Sunday, 19 February 2012

Brief news

Just wanted to pop in and say I haven't gone anywhere, and also thank those who commented and made my welcome back so nice.  I'm not sure I want to tell more about Sir and why and how we went our separate ways.

I'm feeling much better these days, met a lot of nice people of both sex, brethed new life into old friendships, and if I still crave to be toyed I now enjoy sex without necessarily a kink facet.

Leave me a few days (or weeks... I'm a bit lazy) and I'll tell you a bit more about my new life and my awesome friends.

Kiss you all


Tuesday, 10 January 2012

You don't own me anymore...

Really? Not blogged for that long? I know (sigh). Not Twitted either since October. But my many wounds had to heal. I'm sitting in bed, laptop on lap, lazing about with the tin of Quality Street where I get to choose my favourite. I feel better, much better now. Maybe it's time to do hair and makeup, must try to look attractive, no, no, must BE attractive, will squeeze my ass into a short tight skirt and my tits in a low cut bra under a sleeveless silk halter style sweater with v-plunging neckline.  Alluring. But, before, I want to enjoy the savoury of a sudden impulse, I must visit my blog. First time in six months!

Again, in a repeated body action recently acquired, I'm combing my hair with my fingers. It is true that with time a broken hart will heal itself, but I have been through hell. When you are filled with sadness, pain, resentment and emptiness you either blog and tweet like mad, trying to lick your injuries, they are just too big, and share with friends to get bits of comfort, warmth and affection... or you run into hiding, break from the world, hibernate, not responding to texts or calls and shy to even read your mails. I was so depressed and I holed up. I know, by shutting out the world I surely made it all last longer, but couldn't help. Blog and Twitter, Fetlife, social media at large were too closely linked to Master.

OMFG to have any idea of what I've been through you must spend at least one year dating a cold-hearted bastard who was so perfect abroad, you were confident he was caring for you as much as you loved him, and find out that back in England he is not only cheating on you but also in a way pimping you! My life was so full with Master who introduced me to D/s, I was ready to believe anything from him, yes I did love him and I followed in such incredible situations and predicaments... I am a bimbo, a witless cunt! In a way he was right with his frequent derogatory remarks

 I thought I was dying when I just realized how screwed I was, when I grasped the naked truth. The understanding enables us to see immediately when it's enough so I had to break immediately and run away. Which I did, destroyed and empty. I was at a total loss without him but I had to go. Why do I call him Master or Sir now? You don't own me anymore, I am not your property anymore, Sir. It is your fault, not mine, you know it. You deceived me. But I still feel bad when I call you by your given name, G... I should, you are no more than a jerk, a manipulative bastard, but I can't. It's so ... stilted, Sir.

You don't own me anymore, Sir. While writing that, I do not cry, not any longer, but my eyes are still wet. I don't cry so often now. I am ok now. Yes, I am ok, though I miss so much your voice saying "good girl".

When I ran away from Master's new house, I was still jobless if I had some savings, and my parents told me to come over in the South and stay as long as I wanted with them. So sweet. They even avoided giving their views on my life, and all my family around was so nice faced with my difficult times.

I have left them now, got some good contacts to try and get a decent job and start building up a new life. I am not owned anymore. The slave must learn from her mistakes, grow and do better. One of many, the story of an online close friend (hugs, Christine) helped me a lot through my "mourning", as she went through a similar trouble and she showed herself so strong.

I certainly owe you the story of how we got there. Next post.



Monday, 1 August 2011

Celebration weekend (3) - How it went on Saturday

I know, my friends, you must think I've been lazy:  I've been off my blog for so long and I've not even completed the continuation of my celebration weekend.  In fact, Master has the greater part of the responsibility if I admit that during the very rare moments I am not used by Him or else, or working (not only in my office, I'm also the house slave and His PA), or shopping,  I have a tendency to loaf around, relax and rest. 

I am writing because it is one of my tasks.  Do I enjoy it?  If I'm used to it now I'm not sure I'm fully pleased to tell the world what slut Master made out of me.  But I know Master likes it and thinks it's good for me.  And as I love nothing more than to please Master, the wheel comes full circle: I love blogging, for Him.

