To be honest, Sir, I don't remember a lot of it; by that time I was in some kind of trance, wanting nothing more than to do whatever You told me to do in the hope of pleasing You. I do remember my mouth and jaw working for several moments without a single sound coming forth while you continued to stare into my eyes.
Finally I managed a sort of hoarse whisper: "Pleeeeease..." You gave me the barest nod of encouragement as Your fingertip continued to circle and stroke my clitoris, now swollen to the point where it felt as if it might burst. I made some kind of incoherent shuddering, stuttering sounds, followed by another whisper, "Please... Please, Sir... Please..."
But I knew that wasn't nearly enough, not at all what You required of me. I tried to lick my dry, quivering lips, but my tongue was just as dry and no help at all. But You saw that I was struggling, Sir, and You leaned down and kissed me, probing my mouth with Your tongue and sharing Your moisture with me. But in exchange You also increased the pressure on my clit as well as the pace.
And then the floodgates opened: "Please fuck me, Sir!" I gasped as soon as You removed Your mouth from mine. "Fuck my pussy, fuck my fucking cunt, Sir! Oh god, Sir, I want your cock, Sir! Please, please fuck me with your cock, Sir! Fuck me like a little whore, Sir! I'm your fuck-toy, Sir! I'm your slut, I'm your...oh, shit! FUCK!"
This last was practically screamed as You shoved two fingers into my pussy and then began grinding on my clit with the heel of Your hand.
"PLEASE, Sir! Please, please, PLEASE FUCK ME, SIR! I'll do anything You want, Sir! I'll crawl for you, I'll kiss your feet...I'll kiss your ASS, Sir! I'll do anything! Ah, god! ANYTHING, Sir, just please, please FUCK ME!"
I know I carried on like that for quite a while longer, but frankly, Sir, I was no longer there so I have no idea what other pitiful, degrading things I may have babbled. There was nothing left of me but an overwhelming, aching need. Which was exactly what You wanted of me, wasn't it, Sir? To spend what seemed like an eternity kept helpless on the very edge of release and never allowed to reach it? To be completely at Your mercy and under Your control, Sir?
It must have been, because eventually You removed Your hand and stood, pausing just long enough to wipe your now-dripping fingers across my lips, allowing me to fall silent, aside from my open-mouthed panting.
Even in my state of mindless need I loved watching You take off Your clothes, Sir, as You did without once removing Your gaze from mine as Your clothing dropped to the floor. I know I groaned out loud as You took Your magnificent, hard cock in Your hand and began to stroke it as You continued to look down at me. I wanted You to come all over me. I wanted You to fuck me until I passed out.
Both of which You did, Sir.
I know I should have begged Your permission to come, Sir, but I'm sure You know that I had absolutely no choice in the matter: just seeing You, now kneeling between my legs and resting your weight on one hand as You used the other to guide Your cock into me would have been enough, but to feel You suddenly plunge into me as You shoved Your hands under my shoulders and took possession of me, was far more than I could withstand.
I know I screamed and thrashed beneath You at Your first thrust, Sir. Oh god, I came so hard, Sir. And then again less than a minute later as You continued to fuck me, Your face practically touching mine, Your eyes boring into mine as if You were taking possession of not just my body but my entire being.
And the first time You came, several minutes later, was another form of possession as You suddenly withdrew, sat up and, stroking Your cock, now slick with my juices, groaned softly as You shot Your cum onto my face and into my open, gasping mouth, as well as onto my chest and my tits. Oh, Sir, the taste of Your cum for the second time that night; the smell and feel of it raining down on me! I came a third time and convulsed as I did so. I felt my eyes rolling up into my head...
And then nothing.
When I regained consciousness there was a brief moment when I thought it had all been some kind of intense, erotic dream and that I had come in my sleep. It wasn't until I yawned and tried to turn over - perhaps with the thought of returning to my dream before it faded away - and discovered that I couldn't move, that it all became real for me once more.
My eyes flew open. The candle was still burning and it seemed to me was only a little shorter than it had been, though of course I hadn't been paying any attention.
And You were gone, Sir.
I experienced a brief moment of panic, but then I heard Your footsteps on the stairs and was surprised by the huge sigh of relief that escaped me. Though I must admit, Sir, that my relief was tinged with just a touch of anxiety: what might You decide to do with me next? Had you gone to retrieve something else? A whip or flogger of some kind, perhaps?
I mentally braced myself as You came through the door, Sir. I wasn't at all sure that I could take any more - though I found that the fact that I really didn't have any choice in the matter made me absurdly happy.
You were holding something in each hand, Sir, and I peered through the darkness, trying to make out what they might be. Something metallic glinted in the candlelight...
It wasn't until You sat down on the bed again that I realized what it was: a silver fork, resting beside an enormous slice of chocolate cake on a dish. And in Your other hand, a glass of milk.
You placed everything on the bedside table for a moment while You slipped an arm beneath my shoulders and lifted me just long enough to slide in an extra pillow, allowing me to sit up at least part way. Then You held my head up just a little further with one hand as you retrieved the glass of milk and held it to my lips with the other.
I suddenly realized that I was parched and I drank greedily, nearly draining the glass and looking gratefully into Your eyes as You smiled down at me.
And then You fed me cake, Sir: wonderful, glorious chocolate cake with gooey chocolate frosting that must have been half an inch thick. You took a few bites for Yourself while I was chewing and swallowing, and we ate in complete, blissful silence. Once in a while You would use the edge of Your finger to scoop some of Your cum off of my face and tits and allow me to suck Your finger clean.
