by Peter Loaf
I wanted something new, something exciting, something really sexy. I asked my Master to do me special tonight, seeing that it is my birthday. I thought maybe he’d spread eagle me to the bed and drive me crazy with his collection of sex toys. Not that that would be all that new.
When he came home and drove his van right into the basement garage I suspected he might have a surprise for me. It made me shiver in anticipation of the pleasure I would receive. When he came up the basement stairs his hands were empty but there was a cat-who-ate-the-canary look on his face.
As I had been trained, I kowtowed before him, wearing nothing but a see-through baby-doll pajama top and a smile. He walked around me, inspecting every inch of my offered body. He reached down and touched my hairless pussy, making me moan and lift to him, my naked sex creaming to his touch.
He went into our bedroom and returned, carrying a thick short leather strap and a ball gag. He knelt before me and strapped my wrists together, setting the buckle tight so that my hands were held palm to palm.
He squatted over me and pulled the gag ball in behind my teeth. As I waited until the buckle was set I felt my libido swelling within me, threatening to pop.
He knelt beside me and placed his huge hard hand on my bent bottom, his fingers just touching my swollen and supersensitive labia. I wanted to push back and swallow his whole hand with my hungry cunt, his whole arm. I held still, moaning in need.
He caressed my bottom, thrilling me with the knowledge that he would soon begin my birthday spanking. My whole bottom seemed to glow with the promise of pain to come. I shivered again, not from chill but from heat.
He spoke, his rich, brown sugar baritone caressing my arched and presented body. “’Something Special’ you said?”
I tried and failed not to wiggle in anticipation. I grunted into my gag and nodded, wishing he would hurry up.
He said, “Stay right there, I want to freshen up.”
I suppressed a whine of frustration, and stayed as still as humanly possible while he went into the bathroom.
As I listened to him showering, I visualized his naked, well-muscled blacksmith’s body, covered in lather and glistening wet. I pictured his big, rock-hard penis, dripping soap suds scented with his pre-come.
Speaking of wet, I could feel my fuck-me froth running down the insides of my well spread thighs. Soon, I could smell my sex scent, filling the hallway.
When he emerged he was a Greek God in the flesh. He looked like the statue of David. He looked like human perfection on the hoof.
He came to me and knelt between my splayed feet, his big organ laying over my bent bottom, his big hairless ball sack covering my open pussy, tickling my extended clit. He reached beneath me and gripped my hanging breasts, rolling my nipples between his thumb and forefingers. He pulled back and let his hot and throbbing cock slide down, past my anus, past my pussy and out beneath my tummy, his pre-come mixing with my froth. He humped me, lifting my knees from the carpeting and crushing my passion pearl against my hip bone.
I squeaked and writhed in unbearable pleasure, needing him within me.
He withdrew, bending to kiss my upturned rump as he went.
I lay there, bound and ready, my pussy throbbing and crimson, its need desperate, its flower fully open.
“I think we can do without this.” He said, ripping my pajama top up the back and opening the sleeves so as to toss it aside.
He gripped my wrist strap, pulled me to my feet and carefully led me downstairs.
* * *
Standing in the middle of the basement was a seven-foot tall birdcage, skillfully welded together out of strong iron bars. There was a gate on one side and a heavy snap-hook dangling from the apex of its domed top.
I wanted to run, but there was no place to run to. I wanted to protest, but knew better than to try. I followed him over to the cage and meekly allowed him to fix my wrists up above my head. Shutting the gate, he grinned at me and said, “You are Tweety Bird, I am Sylvester the cat. First I’m going to play with you, then I’m going to eat you!”
I could not speak, so I signaled my consent by spreading my knees to show him my swollen pussy.
He chuckled, “Maybe so, Tweety, but later, much later.”
I shuddered and danced for him, needing him to finish what he’d started.
He reached in to roll my rock hard clit between his hard blacksmith’s fingers. I wanted to come, but could not.
He reached between the bars and captured my right foot. He lifted it and pulled it back out to where he could tie it to the outside of the cage bottom. Seconds later I was hanging from my wrists, my feet no longer able to touch the floor. His hand came in and spanked my pussy, softly at first, then getting hard, causing me to scream out in blooming pain and helpless passion. He went upstairs and got his sparker, when he returned he was wearing a hangman’s hood and crimson tinted contact lenses. I screamed in fear and frustration and felt the business end of the sparker sliding over some of the most sensitive parts of my quivering body.
He touched it to my wet inner thigh and pulled the trigger. Lighting struck, I thrashed in my cage, going nowhere that mattered. I tried to close my legs but could not, I tried to plead my case but the gag garbled my words. I watched as the probe came up to touch a nipple.
Restrained, I could not flinch away, could not escape the brain-deadening jolt of the electric probe.
I began to cry, it being the only defense he’d left me. He chuckled and collected my tears in a small vial, added several drops of my pussy juice and a squeeze of his own pre-come, then used a Q-Tip to smear the resulting potion up into my nostrils.
What had been frustration became desperation. The scent in my nose was primal, hindbrain acting, sexually provocative and demanding. Sex was no longer my desire, now it was my desperate need.
He picked up the probe once again.
I knew pretty much what I was getting myself into, asking my Master for something special. I knew that he would spend half the night toying with me and the other half fucking my brains out. I was more than ready for both.