The true story of these recent weeks - or months - of silence is that Master sort of upgraded my training, kept me more occupied, with new tasks, and for a change He was more interested in my service and my progress than to see me with my laptop writing in journal.  As above all my primary focus is to please Master, hoping that He finds me pleasing in all that I do, I tend to focus on His immediate demands...

I loved the hard sex of that blessed weekend, immensely.  

Now I know Master cares for it, I'll be back soon with my story.

Kiss you all


Saturday, 19 March 2011

Celebration weekend (2) - Still Friday night...

I was still seated in the sofa, skirt up and thighs open, absent minded, gently rubbing my pussy, trying to recover from that explosive orgasm, when Master woke me up from my dream, ordering I get up and strip down to my stockings and heels. He wanted to have dinner now, and His slut naked at the table.

I fetched in the kitchen the succulent dish Master bought at the delicatessen store, cold lobster surrounded by different salads and eggs. I love egg mayonnaise, in particular “oeufs mimosa,” one of the best find of French (basic) cuisine:  – you hard boil an egg, remove the yolk and mix it with mayonnaise, herbs, salt and pepper, then return it to the egg white. Delicious! Master opened a wonderful bottle of French white wine and I truly believe it was the best meal I have had in my entire life. While eating and chatting, I was thinking of that past year with Master, how I made my way and how much He changed me. That dinner, for instance: I was sitting naked at the table in front of a man, my tits pointing over my plate, nipples hard and erected because I was still horny, while He was dressed with slim fit cotton trousers and a pinpoint Oxford shirt, His usual weekend attire. And the shy girl I was last year, which would have been blushing and bashful, was now nearly relaxed. I knew of course it was because Sir was my Master, and because I had now fully assimilated that I was owned and His object.

“Sir, thanks to Your guidance, I look at myself as a much better person than what I was,” I said cheerfully with an elate face. “You're not in the habit of drinking wine,” Master answered. “No, I mean it, Sir. All that I have gone through has enabled me and forced me to take a look at myself and I have become a much better person because of You.”

Before the dessert, a cake and chocolate mousse, Master stand up, lit a cigar (He seldom smokes, sometimes a big cigar) and came near me, blowing a cloud of smoke into my face. He touched one of my knees and instinctively I opened my legs. Inserting a finger into my pussy, He said, smiling, “Good girl, you're still all wet and ready. While I smoke, get the first part of your dessert on your knees, you little British whore.” He sat back, while I went quickly on all fours in front of His chair, not forgetting to say “Thank you Sir!”

When I unzipped His pants, I felt He was hard. I'm always happy when Master gets a boner, it means I turn Him on because I am the right slut. Carefully I took his cock out and into my mouth and started to swirl my tongue around the head. While I was licking and kissing softly, hands on my buttocks as He taught me, He reached down and fingered my tits and pinched my nipples hard. Pleasure and pain! How I loved it now! Trying to forget my nipples, I concentrated on His shaft when I noticed that my mouth, painted brightly red, was smearing some lipstick on my Master's wet cock...

“I ordered you to suck me, slut, not to paint my cock." I stopped sucking at this instant, just holding my pussy's best friend in my mouth, and raised my eyes but happily He was laughing, so I started swirling my tongue around the head again, alternating with slides all the way down my throat. I was making it a quiet, teasing, promising beginning. After a short time, Master grabbed a fistful of my hair and twisted slightly, lifting my head from His crotch and making me cry out. I was thrilled. I just love to have my hair pulled.

Master then grabbed my nipples and began again to tug on them, twisting and pulling just hard enough to hurt, but not so hard that it didn't make me gasp with arousal. I arched my back, trying to relieve the pressure on my poor breasts, but He just pulled harder, pinching my aching little nubs. “Great tits.” He sighed, and slapped one of them, hard. It bounced and swayed from side to side, and He did it again with the other one. “Oh yeah, I like that!” He said, and proceeded to spank my breasts, making them bounce and shudder painfully. I cried out at each impact, the skin on my breasts turning a brilliant red and my nipples swelling and hardening. He noticed this and began to aim His blows for those abused, red peaks, making me yelp every time He connected. Very soon my breasts were bright red and very sensitive, and He once again grabbed my nipples and twisted. I began to cry and He let go of my painful nubs.