In the past, when I had daydreamed about what a perfect moment might be - making a huge sale, receiving some kind of award from the Realtors Association - my fantasies had never included being tied, naked and spread-eagled, to someone's bed, covered in cum after being teased and humiliated and fucked until I passed out...and then being lovingly fed chocolate cake with a side order of cum.
But it was, Sir. It really was perfect, and I had never felt so content or so cared for.
When the cake was gone, and when I had swallowed a few last drops of Your cum, followed by what was left of the milk, I smiled up at You and managed to whisper, "Thank You, Sir. Thank You so much."
You gently lowered my head to the pillows and, stroking my hair as you looked lovingly down at me, replied, "You're very welcome, Nadine. How are you feeling?"
"Very happy, Sir." And then my bladder sent me an urgent message and I went on, "But I really, really need to pee, Sir."
"Ah. Yes, of course."
You quickly untied me and then, when I discovered that I was unable to summon the strength to stand, helped me to my feet and half walked, half carried me to the bathroom and gently lowered me onto the toilet seat.
Then You left, closing the door behind You, and for some reason this struck me as so funny that I had to cover my mouth to suppress my giggles: after everything we had done that evening, You thought it was important to respect my modesty by allowing me to use the toilet in private. Oh, Sir.
When I was done I managed to stand up on my own. I assumed You were waiting right outside to offer assistance if I needed it, but I decided to surprise You, Sir. After flushing the toilet I opened the door and then I walked right past You. I returned to the bed, lay down on my back and deliberately positioned myself as I had been, spreadeagled like a starfish. And then, as an afterthought, I sat up and rummaged around until I found my panties, stuffed them back into my mouth and returned to my position.
I couldn't really see You, as You were still across the room, but I was confident that I had pleased You and maybe even made You proud of me. I wanted You to know that I was Yours, Sir. Fully and completely Yours.
You disappeared into the bathroom, and I assumed you needed to go as well. I heard the toilet flush again and then you reappeared. After a moment You approached the bed and I anticipated the feel of the ropes around my wrists and ankles again. But instead You reached down and gently cleaned my face and chest with the warm washcloth You had brought from the bathroom, removing the panties from my mouth as you did so and hanging them back on the bedpost.. Then, tossing the washcloth onto the other bedpost, You slipped Your arms under me and lifted me to the far side of the bed before lying down next to me and taking me in Your arms, pulling the covers up over both of us..
"I think you've had quite enough excitement for one night, young lady," You said softly, kissing my forehead and snuggling me into Your shoulder.
"Yes, Sir," I whispered, snuggling closer, and You must have been right because I fell asleep within seconds.
When I woke again the candle had burned out and the clock on the bedside table showed that it was very late...or very early, depending.
You were sound asleep. And I, astonishingly, was horny.
I couldn't believe it, Sir. After everything we'd done. You had changed me, Sir, to the extent that simply being near You made me wet.
I briefly considered waking You, but I didn't really want to disturb Your sleep. Still, going back to sleep myself didn't seem to be an option. I was still nestled into Your shoulder but my free hand was resting on Your chest under the covers, my fingers enmeshed with the curly hairs there. Watching You closely and holding my breath, I slowly, very slowly, allowed my hand to drift downward until it brushed against Your cock. You made a little "Uh" sound but otherwise remained sound asleep.
Thus emboldened, I began to stroke it, ever so lightly, with the tip of my middle finger...and was thrilled to feel it responding to my touch, beginning to grow and stiffen. I added my index finger, watching You closely for any reaction. You took a deep breath, filling Your chest, and then let it out with a long, sighing, "Mmmmmm...", but again You didn't wake.
Throwing caution to the winds, I lifted the covers out of the way and then encircled Your now fully hard cock with my hand. Then, raising my head from Your shoulder as slowly as possible, I scootched downward. Did I dare?
Have I mentioned how much I love Your cock, Sir?
Brushing my hair behind me, I lowered my head and gave the head of Your cock the lightest of kisses on the very tip - eliciting another "Mmmm..." from You - and then another, adding just a tiny touch of my tongue. I turned my head to glance up at Your face: Your eyes were still closed but Your mouth seemed to hold just a hint of a smile.
I'm not a very patient person, Sir, as I'm sure You know by now. And so, turning my attention back to Your cock, I opened my mouth wide as I lowered my head, trying to encompass as much of Your shaft as possible without actually touching it. Only when I could go no farther did I allow my lips to encircle You, as gently as possible, and my tongue to rest against the head, which pulsed for a moment at the touch.
Oh, Sir, to feel Your cock filling my mouth once more! I have no words to describe how perfect, how very right it felt. If it were possible for a mouth to have a purpose, Sir, I'm convinced that mine was made solely for receiving and pleasuring Your cock.
You must have been exhausted, Sir, because You continued to sleep, even as I held Your precious cock in my mouth. But I was sure You wouldn't do so for much longer, as I allowed my tongue to lengthen and begin, ever so slowly, to caress Your shaft, gently at first and then with increasing pressure, my head beginning to move up and down of its own accord.
And I was right, Sir: I heard You moan softly and it couldn't have been more than a minute before I felt Your hand on the back of my head, lightly stroking my hair. I was sure that any moment You would take over as You had before, forcing Your cock more deeply into my mouth as You gripped the back of my head. But instead I felt Your hand drift onto my shoulder, pulling me away. Had I done something wrong? Should I have asked Your permission?
But no, You guided me onto my back, Sir. And You didn't tie me up, or make me beg. You just made slow, sweet love to me for what seemed like hours. And in some strange way your tenderness with me in those moments - the long, lingering kisses, the feel of Your heart beating against mine as we rested momentarily, the way You held me when I shuddered and came as You filled me over and over - made me Yours, Sir. more than anything else that had happened between us.
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