Collar Part II - Toilet Training
Mistress approached and petted my hair with one hand. She smoothed down my locks
delicately. Then I was instructed to hold my hair flat.
Again I heard the gag's d-rings jingle. I would know them, even just by sound,
anywhere. They were attached to Mistress' second favorite gag. She ordered it
from a custom leather shop in Toronto. I remember the phone conversation well.
She knew exactly what she wanted and took great care in her descriptions.
It was fashioned from a long leather strap that could have been used as an arm
binder if she so wished. Instead, Mistress had it threaded through a large
rubber ball. She fixed two, thin, steel d-rings to one end instead of buckles.
She had grown weary of how the first, buckling gag she bought wouldn't tighten
to her wishes. It was always either a bit too loose or too tight. So she decided
to have her own gag made.
I was rough on gags, especially since Mistress liked to use them so often. She
seemed of the opinion that robbing a submissive of speech made them more pliant.
She liked that I had to use body language, or only my eyes if bound, to
communicate. I know for a fact that restriction excited her.
Her excitement aroused me in turn. Plus there were objectification issues to be
considered. I'm not saying that Mistress treated me like a doormat when I was
gagged, but I certainly couldn't talk back or readily disagree with much of
anything, now could I?
At any rate, as I mentioned, I was rough on gags. I tended to bite into the
rubber balls out of a reaction to pain, pleasure, anxiety, or other intense
stimuli and emotions. As such, the balls required routine replacement. Mistress
usually purchased them at Toys R Us. She found that quite amusing. So did I.
That night, as I knelt there on the floor, surrounded by people I hardly knew at
a private party, I saw the gag lowered over my head and noticed it sported a
brand new rubber ball. It was purple. It made me wonder what was in store. Was I
only being gagged for the spankings mentioned? Was there something else? Or
perhaps Mistress only wished to show off her second favorite gag. I had no idea,
but I wondered quite a bit.
Mistress threaded the straps around my head as I pressed my hair down to my
shoulders in an attempt to keep it out of the way. Then she pulled gently, but
firmly, until the ball was pushed well into my mouth. My jaw was wrenched wide.
The purple ball was a bit bigger than the ones she usually purchased. I felt a
strong suspicion that my mouth would be rather sore by the end of the night. I
briefly hoped that Mistress didn't wish me to pleasure her orally that night. I
doubted my mouth would be up to it.
But I didn't have time to dwell on what would happen later. Mistress ordered my
hands to my side. She petted me again and grabbed the gags straps, gently
guiding me forward as someone might do with a horse in tack and bridle. "Bum up,
pet." She ordered. I understood and complied.
I fell forward gently and rested on my hands and knees. My back was arched and
my bum was quite prominent. But it didn't seem to be quite enough. "Lower your
shoulders to the ground." Mistress ordered, "In fact, assume your Mantra
position."
I nodded once. My chest touched the carpet, which seemed so soft to my
fingertips but so rough to my nipples, even through the silk blouse. I turned my
head to one side. My hands found a place parallel to my shoulders, palms down.
My legs spread a bit but remained mostly in place. I supported myself on my
chest and knees with my rear end sticking prominently up into the air.
My sex ached in that position. I was excited by having Mistress' second favorite
gag in my mouth, incapable of speech, and objectified but obviously cared for as
I enjoyed. Mistress had me in a position that she loved as well. She liked to
see me with my rear up like that. She had full access to both my tight rear end
and my little pussy.
She preferred me to masturbate for her like that. She would have me make a show
of it for her. I found it thoroughly embarrassing, but astoundingly erotic as
well. It was also the position that I took most often when Mistress wore a
harness and dildo.
So to say my sex ached while in that position is perhaps a bit of an
understatement. I was slick with excitement, which became obvious when Mistress
lifted my skirt, bunching it up around my waist, and removed the thong panties I
wore. The bottom of the blue silicone butt plug was then visible.
I heard a few appreciative murmurs from those around the room. "Good girl."
