“Not very appealing is it? Fuck me! You may be a slut in here, Gemma, but I have some self-respect. Try again. Ask me.”
He perched back on the divan and inspected his fingernails as if they were the most important thing in his world. Somehow the make-me-wait approach made him incredible sexy and so, so dominant. Me, lying there gaping was not inviting enough for him, he wanted me to beg. I had the sensation I was dripping down between my bum crack.
“Please, sir. Use your pussy for your pleasure. Please put your lovely cock deep inside me,” I practically wailed red faced.
“Why should I?”
Oh shit, come on, Jason! Were the words in my head. What I actually said was different. “I’m yours, sir. Utterly and unconditionally yours,” I surrendered. If that did not do it for him, I wondered what else I could possibly say to convince him.
At long last, I was being fucked and boy, it had been worth the wait. The strung up position, being able to see his face as he went about his business and hearing his grunts of exertion. I adored the rough sex and knowing he loved me made it so special.
“Oh God, please, please, may I come for you, sir.”
“No.”
What!? After all the waiting, he made me hold it. I sobbed at him for relief.
“Shut up!” he said harshly.
I stopped asking and remembered I had given up my body unconditionally. I focused all my efforts on not coming and not disappointing him with my lack of concentration.
He held off his ejaculation for what seemed like an eternity. Changing pace and depth, he slid me back and forth across the table, using the spreader bar like a swing. In the end, he hoisted me fraction
ally higher and I was completely suspended when he achieved his climax.
It felt like forever to untie me. I stretched out on the bed while he bundled the ropes up and stored them away. Coming over to me, he had the Hitachi wand in his hand. My favourite vibrating massager and sex toy. He grinned at me and I looked at him imploring.
“Oh thank you, sir.”
A few minutes later, I was given my long awaited orgasm. I was very loud and thrashing about. Then I curled up and clutched my twitching tender parts.
I thought that was it. He was not finished though. Pain play was over, but I had made a stupid statement about unconditionally being his and he pointed this out to me as I stirred on the bed.
“So let’s see how many orgasms I can force out of you, my little subbie. I want loads.” He switched the Hitachi back on.
I gasped out loud and attempted to crawl off the bed. He grabbed my ankle and dragged me towards him.
“Oh no you don’t,” he laughed.
It was a futile gesture and resistance was not my true intention. I wanted those orgasms. I wanted him to control each and every one of them. I wanted to beg him to stop and have him ignore me. I wanted to cry with the intensity of having my throbbing clitoris come at his touch. I wanted him in charge of my body. I wanted to submit because then I would be showing him my love and that I was truly his.
Sitting astride, facing my feet he had forced multiple orgasms on me without mercy. Five orgasms later, he released me.
The morning light arrived in the master bedroom and I started to wake up. Jason was not in bed as he was bringing up coffee and toasted muffins. I snuggled back under the duvet and gently flexed by legs. My groin ached from the spreader. I touched my sex; it was still very sensitive and delicate to the touch. Well used from two hard fucks and numerous orgasms. My back and bottom had a residual heat to the skin. I could have lit a match off my bum last night following the flogging. All of these leftovers made me smile with glee. I loved my temporary marks, my aches and soreness. They were all signs of his presence on me. He had been so sweet to me in bed after he had washed me down. Complimenting my endurance, he had spooned about me and he said he was pleased with my devotion to him. I felt so good. ‘Devotion’ was an excellent accolade to pay a submissive.
The aroma of coffee was working and my eyes were less bleary.
“Gemma, your passport, it’s not due to expire is it?” he asked abruptly.
I rolled over to face him. He was sitting up in bed with his ever present laptop.
“What? My passport?” The question was completely out of the blue. “Jason, I don’t have a passport.”
The look on his face was a picture. I did not think I had seen Jason look so surprised.
“You don’t have a passport?” he reiterated deliberately. “What never had or it has expired?”
“Never,” I blushed. Being without a passport had not been much of an issue for me. “My mum is terrified of flying hence no family holidays abroad. We went to the same familiar seaside resorts every year. I haven’t been able to go abroad since being a student. Paying off student loans has limited my savings.” I shrugged my shoulders. Explanation done.