CRAWLING FOR HIM
She washes and I dry and put away. That way, I can actually hope to find things next time. We’re both what I would call ‘highly motivated’ to finish the job and move on.
This scene has been somewhat our catchphrase for a D/s relationship since she first learned that I knew what she’d been viewing and writing. I know full well it’s one of her more vivid fantasies, and it’s easily on my top ten list as well.
Checking my watch, I see that it’s already 9:45. I advance on Bella, trapping her from behind at the kitchen sink, my arms on both sides of her. Tucking her hair out of the way, I place my lips just barely grazing her ear and ask, “Are you ready, Isabella?”
Her response is unmistakable. She knows exactly what this phrase means by now. A shiver rushes visibly through her body and she turns just her head to look into my eyes. She nods once and drops the soapy sponge into the sink.
“Your safe word?” I prompt.
“Boggle,” she rasps.
“Good girl,” I praise. I fish the black velvet bowtie out of my front pocket and dangle it in front of her face. “Recognize this?”
She nods, and I remind her, “Use your words, princess. Last warning.”
“Better. Using a symbol of your willingness to submit to me helps with the shift in power.” Her eyes widen at my use of the word, as I’d suspected. “Understand?”
Immediately, she responds with a breathy, “Yes, Sir.” Isabella is a bright lady and a quick study. That bodes well for our chances together.
“So, would you like to wear my tie, Isabella?”
I smirk at her admitted eagerness. I loop the tie behind her neck. “Hold your hair up for me.”
Tying a bowtie is not easy, and it’s even harder to do it on someone else. I hook my arm around her stomach and walk her over to the wall oven, pulling her firmly into my body like a rag doll. The darkened glass window serves as a makeshift mirror. I manage an admirable bow, and tighten up the loops so it’s secure but not tight. “Comfy?”
“Yes, Sir,” she answers, a small smile peeking up at the corners of her reflected mouth.
“Mmm, I like the way my tie looks wrapped around your neck. You can drop the hair.”
I take a step away from her. “I’ll take your shirt.” I’m curious to see which lingerie choice she’s made this morning. As she peels the tank over her head, I see that she’s chosen for sex, not comfort. My little vixen was expecting, or at least hoping for, some action this morning. The realization warms me and stirs my desire.
I relieve her of the shirt she’s holding out to me and drop it unceremoniously on the floor. I can’t resist running my finger under the shoulder strap of her bra. “Mmm. This lavender lace looks perfect on your skin….but you need to take it off.”
She complies quickly and then looks a little puzzled about where to put it. “Just drop it.” She’s watching both of us in the reflection, so she sees my hand come up before she feels the scratch of my nail across her nipple. “Your body gives you away, princess. Look what your nipples are telling me right now. Just like last night. They’re very expressive, you know.” I smirk as her nipples- and my cock- grow impossibly harder in response to my words.
I trail my finger down her abdomen and let it rest at her waistband. “Off,” I say simply. Her breathing picks up, and her fingers quickly work her button and zipper. I step back again, leaving her to unveil the matching lavender lace thong, which displays her assets beautifully. Again, I can’t-and don’t- resist touching the goods. Before she’s even stepped both feet out of her jeans, I give her a light slap on each cheek. Just to get things going.
The unexpected sting of his hand brings an instant gush of arousal to the surface.
More, my controlling half automatically begs, so accustomed to willing what I’ve needed from my unsuspecting and uncooperative boyfriend.
Let him, I counter, relieved to trust my capable partner. The man reflected back at me in the oven door needs none of my encouragement. In fact, I swear he understands what’s going through my head better than I do at every turn.
And why wouldn’t he? I query, focusing on the black velvet accessory. I’ve already told them everything. What I haven’t revealed through my stories themselves, Black Velvet has drawn from me in private conversations. Conversations I now appreciate have actually been with this man standing next to me. I attempt once again to layer together the two people I’ve been holding separate for the last few weeks. It’s helpful that Edward, no, my Master, is an entirely new person in Dom mode, and it’s these moments that are easiest to access the feelings I have for Black Velvet.
“Your mind is racing, princess.” It’s a statement. “I’m going to make this real easy for you. You have one job- Do exactly as I command.” This last statement, he punctuates with an uncomfortable tug at my thong, drawing the floss upward in what I’m sure is now a lewd display.
As I struggle to keep my balance, he pulls a large barrette from his front pocket- sheesh, what other surprises does he have in his pants for me? Do not laugh, don’t smile, don’t even smirk. Within seconds, my hair is skillfully twisted in a loose bun and clipped out of the way. Years of practice, I reflect with mixed emotions. Somehow, his taking command of my hair without a second thought leaves me weaker than his other more overtly sexual touches.