Mistress cooed. I thought to smile briefly. The gag would not allow it. "I
suppose we'll have to remove this." Mistress continued, wiggling the base of the
plug. I whimpered into the gag. I'm not sure anyone heard me. "Charles, would
you be so kind as to send someone for a few paper towels?"
"Fetch boy." Charles's voice said in a soft tone. I couldn't see him, but I
guessed that he sent Daniel. Mistress continued to wiggle the butt plug's base
and added a soft fingertip upon my clit. She didn't pinch or rub, only applied a
constant pressure while she wiggled the plug. I couldn't help but writhe and
whimper. I wanted to come right that second.
Daniel returned in a short moment later and knelt beside me. He carried a paper
towel in his hand. I silently wished he had taken longer. Mistress paid him no
mind at all. With my head turned so that my left cheek pressed against the
carpet I could just make her out in my peripheral vision. "Charles?" She asked,
still concentrating on my bum.
"Is there a problem Loren?" Charles answered. Daniel shifted his weight
nervously from one knee to the other. The black dress slacks he wore picked up a
few fibers from the ornate rug beneath us.
"While I don't like to split hairs," Mistress answered in a matter-of-fact tone,
"Your submissive has only returned with one paper towel. I requested a few paper
towels. Plural." She continued to press my clit and wiggle the plug. I think
Daniel heard my soft mewling, even through the gag.
"I don't question your commitment to your guests," Mistress continued, "But I
would like your submissive to correct his mistake."
All murmurs in the room stopped. Any hushed conversation died off. There was a
pause. I felt my Mistress stiffen. I worried for a moment that she may have
offended Charles until he said, very calmly, "Daniel, I suggest you listen more
carefully to requests from our guests."
I heard Daniel swallow. I was quite glad not to be in his place. I imagined him
chained to some obscure torture device long after all the guests from the
night's party were gone. I was willing to bet he would be very sore tomorrow.
Daniel hesitated a moment, then asked, "Master, may I please fetch another few
paper towels for the Lady?"
"I suggest you do it quickly." Charles replied.
"Thank you Master." Daniel said. He left the single paper towel on the carpet in
front of my Mistress and then scrambled into the kitchen. From my position on
the floor, with my head turned to one side and my cheek lying flat on the rug, I
saw him run. I hadn't seen anyone in a suit move like that. I wondered why his
Master had him dress in such a way for a private kink party. Then I wondered
what the suit might conceal.
Mistress chuckled a bit, as did most of those in the room. I doubt Charles did
though. When he spoke he sounded very controlled. It was the same control I
heard in my Mistress' voice that signaled I was in serious trouble. When she
held emotion from her voice, spoke in cold tones, and became sarcastic, it meant
that she held back anger.
But I stopped thinking about that. Mistress pushed on my clit a few times in a
pulse. It felt so very good. I couldn't help but moan into the gag. At that
moment I didn't care about anyone else around the room. I hoped my Mistress
heard me and knew my reactions were genuine.
Daniel returned with three paper towels in one hand and a small roll in the
other. He knelt beside me once again, facing my Mistress. "Here are three more
my Lady." He reported, then held the roll up, "And more if you need them." From
the corner of my eyes I could see that he was in a very submissive posture. He
knelt with his body stretched out, his arms above his head. His torso was
parallel to the ground and hovering over the run not more than two inches.
At first I thought that he reached for my Mistress. Then I realized it was an
offering posture. He held the paper towels in his hands.
"Better." Mistress said to him. Then I think that she turned to Charles to relay
her thanks. I'm not sure, because she removed her finger from my clit and I
couldn't hear her words over my own gagged howling. The extended pressure along
my clit built to a sort of precipice of sensation. Removing that pressure
suddenly didn't allow the sensation to ebb slowly. Instead it pushed pleasure to
an abrupt peak, then it descended. I clenched the muscles of my thighs to
keep from having an orgasm without permission. I had little doubt that Mistress
expected my reaction.