Despite myself I found I was getting turned on again, soaking wet and leaking, and when He slipped one finger into my pussy I moaned and pushed back on it. He stroked his finger in and out a few times before returning to sponging me down, and I whimpered in frustration. “Patience,” He said, “You get to come if and when I allow it.”

“Tonight we're one on one. Tomorrow is another day, I have two very hungry friends coming over from England, you don't know them yet but you'll tell me on Sunday night whether I was right when I told you this weekend would be special and you will forever remember it. Now come in the dungeon, I want to use your cunt.” The 'dungeon' is a spare bedroom, a guestroom in fact, with a specially equipped bed, not noticeable if not in use. I rushed in that bedroom and climbed on the bed while Master undressed, and He joined me saying, “You know you must always suck the cock that fucks you. Clean it with your mouth to show your appreciation for the owner using your slutty body.” I reached for a kleenex to wipe my lipstick away before sucking again the cock I loved.

When the shaft was shining clean and iron hard and all wet, I lied down flat on the bed, facing up, and Master tied my hands onto the headboard, attaching my wrist cuffs to the restraint hoops of the corners. He pulled my legs straight out to my sides, splitting me as far open as my body allows and then secured my ankles and thighs to the bed sides, sliding a pillow under my hips to lift my buttocks. He stood back for an instant and walked around me, enjoying the view. He then opened a drawer of the night table and reached for a buttplug. I knew He really wanted to please me that day as He dripped lube onto my asshole and rubbed it in, before quickly shoving the plug in in one shot, still I gasped for breath. I heard His pleasure in His laugh as He quieted me down with His hands, rubbing my crevasse and butt.

Then Master positioned himself over me and started fingering my holes and my clit. Pressed between the bed and His weight, and tied down, my only release was through my voice, which turned Him on more. Then slowly, so slowly, He entered me, taking His time. I don't know how long He took, and I wasn't caring. I moaned loudly while He was taking His time that way to sinking deep into my flesh. He paused a moment smiling at how I squirmed against him with need. Then He fucked me. He stroked into me slowly, over and over again, kissing me deeply. When either of us came close to going over the edge He would pull away and change positions, then start again.

I was mad on how He pressed into me with His heavy thickness. I was pulling hard on my bondage and when I started to be unable to hold my moans He gave me his hand to muffle me. He leant close to my ear and whispered, “Cum for me.” I clenched tight around Him and threw my head back, moaning uncontrollably, my pussy spasmed, clutching His member, orgasming so hard around His throbbing cock. “Good girl” He whispered as I panted under Him. I knew that at the same time He also cummed deep into my cunt, filling my womb. When He pulled free of me, I felt the dribble of His cum run down my thighs.

Later on, we came back at the table and ate the dessert. That chocolate was a dream as the whole evening. I was allowed plenty thanks to our celebration, but also because Master warned me: “Tomorrow morning, no food but an enema. Asshole must be clean and ready for our guests.”


(To be continued)

Friday, 4 March 2011

Celebration weekend (1) - Friday night

For the first anniversary of my new status of His Sub / Owned Slut, Master treated me extra special and organised a hip and exciting weekend, weird and cool... It had to be hot, it had to be all about love, and sex, and bdsm, it had to highlight I was “beloved” and cherished and at the same time I was His slave with no other purpose in life than to serve, obey and please Him. Master Sir, so kindly and sweetly, wanted my pleasure to be the thread of that two days, aware that it would be the resultant of bits of romantic gentle sex mixed with bits of humiliation and lewd whoring. He knows all of me, and He is now familiar with the deep pleasure that eventually flows through my body and my whole being when I am sexually assaulted, humiliated and degraded. It is feared and craved at the same time, I can't explain. Pain is just same for me, I don't want it and I love it...

As promised, and as requested by Master, I will tell you all what happened during these three days. These stories will be spread over several blogposts to make the entries shorter.