“Okay, princess. Down you go.” He presses down firmly on one shoulder, urging me toward the floor. I drop to my knees on the carpet runner that runs the length of the counter. “Hands and knees,” he commands, showing me the corresponding hand symbol, which I instantly commit to memory. I so want to be perfect for him.
He crouches down in front of my face so we’re eye-to-eye. “You look beautiful on your knees for me, princess. Now, let’s work on your posture before I make you crawl.” Make me. Make me.
He cups my chin and tips my face upwards toward his. “Head up, eyes forward.” I hold that position, and he rewards me with a gruff kiss and simple praise. “Nice.”
He stands and steps over my head, planting his feet outside my hands. He slides his hands from my shoulders down my spine, pushing down slightly, arching my back. “Dip this down…” and slides his hands to my ass cheeks, giving both a firm squeeze, “so that I can see this fine ass better.”
I try to manage what he’s asking, but it’s not easy to lift my ass and my head at the same time. “Need some help?” he chuckles darkly, tweaking my thong toward the ceiling. This time, the friction is created at my front, and the scant panel of fabric slides uncomfortably along the wet path he’s causing. The thong now feels like a cruel joke, where for a moment, I might have hoped it could afford me a shred of modesty. No such luck; he’s turned my new lingerie into his latest torture device.
“Unghhhh,” I moan accidentally, but he just laughs again. He walks back farther and the rough denim of his jeans brushes lightly against my sides. I am trapped midway under his commanding stance.
He bends over and taps the insides of both my thighs, uttering the word that destroys me.
Fuck. Me. There’s almost no word in the English language that moistens my panties like that one, and it took him all of five minutes to discover it last night, the sly bastard. And when that word is delivered by His Sexiness? Gahhh!
I quickly comply, to the best of my ability, opening my knees and everything else, to his demanding gaze. He takes his sweet time evaluating my compliance and enjoying the view without saying a word. It would be so great if he would just touch me, provide me the tiniest friction, give a girl a hand-
Suddenly, he slaps a palm down on each cheek and says, “Go!”
Ohmygod, Ohmygod, Ohmygod! I am crawling. For my Master. I’m not writing this; I am actually living this! I escape the dark blue tunnel of his legs and continue down the kitchen runner, keeping my posture as best I can.
“Enjoying yourself, princess?” his deep voice resonates mockingly from behind me.
“Yes, Sir.” Honestly? I am literally having the time of my life right now.
“Are you good and wet for me?”
“God yes, Sir.”
I stop and pose to his specifications. Without relieving me of the rolled up fabric wedged into my pussy, he runs one finger clinically through the valley of arousal and validates my words. “Impressive,” he says, drawing evidence and making me squirm.
I’ve defined a circuit for her to crawl, and I scrutinize from my vantage point in the middle of the living room floor. From this angle, I can see her dangling tits below, her heart-shaped ass above, and her animated eyes, though she’s trying unsuccessfully not to reveal exactly how much she’s enjoying this.
Every once in a while, I yell out a correction, not because she needs it, but because it makes her even hotter. “Ass higher! Spread those knees (her favorite, I think)! Faster! Slower! Halt!”
After several laps around the room, she’s up for the next challenge. I halt her and crouch by her face again. “I just realized I forgot a couple things when I got dressed today. Notice anything missing?”
She grins at my bare chest and says, “Your buttons?”
This girl has some spunk. I cup her chin in my hand and try to look stern, though my smile gives me away, “Were you just being a little snarky there, princess?”
“A little, Sir.”
“That’s going to cost you an extra trip to my closet.” She looks duly repentant. “Okay, you’re going to learn a new trick right now. But first…” I stand and step around to her back side. In one swift motion, I yank down her thong and pull it down to her knees. For one evil second, I consider making her crawl with it stretched taut between her knees, but I decide to save that for another day. From the looks of things between us, we’ve got plenty of time to add more challenges down the road. I slide it over each foot until she’s free of every article of clothing save my tie.
She automatically opens herself to me without a single reminder. God, it’s so tempting to take her from behind right now. I could have my zipper down in two seconds flat and be inside that juicy opening. Discipline thyself, Edward.
“Do I have your complete attention?”
“Good. Your left hand is glued to my right foot. When it goes, you go. When it stops, you stop. Got the idea?” Fuck me, I’ve never actually thought of tying a girl that way, but the idea zings around in my evil mind and lodges itself into my long-term memory storage. Ugh, Computerese now? REALLY?
Back on track from my momentary lapse into Geeksville, I take command, “Heel!”
I take a few easy steps, then stop. She follows admirably. And we repeat. I add in some sideways steps, and even some backward motion, and Isabella matches me move for move. “You’re an excellent heeler.”
“Thank you, Sir,” she answers, not missing a beat.
I walk her down the hall into my bedroom and have her halt in front of my closet. I sigh deeply. “I don’t really feel like getting dressed in my room today. You can bring everything down to the living room instead.” I reach in and pull out my leather belt. Her eyes grow wide, automatically, at the object in my hand. There’s just something about a leather strap in a dom’s hands that get a girl on her knees even wetter. Who needs a playroom when my own closet holds such exquisite possibilities?