When I opened my eyes I found that I'd twisted my face so that my forehead
ground into the rug. Mistress giggled a bit. I think she said something like,
"My, my, my..." but I'm not sure. I was nearly deafened by my own heavy
breathing. Since I couldn't breathe out of my mouth, all that air had to travel
through my nose. It was difficult to slow the rhythm of my diaphragm.
Not that Mistress gave me the time to do so. She immediately began to pull the
plug from my rear. She swatted my bottom lightly and wiggled the base of the
plug. "I'm going to pull this out now." She instructed, "I can't have anyone
swinging, hitting the plug instead of your bum, and damaging you. I plan to use
this orifice later."
Her words brought a wave of smiles, giggles, and sighs from those seated around
us. The sound of their approval made me blush bright scarlet. I'd forgotten they
were present. I wished Mistress had chosen a private location to collar me. I
was so very embarrassed. But she would do as she pleased within the safety
restrictions of our contract.
The plug was removed quickly. I relaxed as best I could at first so the wider
base of the plug would slide out easily. Then I clenched to assure no mess
followed. I'd given myself a small enema that morning, as I did every day to
assure I was clean in the event Mistress wished to use my rear, but I wanted to
be safe.
I felt the rough paper towel dab at my rear to clean off the lubricant that
trickled out for a moment after the plug was removed. Then Mistress patted my
bum. "Good girl." She cooed again. I preened... such as I could in such an
interesting position.
She handed a wad of paper towels to Daniel. I guessed that it contained the
plug. "May I have your slave clean this Charles?" She asked without turning her
attention away from Daniel.
"I think that's the least he can do." Charles responded. Again I felt the chill
in his voice and thought how sore Daniel would be tomorrow. "Take it into the
kitchen Daniel. Use gloves and antibacterial soap." He commanded, "Now."
"Thank you." Mistress commented. Then she returned her attention to me. "I think
I will be the first." She stated with a hint of mischief in her voice. She
grabbed the collar from behind, but didn't pull it so hard that I choked.
Instead, she guided me into a sitting position slowly. She held my chin with her
fingertips, had me look her in the eye, and said, "I give you one choice in the
matter pet. You may kneel here, on the floor." She moved her hand from my chin
and patted the rug beside me.
"You may kneel over Charles's ottoman over there." Mistress said, pointing to a
dark, cloth covered footrest in front of the sofa.
"Or you may stand, bent over the arm of that chair." Mistress said, pointing to
a chair occupied by a very sexy butch woman with a petite, femme submissive
sitting in her lap.
Mistress returned her gaze to me. Her hand again cradled my chin and lifted my
gaze to hers. "What will it be?" She asked.
I knew better than to hesitate. I answered quickly. "The ottoman, please
Mistress." I said. She smiled. I suspected that she knew what I would choose.
She released my chin and I let my gaze fall to the floor in front of me. I
caught glimpses the others in the room and blushed again. They were paying
attention as if what unfolded before them was absolutely fascinating. Perhaps it
was. But hadn't they all seen it before? I briefly wished they would become
bored and wander off to the kitchen or strike up conversations amongst
themselves.
But they didn't. Of course whispering broke out here and there. Most seemed
glued to the scene in front of them though. Many of the Dominants grinned madly.
My Mistress was in good form that night and they knew and appreciated it.
Mistress and Daniel dragged the ottoman to the center of the rug and I was
placed over it with my bum in the air. Charles appeared with a length of soft,
white rope. Interestingly enough I hadn't even noticed he was gone for a moment.
I chastised myself for missing that detail. Mistress would have my hide if she
knew. I hoped that she didn't ask about it later.
Mistress seemed satisfied once my wrists and thighs were secured to the four
small legs of the ottoman. She stood and walked around me. I think she enjoyed
the view. "Perhaps I should be the first to make her bottom rosy," She said
thoughtfully to the room's occupants, "But I've collared her tonight. I know
that she's mine. I don't have to prove it any further." She paused. I imagined a
Cheshire Cat's grin upon her face. "Besides, I'd rather watch her face."
