Last week whilst I was splayed across his desk, I heard one of the sexiest most delicious, pussy wetting commands to ever come out of his mouth.
I was restrained with a frog tie. My mouth was stuffed with the end of a rolled up magazine. My fingers clinged to each side of the desk. Sir was already abusing me quite nicely. He was devouring my pussy, and his fingers were relentless in probing my ass. My eyes were screwed shut trying to focus on not muttering a sound when suddenly the sensation stopped. I opened my eyes, and he was staring down at me.
“I’ll be back,” he said and started out of the room. A second later he was looking at me again, with the most villainous grin. “Keep that pussy wet.”
That directive, those four demanding words, made me feel like something. I didn’t know what I was feeling, or why those words made me feel that way. What I did know, was that the words spoken to me completed that task for me. It felt like they made my juices run freely. I was hurt and disappointed that I wasn’t allowed to moves my fingers to feel just how wet they made me.
A few days have passed and I can’t figure out why those words did so much to my body. I think if he said them today it wouldn’t be the same. What is it about certain moments that make certain things like a hard slap on the ass, a slightly softer smack on the face, the feelings of fingers wrapped around your neck stand out amongst all the others?
This is their craft. Each Dominant to know their submissive’s so well. To know exactly what to say, and when to say it. To know exactly what to do and when to do it.