January has been another month spent happily and gratefully denied, but the cold and the dark has taken its toll too, and Sir has taken extra care to look after his property.

On occasions when we have been working in the same building, I make us each a coffee. It’s a subtle and treasured act of service, and fun to know that colleagues who might wonder how we know each other would never guess the nature of our connection. The last time I was making our drinks, Sir picked up my mug, and at first I thought he had mistaken it for his own. I was quickly corrected as, instead of taking a sip, he spat in it and set it back on the counter without another word.  I thanked him, wished him a good day and happily trotted back to my desk with my prize. 

Later in the month, we had some time to play properly. Sir has not touched my cunt since he stretched it open to hold a fleshlight for it last year, but as I was feeling down he had a much more tender time planned than we might usually indulge in. I dressed up in pretty lingerie to greet him, kneeling in the middle of the floor. We kissed and embraced and eventually, he beckoned me up on to the sofa to straddle his lap. He pulled the crotch of my bodysuit aside and pressed his cock into my cunt. “Slowly,” he told me, “this is for me.” He knows riding him like this edges me hard, and prioritising his pleasure over mine sometimes means I don’t realise how close I am to cumming until it’s almost too late. It feels exquisite, rutting like an animal while my fingers dig into his shoulders or pull his hair. Riding him that day, as slowly as I could force my body to move, my tiny tiny brain was flooded with pleasure and gratitude and when that became too much, stopping made me moan low and loud. Breathing hard between kisses, i eventually resituated myself on his cock and started to grind again. I felt his hand on my back urging me on, setting the pace as he told me to beg him to bless my cunt with his cum.

How could I not? Impaled, overcome, enraptured, those exact words tumbled from my mouth over and over again as I gripped him and rode his cock like it was my salvation. Desperate and near mindless for his benediction, grinding even as I felt his cum flood his hole and spill over his thighs, begging and thanking and so close to cumming myself that i was almost relieved to lift myself from his cock and slump forwards into his embrace. 

Last week, I had a play party to attend with a couple of friends. Ordinarily i wear a fine chain necklace as a kind of day collar, and a token of Sir’s ownership of me. But for this party, which he would not be coming along to, we found a nice heavy length of 6mm thick stainless steel links, and felt it would be fit to baptise the collar before I wore it out. I knelt blindfolded on the bed and worshipped Sir’s cock as he undid the clasp of his necklace, letting me feel its absence, and eventually replaced it with the heavy chain, twisting tight the bolt of the shackle to lock it into place. His hands now free, he grabbed the knot of the blindfold together with my plait, and held me still to fuck my throat until my drool dripped down his balls. 

He stepped back, took my hand and led me (slowly, kindly) out of my room and into the bathroom to kneel in the bath. He removed the blindfold and let me press my face into his thigh until my eyes adjusted, before pushing his fingers into my mouth to lick and suck. Pressing each one deep, touching the back of my tongue before giving me another, using his free hand to stroke his cock until he came on my face, over my tongue, across my chest.

After a brief break for me to shake some feeling back into my feet, I knelt again as he began to piss. It still makes me so excited even just to write about, recognising what a lowly and disgusting pig I have become for him. I gently took his cock in my hand to direct the stream over my tits and up to my open mouth, and then leant close. I alternated between kissing the head of his cock and letting his piss fill my mouth, swallowing what I could and letting the rest spill over my body until he was done. He leant over me to start the shower and rinse both of us off. 

Yesterday’s scene brought in a few different elements that were very or completely new to us, which was exciting! Before Sir arrived, i laid out our toys for the day: a long roll of black cling wrap, a pair of latex mitts, a thin spandex hood with a mouth hole, a metal knitting needle, a pair of clover clamps, a bowl of pegs, a silicone paddle, the fleshlight, a kitchen knife and a pair of safety shears. 

Sir wriggled the mitts over my hands, the hood over my head and stood me in the middle of the room with my feet together and arms by my sides. He wrapped me up tight from my ankles to my shoulders, holding me tight and letting me press my ass against him before gently guiding me down to lie on my back. 

If you’ve spent much time on my page you’ll have noticed I love being restrained. Bondage feels good to me both physically and mentally - I feel trapped and vulnerable, but I also feel cradled. The wrapping felt just like that too, but turned up to eleven. My range of motion almost entirely restricted and my utility to Sir similarly limited. His pathetic worm, fit for little more than suffering for his entertainment. And so, the suffering began: scratching the soles of my feet, almost like tickling but with a roughness and force that certainly made it hurt. It made me laugh and shriek, even when he stopped and instead picked up the knitting needle. Holding each foot still and taut, swapping between pressing the point in until I flinched away, dragging it up and down the length of my foot, and using the needle as a mini cane to strike my soles with. As i whimpered and breathed through it, Sir changed tact. I could just make out the sound of the pump of the lube bottle, and then Sir’s hands on my feet, gently this time. Rubbing the lube over them, and then holding them together to thrust his cock between. I cannot really put into words the thrill of being useful, fuckable, even as a wrapped little worm. How perfectly and saliently Sir demonstrated again that my body is entirely his, to use for his pleasure. He will take it however suits him. 

But he was not done hurting me. He sat straddling me, and cut through the wrap just enough to expose my tits. Groping and pinching, and eventually subjecting them to the heavy blows of the paddle until he sensed that I might be close to begging for a reprieve… which was granted in the form of more rough pinching of my nipples, and then the sharp bite of the clamps. They hurt as it is, but even more so when they fall under their own weight, tugging almost as much as they press. Sir was kind enough to distract me from this by adding pegs to the soft swell of the undersides of my breast, each one pulling the skin tight. By now, my tiny brain was a useless puddle and my cunt was throbbing.

Sir had been talking to me throughout his ministrations, listening for my moans and hums and thank-you-Sirs in reply. Now he told me that just because he had a pathetic worm at his feet did not mean he deserved to go without a tight cunt to fuck. 

(Finished in the comments)