack. The sound of his powerful hand meeting my soft near naked bottom rang through the air. I let out a groan to match. 

Thwack. No sooner had he removed his hand, he once again smacked it against my ass. That’s two. Count, bitch. 

Smack. I let out a helpless little unnnhn and grunted “Three”.

Smack. Oooh! “Four.” Smack. Oooh ow! “Five.” 

Yeah? I tossed a sultry gaze over my shoulder and bit my lip, wiggling my ass in an attempt to mask desperate anticipation with something of enticing cuteness. He groaned lightly, rubbing his hand softly on my butt. As he lifted his hand, holding it threateningly in mid air, I turned back to the counter, bracing against it, ready. 

“Six” my lips mouthed, and as I licked them, my attention shot to the wetness in other regions of my body…

Tap. I spun my head around, glaring. Mr. X laughed as he pinched me. Say it. 

“But, ugh, c’mon that’s not even…”

Mr. X stopped laughing. You’re not arguing with me, are you princess? As he sternly chastized me, he played ever so lightly with my ass, teasing me, making me press against him in desperation, suddenly, wanton in my desire for the most sensative of violations. Of course, Mr. X was not going to be swayed. 

I thought you liked pretending that it hurt. Don’t think I didn’t know all about those cute little pain sounds you fake. My eyes widened with the knowledge I’d been caught. His strong fingers caressed my ass, teasing me, threatening to make their way in. You think you’re so cute when you make those little sounds, don’t you? Do you think daddy can’t really make you scream? 

I gulped and shook my head, the shame of my fake noises marring his sweet birthday presents creeping into the apples of my cheeks.  ”Six.” 

Good girl. He lifted his hand from my ass, held it in the air a moment before - 

SmackSmackSmackSmackSmack. Thwap.Smack.Thwap.THWAP.CRACK (“Sixteen! Uhhuunnn!”). 

Time, words, the very world melted away as my whole awareness was consumed with his powerful hand delivering blow after powerful blow to my panty clad ass. In the recess of my mind, a small voice screamed at me to consider my joints, my skin that would be flushed with his hand print – if not covered in blue and purple bruise blossoms – for days, to consider that I’d have a long car trip home soon, and sitting on such a bruised butt would be a harsh reminder of the humiliating act I was submitting myself to at this very moment. …And every word that voice shouted made my pussy gush even harder.

Smack.SMACK.THWAP.CRACK.Thwap.SMACK.CRACK!

Sweaty, panting, pained, I collapsed against the counted. He picked me up, holding me from behind, lightly kissing my neck. You did good, baby. You’re my good girl. He reached around to my front, grasping my tit and playing with my nipple. 

“Yeah?” I managed to squeak out as the fuzzy edges of the world came back into focus. It was a strange shock, finding myself in his kitchen, my panties soaked, oddly aware of how brazenly slutty I’d just been. Suddenly embarresed, I nuzzled into his neck. He chukled, squeezing me tighter, familiar with this moment of insecurity. Removing one of his hands from my waist, he brought it up to my eye level, for me to examine. 

That cute ass made daddy’s hand hurt, baby. Kiss it and make it better. 

I pressed my lips into his salty palm lightly, darting my tongue out to give his hand a proper kiss. And has he pulled his hand away, I reached out for it, taking two of his fingers in my mouth and sucking them in deeply…

Bad Bettie, bad. 

She’s been sick. There have been car accidents. There have been surgeries. There’s been more sickness. My dearest Mr. X has been understanding, sweet, and done his best to alieveate my sadness with copious amount of orgasms. He’s also let me slide on my assignments a far as writing up my fantasies. But I’ve got prescription pain killers now. And I love my Mr. X. And besides, I’m horny. 

Right now, all I can think about is how wet my pussy, how completely fucking turned on I am despite it being after 4am, and all I can do is  daydream about the last time Mr. X fucked me. Hard cock up my tight little snatch, hand pressed roughly against my neck. 

In bed, a leg spread over his body as I attempted to spread myself as wide as possible, trying let him see as much of the action as possible. I abused my clit for his pleasure, caressing, rubbing, practically kneading it. I scooted my butt up towards his crotched and rubbed it against his him. To my delight, his erect cock poked against its cloth prison, lightly spearing my behind. My sticky pussy overflowed with juicy wetness as he massaged one of my tits, urging his little girl to make good on her performance. 

Come for me, bitch, come for daddy. 

Horny as I was and as badly as I needed to come, I just couldn’t conceieve of coming without at least some of him inside me. I spend far too many nights on my own and while I live to please, while I’ll abide by any decision he makes, I just…had to try. 

As I mercilestly molested myself, I attempted my most desperately cute voice, breathy moans and the thwuck sounds of my soaked pussy joining in on the begging. “Please, Daddy oh please. I…I don’t want to come. Not without you inside me. Your fingers. Your tonuge. Your giant perfect cock. Please grant your little girl just a few inches of your body. Let me come on your cock, please? I love you. I love you so much and I just want to cover your cock in my cum, pleeease.” Begging made me even hotter and I twisted on the bed, desperately trying to quell the orgasm rising in the pits of my belly. 

He rolled his eyes. Needy little cunt. Fine. You have 5 seconds to get into position or else you’re not going to be allowed to come at all. 