When I came back from work on Friday evening, a bunch of red roses was waiting for me. Before I could kneel down in the entrance and reach for His cock to kiss it (my ordinary protocol to say “Hello,” I just love it!) He hugged me and started a slow and passionate kiss. So cool and so hot at the same time. You can't imagine how pleasurable the simple act of passionate kissing can be to me. Kissing Master activates my senses and sets me on fire. He knows how to tease me, and fills me to the brim with the desire of wanting Him. The very act of kissing alone can bring me at the edge of an orgasm if done correctly, and Master's kissing is always so perfect...

A fab meal and a creamy cake for dessert were waiting for us (He knows I prefer sweets things to savouries if I must do often without as I have to watch myself), but before to go for dinner He took me to the candle-lit sitting room where a bottle of French champagne was cooling in the ice bucket. While we were drinking and kissing, laughing and just enjoying one another's company, He ordered I get my panties down. I was dressed in my usual office style, I mean how Master wants me everyday at work, with a sexy, light blue curve-defining cami with deep scoop neck and open cup shelf-bra perfect for a lot of cleavage, very short red seamed pencil skirt, and of course fully-fashioned, Cuban heeled nude sheer stockings with backseam and welt top. Master buys them for me, they are so expensive, and I love them, not for that but because they are luxuriously soft and silky to wear, and with stiletto heels my legs look so great. Stockings are my favourite part of lingerie. They give a woman power and sex appeal.

I have thus two reasons to wear stockings, firstly because Master orders it, and secondly to make my legs look gorgeous. In addition to the sexy shimmering look, the fact that you’re wearing them for no other reason than to be sexy… makes them sexy!  Garter belts, sheer panties and stockings tend to frame and lead men’s gaze to the ultimate goal of female private parts. Always more exciting when partially covered and decorated. Look at yourself naked and then wearing lingerie. Which is more enticing? And the attitude required to wear lingerie well is, to most males, irresistible. I knew that too well before being owned by Master, but it is clear than Master is like all the males from that angle. More, perhaps. He has clearly a stocking and garterbelt fetish (I mentioned that before) and He requires that I wear them at all times unless otherwise given permission.

I pulled my panties off as Master asked. I slid them down very easily as I always wear them over the garter belt. That way they can conveniently and quickly be removed, and at the same time it helps nylons to stay in place by drawing the garters tight, particularly when seated. While uncovering my girlie bits under my skirt, I was wondering whether that time, for once, Master would want me fully naked to play and I was ready to remove teasingly my clothing in the most seductive and sexy way...

Nah! I was forgetting once again that I am not His wife or His significant other, but His sub and sex toy if He truly loves me. “No, not now, Slut. First, lift your skirt up to your waist and bend over legs apart. Before pleasure for everybody I must start our celebration weekend by reminding you who you are.” Master picked up the riding crop, said “You'll get twenty, it's a number I like,” to what the good girl I am – forcing a smile - obediently responded “Thank you Sir,” and He slowly started to lash my bare ass and my thighs, harder each time. Holding the back of a chair, I counted out loud as I have been taught, while thanking Master and trying not to cry. I was finding the stings of the crop almost unbearable (He wasn't holding back), my ass was burning red, I was convinced Master was the worst torturer ever, I had tears in my eyes (hoping mascara will not equal a river of black streaks down my cheeks by the end of the predicament), though my clit was engorged, my cunt was dripping, and I was having thrills running through my spine.

When the cropping was over, my butts were burning and my pussy was all wet and I had juices leaking along my thighs. I was burning outside and so hot inside. Master ordered, “Keep your skirt up and sit on the edge of the sofa, legs wide spread.” So I did. “Tell me who you are.” “I am a slut, Sir, your cumslut.” Yes you are slut, but you're also a whore. Friends of mine are coming tomorrow and you'll show all of us what a good whore you can be.” Hot and cold, to testing my submission. I knew He had planned a busy weekend. While talking, Master was bending over my naked crotch and wet pussy framed by my stockings and garter belt. “I'm going to make you cum, slut!”