She stopped in front of me. I could well make out her boots and legs up to the
knees. She reached down and caressed my face and stroked my hair. Then she
turned and offered to trade the Dominant who was sitting in the chair directly
in front of me his seat for the chance to spank me first. The Dom grinned and
agreed. His submissive girl, who was sitting on the floor at his feet, smiled as
well.
The look his submissive's face spoke volumes. No doubt she was glad that someone
else would bear his desire for pain that night. I'm sure she hoped he would be
spent and aroused when they arrived home after the party. Perhaps she would only
have to perform sex duties that night.
So it began. My bottom was spanked, paddled, and then flogged by every single
Dominant present and some of their submissives besides. Daniel was one of them,
though he was exceedingly gentle.
Mistress watched me through it all. She caught every emotion in my eyes. She
absolutely radiated when the last person finished and she stood to wipe away my
tears. I had plenty for her to wipe away. I was a sobbing mess and felt terribly
ashamed by it. In my thoughts I cursed the gag. My nose ran a bit from crying. I
could scarce breathe. I'd also drooled onto Daniel and Charles's carpet.
My bottom felt as though it were on fire. I knew I would be bruised and welted.
Sitting in my office the next day would be nearly impossible. My boss would
wonder why I stood and paced so much. But that didn't matter, especially not at
that moment.
Mistress' hands were magic. They were a balm unto themselves. They felt
wonderful, soft, and warm. Her soothing words, which I was too distressed to
understand at the time, felt just as good to my ears as comforting, tangled
whispers. She untied me slowly. Occasionally her sharp fingernails raked my bum
ever so slightly. Each fingernail felt like it left a line of fire across my
already sore flesh. I cried into the gag a bit more.
Then it seemed that I was suddenly transported to the edge of the carpet. I
didn't remember sitting up, yet I knelt upright, was near a chair, and
comfortably cradled in Mistress' arms. I blinked tears away as she told me what
a good girl I'd been and how proud she was of me. I remained there for what
seemed like many minutes.
Mistress whispered a good many things into my ears. She asked of my emotional
well being. I subtly informed her when I was well and she nodded, and then
stood. Her voice returned to an authoritative tone. It was almost as if someone
threw a switch.
"Kneel." Mistress commanded, again pointing to the carpet. The room became quiet
as voices died down to listen. Mistress didn't raise her voice, so others had to
quiet themselves to hear. I wondered briefly at her. Did she do it with that
purpose, to quiet the room? Or did she care, so long as I could hear her?
It mattered to me only as an item of curiosity. I did as I was told and crawled
to the center of the room. I was careful not to wag my rear as I crawled away.
The ottoman was still in the center of the rug. I folded my legs beneath me as I
sat next to it, settling my sore, sore rump upon my heels. It felt good to be
still, yet the heat from the skin of my lower legs and feet made my rear and the
backs of my thighs seem like they glowed white-hot. I wasn't sure how I would
manage to sit still for very long.
Charles turned to my Mistress again. "Let's get the real fun started." He said.
My Mistress nodded again I cringed. The real fun? What he could possibly mean.
Surely Mistress wouldn't allow my poor bottom to be paddled and spanked further!
I had to be able to sit down at work tomorrow. But, as I said, I only had a
brief moment to wonder.
"sara!" Charles's voice boomed, filling the room, "I understand you've a toilet
fantasy. Is that right?"
I closed my eyes and felt my cheeks grow immeasurably hot. I had little doubt
they matched the color of my rear. In fact, I knew that my entire body must have
flushed. My teeth bit the ball-gag hard as I nodded my head up and down in an
affirmative reply.
"Good." Charles replied, "I was worried you'd deny it. Since your face is so
red, I'd say that was a tough thing to admit."
