I imagine that, like me, most people masturbate to images that please them and arouse them. I'll note here my most recent images, those of this morning; images that brought me to climax at my own hand.
I have an Owner. This becomes very apparent because when I knock on his study door on my return home he reminds me that I have failed to complete a task.
It is true. The task has slipped my mind. I apologize and say that I will tend to it immediately. He replies that before this takes place, a written task, he needs to "correct me" to impress upon me the most important rule of all; the rule from which all other rules originate.
'What is your most important rule, girl?'
'To do as told.'
'To do as told. The correction will help to impress this upon you.'
He produces a tawse. He has me take off my panties and bend over his desk. He has me count each stroke and to thank him for each stoke; strokes that help me to learn my lesson.
I have yet to climax. I need to feel the connection with my sadist Owner more intensely.
He lectures me a little; not sternly, just more talk about training me to respond to his every whim instantly; the desire to please him as being my first and uppermost thought.
Then, he says that he wants to keep my attention right now on my warm ass. Thus, I am to stand close to the open fire with my bottom presented to the fire, to maintain the heat; to remind me of the work of the tawse.
He assists me into position, bends me over and spreads my cheeks. He wants, he says, for every last inch of my backside to feel the glow of the embers. Noting my anal plug is in place (God forbid I'd broken that rule!) he tells me that today it will remain in place for longer than usual; that I am not to remove it until I am granted permission.
Buzz words do it for me - 'permission' is an instant turn on for me. I am much wetter now; way more aroused now.
Of course, I struggle. The flames are making it incredibly difficult to remain in place and yet, having disappointed once already today, I know that I must endure. He might as well say, 'suffer for me', because that is what he wants me to do, and that is what I know I must do, for his sake and for mine.
The whimpers become more intense, more desperate. He comes to me finally and allows the back of my skirt to fall down over my very red ass. He tells me to rise. He holds me close. 'Good girl'.
'Do you wish to serve your Owner?'
I am desperate to do so. I nod. He leads me further away from the open fire and silently commands me to my knees. My mouth opens at the sight of his cock and without further invitation I take it into my mouth as one might put one's lips to the Holy Grail; with reverence and awe. Immediately, I feel at peace.
He speaks to me at times - that it is my place to serve him; that it is his pleasure that matters the most, and all through these words, I hear them merely as distant music in the background. My head is empty of thought. My mind is absorbed in a sense of grateful fulfilment and abandon.
Unexpectedly, he holds my head tight in his hands, the signal that he will dictate the pace from now on. He thrusts his cock deep in my mouth at rapid speed. Meanwhile, I am lost in sensations of being used, of being of use; of having an Owner; of being at one with him and of being at one with myself.
He comes hard, grunting, spurting hot cum into my mouth. I have my own version of an orgasm; it is a massive relief to the soul to be treated in this way.
In real life, I'd reached my own climax, but even so it's hard to let the images go. They provide me with intense relief from a fundamentally vanilla marriage. I am the kinky one around these parts. So, I added one last little detail to the scene. The task was a written one. In his study is a school desk - wooden with a wooden chair to match. He has me complete the overdue written task sitting at that desk, with my corrected bottom directly on the seat.
Of all the events that afternoon I find this one the most humiliating. I can't get lost in sexuality. It is all about 'place'; humiliation; enforcing my role as his charge and his role as my authority figure. It just thrills me to the core, that image.
I have an Owner. This becomes very apparent because when I knock on his study door on my return home he reminds me that I have failed to complete a task.
It is true. The task has slipped my mind. I apologize and say that I will tend to it immediately. He replies that before this takes place, a written task, he needs to "correct me" to impress upon me the most important rule of all; the rule from which all other rules originate.
'What is your most important rule, girl?'
'To do as told.'
'To do as told. The correction will help to impress this upon you.'
He produces a tawse. He has me take off my panties and bend over his desk. He has me count each stroke and to thank him for each stoke; strokes that help me to learn my lesson.
I have yet to climax. I need to feel the connection with my sadist Owner more intensely.
He lectures me a little; not sternly, just more talk about training me to respond to his every whim instantly; the desire to please him as being my first and uppermost thought.
Then, he says that he wants to keep my attention right now on my warm ass. Thus, I am to stand close to the open fire with my bottom presented to the fire, to maintain the heat; to remind me of the work of the tawse.
He assists me into position, bends me over and spreads my cheeks. He wants, he says, for every last inch of my backside to feel the glow of the embers. Noting my anal plug is in place (God forbid I'd broken that rule!) he tells me that today it will remain in place for longer than usual; that I am not to remove it until I am granted permission.
Buzz words do it for me - 'permission' is an instant turn on for me. I am much wetter now; way more aroused now.
Of course, I struggle. The flames are making it incredibly difficult to remain in place and yet, having disappointed once already today, I know that I must endure. He might as well say, 'suffer for me', because that is what he wants me to do, and that is what I know I must do, for his sake and for mine.
The whimpers become more intense, more desperate. He comes to me finally and allows the back of my skirt to fall down over my very red ass. He tells me to rise. He holds me close. 'Good girl'.
'Do you wish to serve your Owner?'
I am desperate to do so. I nod. He leads me further away from the open fire and silently commands me to my knees. My mouth opens at the sight of his cock and without further invitation I take it into my mouth as one might put one's lips to the Holy Grail; with reverence and awe. Immediately, I feel at peace.
He speaks to me at times - that it is my place to serve him; that it is his pleasure that matters the most, and all through these words, I hear them merely as distant music in the background. My head is empty of thought. My mind is absorbed in a sense of grateful fulfilment and abandon.
Unexpectedly, he holds my head tight in his hands, the signal that he will dictate the pace from now on. He thrusts his cock deep in my mouth at rapid speed. Meanwhile, I am lost in sensations of being used, of being of use; of having an Owner; of being at one with him and of being at one with myself.
He comes hard, grunting, spurting hot cum into my mouth. I have my own version of an orgasm; it is a massive relief to the soul to be treated in this way.
In real life, I'd reached my own climax, but even so it's hard to let the images go. They provide me with intense relief from a fundamentally vanilla marriage. I am the kinky one around these parts. So, I added one last little detail to the scene. The task was a written one. In his study is a school desk - wooden with a wooden chair to match. He has me complete the overdue written task sitting at that desk, with my corrected bottom directly on the seat.
Of all the events that afternoon I find this one the most humiliating. I can't get lost in sexuality. It is all about 'place'; humiliation; enforcing my role as his charge and his role as my authority figure. It just thrills me to the core, that image.
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