Yummy! Master now wanted to pleasure me, and He knows so well how to give me the utmost sexual satisfaction. He showed me that Friday night again what an expert He was in using all my delicate and responsive spots, vulva and clitoris with His tongue and mouth, and my G-spot and even my anal opening with His fingers. He started by caressing my legs while working His way towards my inner thighs, and then He touched my outer vaginal lips before making contact with the area just above my clitoris. I was moaning and panting. Using His tongue, He made some sweeping motions on my labia without going straight for the clitoris because He knows this is my highly sensitive area. He played around my cunt using His mouth and tongue, sensitive to my moans and responses as evidenced by His knowledge of which move in particular had an earth-shattering effect. I was jiggling and my orgasm was building up.

Master felt it, he spread out my pussy lips and His tongue took literally a dive into my cunt, while His middle finger was stimulating my G-spot. I was mad. When He zeroed onto my clit, my hips were digging into His face, my gasping became sharper, my moaning higher pitched. Suddenly I screamed, my vagina tightened up and suddenly went lax – I was having one of the longest and strongest mind-blowing orgasm of my life.

This was only the beginning of the party. More to follow.


Friday, 11 February 2011

First anniversary!

“So much happen every week in your life, yet you have not blogged for ages you lazy slut” Master said with a disturbing grin. Fortunately He had some paperwork to do, and I immediately reached my laptop in case He would change His mind and teach me with His riding crop how to keeping more or less on schedule with tasks. I love to be His pain slut for the express purpose of His sexual pleasure (and mine as a happy result) but way less when the purpose is to punish me. Difficult to explain, but pain is painful in that situation.

True, there is a lot to say. Master’s right as always… First of all, we celebrate this month my first full year of submission. If you had a look through some early entries of this blog, you would remember that I first met Him just before Xmas 2009, we had sex for the first time in January 2010, and He really sort of started collaring me the following month, in February. Twelve month ago! I make a difference between January and February, because in January I realised He was my Prince Charming, all I had ever dreamed about, and we had mad sex but nothing so different in that respect from what I experienced with many of my previous partners (though I found His authority and control was overwhelming…) when in Feb I knew I’d do anything for Him, He was then fully controlling everything of me, He started to train me and teach me protocols, and as an aside I got my first punishment. I was in love from scratch but I date from that later moment my true debut as a sub, His owned slut.

When I met Master, I had no idea of what I was going to become if my inner dream was to serve a man I would love. I have served many “partners” in my short life, at least sexually, but it was not that kind of relationship. And maybe I was not that much in love. I thought I was “submissive” simply because I never said “no” to a man. Mostly it was about sex and nothing was off limits: the guys were happy as you can imagine, and I confess I was, as well. But aside from hard sex they were ordinary males, hedonist and selfish. Before Him (Sorry, I am not authorised to write His given name…), I never crossed a real Master. What is a Master? It’s all about deep understanding, control, love, a special need for exchange, strong will to improve the slave, to drive her and to make her constantly progressing. And, from the slave viewpoint, as I read somewhere “it’s all about obedience. The need for it, the direction that comes from it, the self esteem and pride that result from forming a habit of obedience. Obedience is the heartbeat of slavery. Obedience is the primal tone of evolution for those of us for whom D/s is the only authentic path to our growth, destiny and happiness. Obedience is exchanged for responsibility.

Am I His sub or His slave? I don’t really make the difference, which is after all whatever people in the relationship feel that it is. In other words, with Master, I am without limits, totally under His control, and when I reflect about it I don’t even consider myself to be His submissive or His slave. Quite simply, I am His property.

No doubt I was in need of a Master. But not any Master. Him.

This blog, again, is born from Master’s wish that I write about my new life, my experiences and my feelings. Quite a few readers kindly message me that they like my writing, which is of course a great inducement. I was recently asked, “Is that blog based on reality or a fantasy you have?” I first smiled (Master too…), then on reflexion I thought useful to mention publicly here that there is no fantasy at all I'm afraid, only my thoughts, my feelings and glimpses of my life with Him. Master wanted me to document my life with Him, that’s all. If sex, often kink sex, is very important in our life, it is a fact.