Mistress smiled in front of me. She seemed proud. "I saw the posts you made to
an internet forum, stating that you were curious about toilet training." She
said calmly, "I became curious myself. You've maintained that any play involving
human waste is, at minimum, a soft limit." She paused. I felt her scrutiny. "Has
that changed?" I shook my head from left to right to indicate that it had not.
"Then I think you'd best explain yourself." She said. Mistress then sat on the
ottoman next to me and removed the gag gingerly. I supposed that she remembered
how her finger leaving my clit made me react and knew that, while not a reaction
of pleasure, the releasing of the gag had a similar effect. It was more like the
plug leaving my bum. I would be left empty. She released the straps slowly,
careful not to catch my hair in the rings, and eased the ball from my jaw.
I clenched the muscles and closed my teeth together. They felt odd, after having
been separated for nearly forty-five minutes. They didn't fit correctly at
first. When I tried to thank her I found that I couldn't talk very well. My jaw
was terribly sore. I kissed Mistress' boots in thanks instead.
She seemed to think that was appropriate. She called me a good girl again. She
whispered in my ear that I was to stay put, there, in the middle of the room for
now. As she walked back to the chair in front of me I heard Charles's voice
behind me again.
"Your Mistress came here a few weeks ago." He said, "She asked me about toilet
training. I thought she'd lost her mind at first. Everyone knows I'm not much of
a fan of that stuff. No offense." He held up his hands in a motion of mock
surrender, "Then I mentioned it to Daniel here." I imagined him petting his
slave boy at that moment, though I can't say I know if he did or not. My back
was to him then. I thought that perhaps I should turn but then I remembered
Mistress in front of me. I decided to face her unless she directed me to do
otherwise.
"He said a round table discussion could be good." Charles continued, "And your
Mistress loved the idea. That's what we're doing tonight. Everyone here knows
something about toilet training and want to talk to you and your Mistress about
it."
Then Charles introduced everyone around the room. For that, I decided that I'd
best turn to face the guests as they were mentioned. I bowed to each of them,
Dominant, submissive, or otherwise. Charles paused long enough to allow me a few
words to thank them for coming and for the use of his home, which seemed to make
him smile.
"Do you see that Daniel?" Charles asked of his slave, "That's a well behaved
submissive. I'll bet she would have brought more than one paper towel." Charles
swatted the back of Daniel's head playfully but the look in his eyes was
anything but playful.
I wished that he wouldn't use me as an example. I was hardly the best behaved
submissive in the room. I'd made at least a dozen mistakes that week alone. I
knew I was no model to be used. But Charles continued.
"Fist," My Mistress said, "I think you should tell us what you consider toilet
training, what appeals to you about it, and how that affects your personal
safety limits."
I was suddenly very aware of all eyes on me. I blushed again and heard someone's
submissive giggle under her breath. Other than that, I think I could have heard
a pin drop.
I swallowed, thanked Mistress for allowing me to address the group, and replied
that I considered toilet training or toilet use of a submissive to be the
consumption of the Dominant's waste products. Most of the room's occupants
nodded but one Dominant woman with black hair spoke up.
"That doesn't always have to be the case." She said. She petted her submissive
at her feet. He was dressed in nothing but a leather harness across his chest.
"My alex doesn't swallow." A ripple of quaint laughter spread throughout the
room. The Domme smiled. "Seriously, he doesn't want to consume my piss but he
lives to be used as a urinal. So he spits when he's done. It seems to work well
for us."
I nodded and several others did as well. My Mistress cocked her head to one
side. The Dominant man sitting to her left did as well. I was glad that at least
I wasn't the only one in the room who hadn't considered that particular
possibility until it was mentioned.
"But do go on." The raven haired Domme insisted. I did.
"What appeals to me about it?" I said, and then paused. I sighed and blushed
again. My Mistress smiled. "I can't say it's the waste itself. In fact, I'm
completely appalled at the idea of scat. I don't like that thought at all. Even
watching it makes me sick. But when I think of my Mistress occasionally pressing
her delicious sex to my mouth, of her scent filling my nostrils, of her taste on
my lips... then of her spilling into me... it makes me wet."