I loop the belt around her waist and buckle it tightly at her back. “Fuck, that looks sexy on you,” I comment off-handedly, admiring the stark contrast of the dark leather and metal buckle against her smooth skin.
“Let’s see, I’m gonna need some boots.” I dig through my shoes and grab my short black leather boots. “Hmmm, now how are you gonna carry these? In your mouth? Balanced on your back? Oh, I know! Of course!” Walking around her, I slide one boot over the corresponding foot and repeat on the other side. Inspecting my work, I comment, “Well, that is definitely a fashion statement. Damn, I wish I had a cowboy hat to top off this outfit. And a pair of spurs for me would be awesome. Ah well, maybe next time…”
I keep peppering in promises about other fantasies, future scenes, other props. Without even acting on any of them, I benefit from her active imagination. Isabella’s mind is arguably her most powerful erogenous zone.
“I need some socks…okay, these’ll do.” She earned herself an extra trip so I toss the socks at the floor in front of her face. “You’ll have to come back for those because of your…infraction.”
I brush my hand lovingly down her neck and stop at her chin. She looks at me with such trust and need that I am suddenly overcome with tenderness for my little trainee.
I brush my thumb across her lips and say, “I sure hope this is the most discipline I have to dole out this morning. I wouldn’t want you to go away and for Christmas Eve and remember me as Master Scrooge.”
“No, Sir,” she answers earnestly.
I pop back up to my feet, satisfied that she’s received the message. Be good. This isn’t the time for me to be strict with her. Grasping the belt buckle in my hand, I say, “Heel.”
‘Heel’ quickly goes right up there near the top of my list, right after ‘Spread’. Holy fucking crap. I watch his foot as if my very existence depends upon getting this right. He walks me back out to the living room, slips his boots off my feet, and sends me for two extra laps around the room before I can go retrieve the socks. I’m afraid to break position, even though he’s not with me in the bedroom, so I lean down and grab the socks with my teeth. Edward seems pleased with my decision when I reappear in front of him. I take him at his word that he doesn’t want to have to punish me today, and while the idea of discipline titillates me, it’s not something I’m eager to try right now. This is quite enough.
“Well done.” He chuckles, tossing a pillow from the couch to the middle of the floor. He unbuttons the lone button at the bottom of his shirt, letting it fall open to the sides. He draws a small package from his pocket- so there were more surprises in those pants for me!- before freeing himself from his jeans and boxer briefs, kicking them out of the way before lying down on the floor with this head on the pillow and his arms folded casually behind his head. His cock bends invitingly in my direction, and my mouth is watering like one of Pavlov’s well-conditioned dogs. Is it possible I’m trained to respond to his penis like a drooling animal after twelve short hours in his presence?
“All right, princess. You may serve me now.”
My face heats up again, as he gleefully exploits my humiliation at having requested earlier to be treated exactly this way. I clamber over his legs and bend to take him into my mouth. French toast be damned, this is my breakfast of choice. My Master says nothing while I work him over, but he does guide my head forcefully with his hand when he gets close. The way he’s unabashedly using me for his own pleasure, not even addressing my needs, heightens every nerve ending I possess , and I moan shamefully around him. I give to my heart’s desire, and he takes with equal fervor. Finally, he explodes with several powerful thrusts.
“That’s one mess you do have to clean up, princess,” he comments, wordlessly guiding my head until he’s licked completely clean. My pleasure, I’m not saying, but feeling with every lusty fiber of my being.
“Bring me those tits,” he commands, and pulls me so my chest is directly over his mouth. One of his hands runs to check that I’m still drenched for him, and indeed, I am. I kneel as patiently as I’m able while he licks and sucks and nips at my breasts one at a time.
I hear the telltale foil tear and sense him rolling on the condom…already?
“Put that pussy where it belongs now, princess,” he says, and I’m shocked when I squat down over him to find him rock hard again and more than ready for action. I try desperately to stop comparing him mentally to…the other guy…but I swear there’s no situation where Jasper doesn’t come up shockingly short. What the hell have I been doing all this time? I ponder, then banish all extraneous thoughts from my mind, giving my Master every shred of my attention.
He grasps his leather belt at my waist and aligns himself with my center, pushing upwards as I settle down. The combination is positively explosive. He takes charge of my rhythm, directing me by pulling on the belt, and pounds from below while he bounces me above. I’m riding a wave at the most incredible water park ever, and the tide is building, building, building. Harder, harder, harder. Faster. Bouncing. Grinding.
And just when I’m almost there, he twists my nipples with such force that I almost jump off. “Come for me, princess,” he orders, pounding harder than ever, and I’m gone. So totally gone.