I have never been ashamed of my sexuality and always done my best to pleasure the man I was with. I know actions must speak louder than words and – shyness apart, bus as a shy girl I can be very provocative – I always acted in a way guys could easily tell the difference. I wonder why average girls (like me) fail sometimes when it is so elementary… Bitching is more than teasing. I am a born whore, an instance from some years ago comes to my mind. One evening I was driven home by a sexy guy I just wanted but who was not giving evidence he intended to spend the rest of the evening with me. To make him reconsider while we were cruising (of course he was driving), I bent over his groin and without a word I unzipped his fly, took his full equipment out, and started one of the best blowjob of my track record. Have you ever heard of a male ordering “Stop it!” in that situation? It may exist, but that one didn’t say a word and let me hot and moist work scrupulously his amazing cock while thinking “Happy not to have missed that one.” Whatever his former plans (poor other girl), my new fuck buddy took me with him for the night. He may have had many regrets in life, but I was not one of them.

In summary, since males started taking interest in me I have built up a slutty tendency which grew naturally as it turned out a success in any circumstances. Easy successes, I agree. I simply wish to explain why I found normal from the beginning that Master was highly demanding in terms of sex, and I thought also totally normal that I should live up to his expectations and beyond.

Looking back I understand now that the seed of submission was planted long ago. I have never made any conscious choice, and I cannot recall exactly when I crossed the boundary line (if any such line exists?), it was progressive. I only know, now, that I will serve, obey and please my Master as He wishes. I must satisfy all of my Master’s needs and desires to the best of my abilities.

The fact is He knows me better than I do myself. He knows what I like and dislike, and, much better, He knows that before I do myself. We are alike and we complement each other. He needs me as well as I need him. But above all, I worship my Master and His power fills me with awe.

He also taught me how to be the perfect whore He wants, for His private pleasure at the beginning, and then He understood that I could also fulfil one of His dearest pleasures, to share me with His friends or even to have me serving strangers and being treated as a subby by those men.

Reluctantly at the beginning, and more freely now if I still fear it, I must admit I deeply enjoy to be abused, humiliated and degraded though I was and I am still emotionally disturbed with it. Not so much of accepting it willingly, the rules must be obeyed without question or hesitation at all times, and I am happy to satisfy all of my Master’s needs and desires to the best of my abilities. Yes, I am happy to please Master, and that turned me into a willing submissive slut longing for serving sexually.

A friend of mine wrote to me (I think I've arleady published it, but I like his words): “Your lack of enjoyment with vanilla sex is common with subs. You have learned that your pleasure must be earned and is not given freely. This is something most people do not understand. I’ve tried to explain M\s relationships to vanilla people before. It is usually a waste of my breath. I believe you have become so emotionally owned by your Master that anything he tells you to do be it humiliating or painful or just normal, turns you on because you are doing it for Him. To please Him To make Him Happy. I hope that makes sense.” It does makes sense, my friend.

Was I attracted to Master because He was a Dom, and my inner nature new it and wanted it? Maybe. I remain convinced that women are primarily "sexually" submissive. Now, the partner plays a huge role in this dynamic since it is mainly the psychological aspect of the interplay that opens a woman's mind to submission. Still, I will always believe that a woman always prefers a man/woman who can make her surrender!

Enough thinking about where I come from and where I am now. We had two celebration of our first full year together, one was private and awesome, and the second one last weekend was another story, full of cocks to serve. I have started writing both and will post them hopefully this Sunday.

Kiss you all


Friday, 7 January 2011

The New Year Task

Hi! It’s probably late for that, but I still want to wish a very Happy and Kinky New Year to you all, my depraved and arousing friends, sexy boys and slutty bitchy gals. In my hometown, the New Year party went way into the night and – hehe - I managed to complete the mission Master gave me. Must tell you how. Master was pleased, I felt it when I spoke to Him on the phone about midnight to wish Him (us?) a kinky New Year and tell Him everything was going right including my success in doing properly all what I was ordered so far.

Saturday was another special day, have to tell you about as well. And finally last Sunday my trip back home to Master got complicated for a number of reasons which made me land in northern France on Monday morning instead of Sunday night. My fault, apparently. However that may be Master made me pay for that as well as for my behaviour last Saturday, which I described as “excessive” and He called “bad”. It is fair. I deserve my punishments, I am happy to take them, all the more so since on balance they are providing me with a level pleasure that happen to prevail over physical pain and mental suffering from disgrace.

