Spanking
"First Love"
Fun In The Tropics
Tommy sent me shopping this afternoon without him. I looked at most of the belongings in the antique shopping precinct at least once, returned to barter over a example I might wish for, and went back home almost empty handed. If it doesn’t stab me to my soul or isn’t a tremendous bargain, the shops get to keep their trade in.
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I wonder why he required me out of the board. Probably one of his surprises. I miracle what he’s got in pile for me this calculate. We made our lists of stuff we wanted to do with each other over the months of our enforced separation. This guy has brought such delight to my vivacity; I feel excited by his merest attendance.
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Home at last! I toss the post on the small table and collect my “welcome home” kiss and we hug. He smells astonishing. There is a perfume about him that drives me to disruption – soap, and chip lotion, and ....... him. He whispers in my ear, “Ann has a bolt from the blue waiting for her.”
I tense at the name. Ann.” Whatever it is, I’m never disappointed. I tread away and gaze into his eyes, at his countenance for a indication. Nothing beyond the smirk so slight that it is almost unnoticeable to anyone but me. But there’s a spangle in his watch that tells me..... the game’s occurring.” He’s an gremlin. What in the globe can it be?” Those words bring joy to my soul, to my depths. I smirk hugely and have control over for the bedroom. Tommy is at my heels and stops in the entrance.
On our twin bed is a black bustier (abnormal, he does not custody particularly about dress, but for we’re role in performance). And with it there is a observe. The door closes behind me as I scan. The observe reads: “Shower, and dress in these clothes. Then pass the time here for your Master to complete you.”
My clothes approach off and are tossed in the picnic basket. My panties are already damp and the anticipation is structure. I run the fill up in the shower, burning, hot – steam rises as I tread in. Then a more deluxe tour of my front – my eyes slide go home for the day and my hands become his, slipping over my belly, lifting and cupping my breast, fingers teasing the nipples to powerfully points. Umm, feels so skilled. Taking the insincere gel for the “sensitive areas,” I slowly wash my pussy, scrutiny to see that no stubble mars its wash, slick surface. My fingers dance through the part, and suspect my clit hardening. “No, no. Mustn’t theatrical production now,” I weigh up. A breath of cool air then nothing when I gaze. I stride out and unavailable myself drying and count a body unguent that has flecks of mica in it to bump and reflect the luminosity. Besides it smells of sweet cranberry. I jump a barely, startled. He’s in black leather pants and a vest – I could bound his bones exact now, he looks so sexy!! Oops! It’s Master. I decline to the stump, hands behind my hips, heels up, knees unfold, eyes down. “What does my Master fancy?” I pose.
“Arise and approach to me,” his master’s tone. I walk toward him unhurriedly, letting my weight settle on each crutch, shifting the hip outer in a gentle rock. I stand before him, begging his touch. My nipples harden as I deem of how his hands believe.
“Put your hands upon your head and turn around unhurriedly,” he says. It’s always a difficult maneuver so that one does not end looking clumsy and pigeon toed. I emerge on tip toes, angry my feet at the ankles, and leisurely unwind before him. My hands on my cranium leave breasts incisive directly at him. They’re commencement to ache.
“Have you washed, thoroughly?”
“Yes, Master,” I retort.
“Everywhere?”
“Yes, Master,” I sulk. I feel a flush creeping down my collar. I would give anything to atmosphere his touch, his tongue, his lips on that skin.
Facing him, his eyes demolish me. I marvel at this delight that he is. His offer moves to my breast, lifting it, stroking one then the other. I shiver, inhale and arch my back into the drop of his hands. It is a reaction beyond wonderful. That contact that joins us is now the focal point of my being. He taps the nipple lightly. I gasp. My clit is tricky, I can significance it between my hindmost lips, pushing for thought.
His hand slides, barely sad, over my side to my hip and then to my mons. He knows my excitement, my lust. I gasp again. My hips press forward onto his employee. Begging this taunt to progress to more, more. I feel the moisture of my plea moving under his fingers, painting me. A moan issues unbidden from my throat. His finger parts my lips and catches at the notch .... I call for him. My knees bend to encourage his entry, my chest is red with excitement and need for him. But he is still. Completely still. Then withdraws his hand.
“Soon,” he says. “Put on the bustier now.”
I reach across him, virtually dragging my nipple across his lips. And he doesn’t take my inducement. Damn! I bulge the black lingerie around me and change my breasts on its sill.
“You may squeeze your nipples now,” he smiles.
My hands slide in soft touch up the further than of the forceful garment, the blunted touch tickling and wit until my hands prize the weight and finger and thumb extent to tug and twist the sensitive tips. “Mmmmm,” rumbles in my throat. My hands slide back down to approach and tease again, each trail making my mind race, and breathing accelerate, culminating in a gasp as the pinch-pull sends the joggle of pleasure through my bulk.
“Show me how wet you are,” he interrupts my reverie.
“Now,” I believe, “now I’ll have him.” My hands slide down and part my lips. Our mirror is behind him, so I see what he sees – burgundy flesh, slick and wet, radiant on the tops of my thighs. He stands and I hold my breath ....... now.
He hands me a restriction and collar. They are not mine. I look at him and question what they are for, without speaking a word.
“Follow me, Ann. He opens the door.
Before me is a luscious creature, whose name I learn is Lynn. She is delicate, just about four inches shorter than I and minor boned. Her eyes are murky pools, even in the luminosity as she looks at me. Her facial hair is a gloomy bay, nearly black, complimenting her bottle green skin. She has the beauty of fresh Italian women. I appearance at him, smiling.
“Lynn is yours to do with as you want. She is your slut slave for whatever you desire from her. Enjoy yourself.”
The set alight on her skin drags my eyes back to her. He settles into the comfort of the trouble-free chair and is silent. I can almost suspect his eyes on me, on Lynn. She has finicky breasts that will ready to go in my hands, the nipples are portly and prominent. They stomach out, highlighted from above and casting dark down her tummy. She wears wrist and ankle manacles. Her mons is charming shaven like mine. And she is apparently excited, as the lips are distended and reddened. Moisture tickles at the edges and across the tops of her thighs. She is lovely.
I seem at him and grin my thanks. My Supernatural Being!
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