Like I needed more than one. In mere seconds – though waiting even that long was tortuous – my Mr. X had his thick cock buried deep, deep in my pussy. I’m going to make that pussy hurt. I want to feel that I’ve been inside you for days, baby. 

God, do I feel perfect when you’re inside me. With my legs wrapped around his back, I concentrated on the reality of the situation – that my pussy was being penetrated, violated, fucked, by my perfect man’s cock. That he was mere minutes away from spilling so much cum so deep inside my body. And there was nothing I could do about that. My clit swelled at the thought of it. 

I couldn’t help it, I suck on of my hands in between us, diddling my clit while he fucked me. That’s it baby, come all over Daddy’s cock, you can do it. You’re a big girl, come all over my cock. 

Mr. X likes to grab onto my head as he fucks me like a blowup doll, using my body for leverage to get deeper penetration in whatever way he needs, but as his hands traveled down my head, caressing my landing lightly on my chest, I felt a new surge of horniness. Sure he was probably traveling down to play with one of my tits, but I had other ideas. 

Though I was deeply afraid Mr. X my be angered by my boldness, took his hand with my free hand and moved it back up to the base of my neck. I kissed him roughly, my tongue tracing light circles around his as he rammed his cock into me. To my delight, Mr. X pressed lightly down on my throat.

Holding me in my place, daring me to move, banging my pussy with increasing vigor, and completely dominating my body. 

I’m not sure how long I lasted after that. That pressure on my windpipe – and the knowledge that I no longer had the option to say no, that I was absolutely being fucked – pushed me into intense otherworldly space where nothing matter. Nothing except his hand, his cock, and my aching pussy. I begged to be allowed to come, some kind of string of incoherent babbling that even I barely understood. I just knew I needed to come. Now. 

As my sweet Mr. X granted me permission, I rocketed my hips on his cock at jackhammer speed, fucking myself just as roughly as he was fucking me, and in practically seconds I came violently and loudly all over his cock, the walls of my pussy contracting spasticly as a cascade of warm spunk washed over them. Mr. X pushed in even deeper, grabbing myself and shoving himself in deeper than he was meant to go, daring my body to do anything but respect and accept his fantastic load of cum. 

Full, exhausted, and utterly blissed out, Mr. X allowed me to fall asleep on his chest, using my forehead as a prop for his magazine.

….Reliving that makes me incredibly horny even now. And while I long for the warm hand of control all of his rules lay over my life, there are times I absolutely hate the no-cumming without him rule.  Ah well, I guess I’ll just have to be a good girl and play with myself until I fall asleep. Thinking of him.

Three nights ago, Mr. X was too tired to listen to me cum and mandated that I masturbate on my own and report back to him about the experience.

At first I was thrown, to the point of near-tears. In the 18 months that I have been his, I might have climaxed on my own about seven times. And have felt utterly guilty after each one. So much so, not only do I barely enjoy the experience, I tend to call him up crying, begging for my master’s forgiveness. My body, my pussy, my heart, are all so completely his property that cumming without him feels like cheating. 

But Mr. X was adament that my pussy was to seize in pleasure that night, and who am I to argue? After assuring me that not only did I have his permission to touch myself, but that I was absolutely ordered to finger myself, he bid me goodnight and left me to my work. 

I closed my eyes, nervously crept my fingers down to my dripping wet cavern, and tried desperately to fill my lonely mind with thoughts of you…

…As I spread the lips of my pussy apart and lightly teased my clit with my middle finger, I imagined how proud you’d be of me. How you must be smirking at yourself smugly in the bathroom mirror, brushing your teeth some 150 miles away, realizing that at this very moment, your little princess was abusing herself to thoughts of you.

And, oh, how I abused myself. One finger became two as I imagined you watching me. Scoffing at what a tremendous nymphomaniac I am, a girl who can hardly keep my hands out of my panties. This is why the “no masturbation” rule is in place, after all, not because you want to stake your claim to my pussy, but for my own good, for without it, your stupid, horny girl would spend morning, noon, and night caressing, rubbing, touching, and all around fucking herself. 

My pussy filled with wetness and I stuck a finger in my hole, still working at my clit with my thumb as your voice filled my head. Horny little slut. You can’t possibly be trusted on your own. I think I’m going to have to keep you, chain you up so you can’t get in any trouble. That’s right, hands tied high above your head; it’s the only way I can be sure my dirty little girl isn’t being bad.  My slut, my whore, my pretty little property. Don’t worry though, bitch, you’ll still be coming a lot, only, it’ll be on my schedule. With my princess under lock and key ,all I’d have to do is walk into your room, toss you a toy, and demand that you fuck yourself, bitch and watch you go to work. And if I got bored? I’d walk away. You better keep me entertained, baby, you don’t want to know what’s gonna happen if you don’t…

It was somewhere around there I exploded, my clit pulsating, sending bands of warm pleasure radiating through my whole body. As my pussy calmed down, the manic contractions finally subsiding, I reveled in how fantastic to have a real and fulfilling orgasm on my own.

But I wasn’t really on my own. With his permission, and demand for a report afterwards, it was like he was holding my hand the whole way. Getting off was a service, was in service, for him – the fact that i got pleasure from it, well, that’s a side note.