Er…! After a quick look over my shoulder through that beginning, Master whispered in my ear with His half mocking half cruel grin: “It’s quite natural, I’ve taught you to love the kiss of my cane on your butt cheeks and the hiss of my crop cracking on your skin. You love the pain and the burning because it’s my hand, my gift. Also, sweet cumslut, you have now learnt since you are collared how humiliation can turn you on, and what awesome pleasure fills you when degraded and used as a sextoy. Now, write! Tell everyone what you did and who you are, wanton sub.”

Sweet cumslut!” He called me “sweet cumslut”… I felt an electric shock and instantly wetted my panties. I looked up imploringly, but He was already walking away. Master really wants I post about my New Year experiences.

Here we are. If you remember, I was last Friday with my family on my native soil in southern England, far away from Master but happy after all if often missing a good, long and hard fucking and while I was also mad curious to know what exactly Master was doing of His time while I was away. Still not managed to know so far, but it’s another story. Well, He gave me as I told you a task not so easy to perform: I had in this narrow provincial city to give a blowjob to a guy, any man but a stranger. It had to be somebody I knew and, to make it difficult, Master added that man must know me equally, he must be a friend from our teens. A blowjob, without allowing him to fuck any of my other holes.

The New Year party was precisely organised by my brother and he and my sister cared to invite a quite a bunch of my old friends from schooldays. As far as I can remember, I had sex with many of them one time or the other. Was I relaxed? Not really, they knew I was living abroad with the man of my life (though not aware of our lifestyle) and they would presumably not expect me to flirt and hook them up, even if our past must have left so hot memories to many. I knew also they were all but one dating or actually fully fledged couples, so the strategy was bound to be simple: to avoid difficulties I had to flirt with the single one, Charlie, and unless I have dramatically changed I’ll get where I want to be.

Charlie! Not a problem, not really, but a tad of dislike that I must overcome… We’ve known each other for a long time, he was alone, he had presumably a cock, I simply must seize that unique opportunity to do what I was tasked. I was not alone to find him fat, boring and very unattractive in our teens, and neither me nor the other girls of the group ever had bodily experience with him. Too bad so sad, cry me a river Alexia, you don’t have a choice, you must suck him dry.

At the party, memories came rushing back to me too. We ate, we danced like mad, and our bright and shining eyes were showing we were remembering the past. I also knew many of the girls, mostly now significant other of my pals, and I was aware of their stories as well as they were of mine… I felt vulnerable and it reminded me an experience involving a number of friends here. Vulnerability is hottest when it isn’t forced. When it’s given willingly. When my friend and I in high school wanted to be “prostitutes” and got our guy friend to be our “pimp” - I think that was willingly given vulnerability. We gave ourselves to him, we asked him to hit us on days we didn’t make much money. We wanted to be whores. We wanted no choice but to have ten different boys shove their cocks in our mouths in the bathroom at lunch-time and call us dirty names, and then have to sit next to them in class. It didn’t last long, but we loved it. Vulnerability is a rush.

Tonight, the whore is out again, and for the first time since Master owns me, I will be whoring away without Him watching, but that is what He wanted and ordered. Dumpy dog-faced Charlie will get the surprise of his life when he’ll understand that he is the spotted prey of that sexy girl he never dreamt to do before. I started my approach. With the help of music and vodka he was all relaxed and easy going. I don’t drink and he didn’t notice my dopamine receptors were haywire from so much of what feels like the right kind of attention. We were now flirting intensely, Charlie and me, and I was only hoping nobody would notice it too much, but all the couples were hot and busy. I was doing a good job, Charlie was excited and horny, he started to stroke my thighs and play with my stocking tops and my suspenders, or a hand in my cleavage. My hand was grabbing his crotch, feeling the bulge in his pants. After a short while he was confident to be the charmer, the guy who knows how to talk to and get the ladies, and he whispered raucously in my ear: “Let’s go and fuck upstairs, I’m close to cum in my boxers!”

