26th January 2011
The other night as I climbed the stairs to bed with my computer in my arms things took a little lurch, not me physically, more shall we say, in the behaviour department. As I settled into my bed for the night he pressed….
“Tell me Slutmine, don’t keep making me ask”
I can’t remember what it even was now, it was one of those moments when something had been playing on my mind, something silly and mundane in my mind, but which he could clearly sense was there. When pressed I declined to share, not because I had secrets but because, as I already said, I viewed it to be mundane and silly and why would I want to be bothering Him with that. It’s an error I have made time and time again. As he pointed out to me, if it’s on my mind he wants to hear about it, then He can judge for Himself if it is indeed ‘mundane and silly’ although He has never ever declared any of my thoughts as such. That’s not to say at times he has not shown me that my thoughts or more often than not fears are unfounded but never mundane or silly.
Sorry, I digress a little from my story. So, now I lay under the covers, but I am still not really sharing, brushing it off as nothing, trying to distract Him from His path. This is always a mistake, He can never be distracted, even at times when it seems he has been, he will always follow it up, come back to revisit a certain situation that was left unfinished and most often when I least expect it. On this evening I was digging myself a damn big hole, which was mad really as whatever had been on my mind can’t have been that bigger deal if I can’t now remember it…..although I am wondering if the memory loss could actually be due to what happened next.
Instead of laying in my warm cosy bed I am now bent over in front of Him, my knees curled up to my side, my arse exposed and the whip in my hand.
“You need reminding Slutmine, that when I ask you to tell me I expect you to tell me, I don’t like having to keep asking”
“Yes Sir” I whimper back “but Sir, it really was nothing….”
“Hush now Slut, you will only make it worse”
His words send a little shiver down my spine, or is that the evening chill of the room now that the heating has gone off?
I am not good with the whip, I can’t make it feel like he does, I guess my preservation instinct always holds me back somewhat and even when I do misjudge it and catch the back of my legs that little bit harder it’s just not the same. It doesn’t make me burn like it does when He does it, I doesn’t make me beg and cry and plead and moan, in fact, I usually find myself going quiet as I concentrate on the task, and hope that the marks he can see appearing on my skin are pleasing Him.
My answer to that question comes eventually when he tells me to turn around and spread my legs for him and push the handle of the whip into my pussy. He inquires if I am wet, but as my legs open he can see the moisture glistening there and he chuckles to Himself and mutters….
“Of course you are wet, you are always wet”
I was wet, the unexpected turn of events which had caught me off guard, the sting of the whip on my flesh and watching Him watching me had all served to make me very wet and now with the handle of the whip gliding in and out of my pussy the moisture really started flow but I wasn’t really aware of it, by now I was lost to the sensation, focusing on His voice, my mind painting a picture based on what my ears where hearing, the thought of what would have been the result of today’s error if had actually been here with me sent me quickly over the edge and he knew it, I didn’t even have to ask to cum, he knew when I was ready and growled the commend into my ear and as the orgasm washed over me so did my juices over the handle of the whip.
It took me a few moments to ‘come down’ but as my juices started to cool on my thighs I pulled out the whip from where it still lay and studied the handle, it was covered in creamy white girl cum, my creamy white girl cum, and slipping round onto my tummy I showed Him just what a dirty little cum slut I was, even for my own cum, and licked the handle clean, smearing it onto my lips and tongue. It was only afterwards when I looked up at Him grinning that he revealed he had taken a few pictures.
Ps…Once they were all lined up on my desktop and I ran my curser over those pictures trying to decide on the best one I realised that if I was very clever then maybe I might be able to use them all and create something a little different. The result is far from perfect but I hope you get the picture never the less.
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