I swallowed. "I honestly think it's the intimacy of the idea that has me
fascinated. And... well... there's the humiliation aspect of it as well."
A tall, lanky Dominant man with close-cropped silver-blonde hair smacked his
thigh. "Ha!" He said, "I knew it!" He paused just long enough to slap his
submissive on the back. "That's what my boy riley here loves about it. He gets
off on the humiliation."
Heads bobbed knowingly. Mine did also, but more from suspicion. I knew myself
fairly well, but this was an area I'd not explored. My Mistress was very brave
to have brought me there. I gave myself a little credit too, for not running
screaming away.
A submissive femme with a shaved head whispered something to her butch Daddy.
Then, after receiving a nod, the submissive asked, "So what are your limits?
What do your limits allow in the way of exploration when it comes to being a
toilet for your Mistress?" Her Daddy smiled. It was a good question and well
asked. I would have been proud too.
I paused. I wasn't sure how to explain it. Then I looked up at my Mistress. She
still held the ball gag in her lap. "It's something that I wish to explore. I
want to know more. Perhaps I'm willing to try it. Perhaps I'm not. I'd like to
talk about it though. It's a soft limit because I know so little about it and am
afraid. It's a soft limit because I won't do it without prior negotiation
first."
Mistress nodded. She had suspected as much. I smiled to see her seem so at ease.
She was happy. Better than that, she was proud of me. I briefly thought that
there was no better feeling in the world.
"It's also something that I will only even consider doing with certain
individuals." I continued, "As I mentioned, I'm attracted to the intimacy that I
think the act could lend to a relationship. Right now I would only even so much
as think of doing toilet training with my Mistress. I wouldn't do it for someone
else."
I looked directly at my Mistress' collarbones. "With respect Mistress," I added,
"I would use a safe word even if you ordered me to perform the act with someone
else." Again Mistress nodded and smiled. Had she expected that as well?
The talks continued for nearly an hour and a half. I heard the recounting of
several first attempts. Some Dominants openly bragged but mostly the talk was
very informative and casual. I was intrigued by many of the new possibilities
given. I was also very frightened that Mistress might approach me with the
suggestion that I be her urinal in the next week. I was embarrassed even at the
mere thought of discussing it with her... much less the idea of actually
performing for her.
After the discussion we were all invited into Charles's basement. Properly named
his dungeon, there were many beautifully crafter pieces of equipment. A Saint
Andrews cross made of an exotic looking dark wood stood proudly in one corner.
Two bondage tables rested against opposite walls of the room. And there were
many other smaller devices as well. I remembered Daniel bragging about the fact
that serving a Master who is a carpenter has many perks.
I was finally allowed to fade a bit into obscurity. My bottom was still sore and
felt swollen so large that I could have had two zeppelins as seat cushions. Not
that I sat down. I knelt on the floor no matter which corner I occupied.
I was thankful that Charles had thought to make up for the paper towel
embarrassment earlier by having Daniel wait on my Mistress nearly hand and foot.
It meant I didn't have to do it and could thereby avoid the limelight. Mistress
seemed to be the center of attention now. Sure, several of the more intimate
groups had begun to use the equipment, but many of the Dominants were chatting
with my Mistress.
She seemed to tire of all the attention quickly though. It wasn't long before
she peered around the large basement, looking for me. When she saw me her eyes
lit up. She excused herself from the circle around her. She briefly spoke to
Charles on her way across the room, and he smiled when they spoke.
I didn't have time to ask how well the conversations went or what Charles
enjoyed so much. Mistress looped a finger through the collar around my neck and
dragged me upstairs. My cheeks flushed pink when she closed the door of the
master bathroom behind us.
"Kneel, slut." She commanded. I did. "Good," She said, "Now crawl to me." I then
did as she wished, swaying my hips as I crawled.