That was it, but I had still to manipulate him into a blowjob without fucking. We left the table and walked out, climbed the stairs and entered the first empty room we found as some were already in use.

Charlie was so aroused he immediately took his trousers off and ordered me to undress as well. I peeled off my blouse. Just do it. Master wants it, doesn’t He? I unclipped my bra and draped it over the back of a chair. Topless for Charlie who was already cupping my nipples in his coarse hands. Well... I did more for Master’s friends wearing less. Not a big deal. Just flesh. Reveal it, Expose it. You're used to it now. I unzipped my mini-skirt, pulled it down to my ankles and kicked it aside. My bottom tingled, I was a whore, wasn't I? Get ready to pleasure this man and do your best, whore, I told myself.

I kneeled if front of him and told him with humble doe eyes: “Charlie, we cannot fuck, please let me give you the blowjob of your life, I’m craving to suck you…” – “Ok then, I won’t ride you, suck my cock bitch, work it well!” Obediently I panted on the end of his penis and flicked my tongue frantically at his shaft. Occasionally I looked up at him to check how He was enjoying the slut. His behavior made me think he was certainly a regular customer of prostitutes. He grabbed one of my breasts and squeezed it firmly. He released it and slapped it. He tugged at my nipple, turned it expertly in his fingers. He placed his cock between my breasts and made me massage it there with my tits. I pressed my palms to the outside of my bust and rubbed them obediently into his shaft. The tip of his penis thrust and stabbed me at my throat. My nipples were extraordinarily hard, hot, swollen. What a disgrace. Why did I feel the need to obey him? But it felt so good to hold his throbbing penis between my breasts.

I do love giving blowjobs, even that night to that despicable and clumsy twat. How to explain? It was degrading, but again the humiliation turned me on and brought pleasure. One of the world's most satisfying things is kneeling on front of a man, taking his cock deep in your mouth, sucking, and looking up to see the most satisfied smile on his face. It’s such a simple act but gives such immense pleasure and it makes me really happy to know that I can be responsible for that.

He slapped my arse. It felt good. It felt awful. It felt wonderful. It felt horrible. I was a bitch whore slut cunt meat dog wasn’t I?

I was on my knees. A viscous liquid – his precum - was oozing from the opening at the tip of his penis. I lapped it. Then I took back again his swollen cock into my mouth and slurped over its length as he thrust it down my throat. God! I was deep-throating that man! And enjoying it… No - hating it… loathing him, loathing myself. “Drink it, bitch” my fuck-master barked at me, yanking my head viciously, forcing me to cry out. I opened my mouth wide for him, stuck my tongue out, waggled it greedily. I waited for him to shoot his splooge down my throat. “Don't swallow,” he instructed, between laboured breaths. “Take my cum in your mouth and keep it there. I want you to taste me.” He ejaculated over my face. I stuck out my tongue and received his semen appreciatively upon it. I pouted and smiled up at him. I swapped his cum backwards and forwards in my mouth, tasting him, as he had ordered. I held my mouth open so he could see his semen and know that I had obeyed him and not swallowed so far. He shook himself over me. I petted the tip of his penis with my tongue, taking off the last drops of his semen.

“Stop,” he commanded suddenly. “Alexia, fetch me your panties.” My nipples pointed out and up at him, my breasts were swollen and flushed with arousal. How shameful. I handed him my panties. He stuffed them in my mouth and rubbed them into the inside of my cheeks. Then he flicked them dispassionately into my bosom. “Put them on,” he said. He clicked his fingers, as if to say: “And hurry up.” I scooped them up and felt their wetness. I stood as I stepped into the panties and pulled them up around my sex. By the time I had finished adjusting the straps on my hips, wearing the sperm-soiled thong and swallowing the rest of the load he had blown in my mouth, he ordered “Turn around.” I turned. He stroked my ass. My buttocks tingled. “Wear my semen with pride,” he said, patting my bottom.

He took my chin firmly, forcing me to look up at him. “Good girl, I made you happy, you should thank me,” he wheezed. And I did. Except that I blurted “Thank you Sir!” Walking out, he asked “Why do you call me Sir?”