When I reached her boots I stopped. I kissed each one. "I apologize for my words
earlier this evening during dinner. I trust you." I said.
"We'll see." Mistress said, just before lifting her skirt. "Take these off." She
said, lightly snapping the waistline of her black, lace panties.
I blinked, a little shocked, but complied. My fingers looped through the
waistband and pulled her panties down her legs, and over her boots to her
ankles. I held them as still as I could while she lifted first her right foot,
then her left from the tiny garment.
I then folded the undergarment and turned to crawl toward the counter. But
Mistress stopped me. She touched my shoulder and said, "No, the floor beside you
is fine." I wasn't surprised at all that she anticipated exactly what I was
about to do. I was accustomed to folding Mistress' clothes carefully and in
places where her dog, Chiot, wouldn't disturb them. Instead, I lay her panties
next to me on the floor as per her wishes.
"I seem to have become a bit wet." Mistress then said in a mock innocent tone,
"I think that perhaps you should dry me."
Drying her was a phrase she used when she left the bathtub or shower. I didn't
refer to spiriting water from her skin with a warm towel, though I was happily
expected to do that as well. What it meant was that I was to lick moisture from
her sex... often creating more moisture in the process. But it was about
pleasure more than anything. And I dearly loved it when Mistress allowed me to
dry her. So when she said it, standing in front of me, I knew exactly what she
wanted.
"Yes Mistress!" I replied immediately. I crawled forward and then sat up on my
knees so that my face was level with her thighs. She moved forward a bit and
cradled my head in her palms. I felt her fingers through my hair as I closed my
eyes.
My tongue extended and found her clit with ease. I lapped it slowly, softly at
first like a cat would lick milk from a saucer. She tasted wonderful, like honey
and musk mixed. Though when she said she was only a bit wet she wasn't entirely
honest. My tongue found her to be quite moist.
Mistress sighed. As my tongue probed deeper I reached up with my hands and
parted her lips to lick her entire sex. I felt Mistress' fingers gather in my
hair and pressed harder with my tongue upon her sensitive clit.
My mouth was still sore from being held open by the gag earlier. However, though
earlier that evening I feared being too sore to please Mistress orally, I found
that my desire to lick her to orgasm quite overpowered my response to my jaw's
dull ache. I resolved not to stop until she found release or ordered me away. My
mouth was already sore. What was a little more for the woman I all but
worshipped?
Occasionally Mistress allowed me to penetrate her with my fingers as well, and I
decided to try it. I knew there was only a few other ways to bring her to
intense orgasms quickly and hoped she would allow it that time. I stroked the
length of her sex with my index and middle finger and was rewarded when Mistress
spread her legs a bit more in front of me. I paused to suck her clit into my
mouth, and then slid my fingers gently into her.
Again, I felt her fingers tangle in my hair. I knew I was very lucky indeed to
have been allowed to please Mistress in such a way. My own sex ached as I
pressed Mistress' g-spot with my fingertips and lapped at her clit.
"Bite me." Mistress commanded between increasingly ragged breaths, "But not hard
you little slut. You know how I like it."
I subtly nodded my agreement. I knew just what she liked. She taught me. I
prided myself on that fact. So I closed my teeth on her clit softly. I applied
only the slightest bit of pressure and then released. Then I repeated the
action. I felt her thighs tighten when I nibbled her clit. She moaned each time.
It was heaven.
She came in mere moments. I thought that she would all but tear my hair out in
an attempt to keep silent so the others in the party wouldn't hear us. Still,
she moaned a good bit.
When I stopped I could tell that she was dizzy and her knees were weak. I guided
her to sit on the edge of Charles's jacuzzi as soon as she released her death
grip upon my hair. It was a bit of a trek across the large bathroom but I made
certain she didn't falter. Once she was seated, I knelt at her feet. She stroked
my hair and called me her good little girl so many times that I lost count.
