See, the thing wi' sbribblin', for this ole wanderer at least, is, it ain;t about them what scribbles. It's about them what reads. Aye, an' them what Reads also :-). An' if them what reads ain't readin', and them what Reads ain't Readin', well. Then him what scribbles? He ain't doin' it right (blush). So since DOCTOR'S ORDERS don't seem tae be right, here's a scribble I've had mitherin' my fingers for a wee while. Here's HOME TIME. Over to y'all...
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HOME TIME
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I kneel by the front door. I am naked apart from my stockings, my garter belt and the four inch heels I'm wearing, as I know you expect me to be. My back is straight, pushing out and offering what I hope are firm, pleasing breasts, my nipples hard. My knees are spread wide apart to properly display my pussy and cunt, and my nadu is completed by my hands, open palms facing up, lying on my thighs. My mouth is open wide, ready to be filled.
I am a woman waiting for her master.
Your key rattles in the lock, and the door opens. You smile, and nod. I am happy my nadu pleases you. Your hand goes to your pants and you pull down your zip. You step in front of me as you ease your cock out, so long and hard. I do what any well trained woman should do when a cock is presented to her. I bow my head down to take your cock into my mouth, and you fill me. You fill me, and I feel calmer already. I've been ready for your cock all day, and now it's where it should be. A woman's mouth is made to be filled with cock, made to please. So I start to please you, the way you've trained me to please you. My head bobs up and down as my face slides up and down your cock. I keep my lips tight round you, my tongue wrapping round your hardness when you are deep in my face, and licking round you as I pull my head back and you withdraw. I know I mustn't let my tongue lose contact with your cock as I suck you, that I must lick you all the way from the slit in the tip of your cock down to your balls as you push deep into my face. As you push into me, your cock touches the entrance to my throat. Of course, it doesn't stop. You push deeper, opening my throat to you. I know my duty, a woman's duty, and I relax my throat so you can penetrate me, take me. As you push deep into my throat and I begin to choke on you, I lick your balls and suck them into my mouth. But I keep my head where you want it to be, your cock deep in me and the air in my lungs barely enough. Then you pull back, the outward stroke, and I suck again. I suck your cock and I suck new air, so you can choke me some more with your hardness. You thrust yourself in and out of my face, in and out of me, and I drift into sub-space. You're using me, taking me, as is your right. And I'm being used, being taken - as is my place. You fuck my face, and I see you smile. I know I'm pleasing you, and I feel a warm glow in my stomach. If a mouth full of cock could smile, mine would. I know it's not the only glow I'm going to feel before you're done.
You reach down and take a fistful of my hair. You pull my head off your cock, then use my hair as a leash to walk me to the living room. I crawl at your side on hands and knees, occasional whimpers I can't hold back dragged from my by the pull of your fist in my hair. I don;t have to fake the sounds, and I know they please you more because you know they're real - that you're really hurting me. Because I know you like to hurt me. Not because I like the pain, that I like to be hurt. I don't. But I know you like to do it, to hurt me, and that's just how it is. Something I accept. And I think that's what you really like, as much as you like hurting me. That I accept your right to do it.
Because you're my Master.
We enter the lounge. You let go of my hair and nod to the clothes I laid out on the couch, ready for your home-coming. For a moment, I smile. Home? Yes, absolutely. Coming? Well, not yet. But I know you will. I stand up, pick up the black lace panties, step into them and pull them on. This is the only time I'm permitted to wear them, and I know you want them on me for a very particular purpose. Then I step into the tiny schoolgirl plaid mini-skirt. When I pull it up, zip and button it, it barely covers my bottom and my cunt. But that's how it's supposed to be. Then I pull on the silk blouse. No bra. What's coming - I grin again - next doesn't need one like it needs panties. I button the shirt up, my tits pushing at it and my nipples clearly hard through the silk. Then i wait - until you sit down. Sit down and tap your knee.
I step to your side and lower myself, my arms stretched to the floor and my legs straight behind me. You lay your hand on my bottom, over my skirt, the other hand in the small of my back, bracing hard. The you raise your hand - and swing it down. The sound of the smack is loud, and my yelp of pain unforced. But I don't need the hand you keep firm in the small of my back to stay in place. I'm exactly where I want to be - where I know I have to be. You hand lifts again, and smacks down hard over my tiny skirt, a skirt that's already riding up to show the black lace panties. You smack me, and then being to spank me in earnest. Because a woman who has been without her master all day needs just that. To be spanked, and to be spanked hard. To remind her what she is, and what she isn't. You spank me, your hand falling on my firm but soft cheeks, and you don't hold back. Neither of us want you to. You hit me again and gain, your hand moving between the cheeks of my bottom, making sure they are evenly disciplined. Then you pull my skirt up, all the way to my waist. You rest your hand on my bottom again, this time on the black lace. "Good girl", you whisper. "Good girl." And then you hit me again, spank me more. And I don't know if it's because what little protection the tiny skirt offered is gone, or if it's just my imagination, but as you hit me, punish me, it hurts more than the spanking has so far. Hurts more, and I know my yelps are turning into louder whimpers. But I don't try to get away, don't try to stop you. You are my master, an d at this moment I am nothing more than a bottom to be spanked into tears. And you spank, and you spank, the slaps loud as your hand falls, and I can feel the glow rising in my bottom. And then, for a moment, you stop. But only long enough for you to tug my panties down to the tops of my stockings, to bare my cheeks for your hand's attention. An attention you return to those cheeks with vigor, with enthusiasm and, I hope, with pleasure. So you hit me more, and you hit me harder, and I burn. Not just in the place you're hitting, but deeper, broader. Inside me, just as I know it does inside you, the flame is bright. Because who we are, what we are, we are being. My Sir, my Master, my Lord. Your Slut, your Slave, your Cunt. And again you hit me, again you hurt me, again you love me with your hard hand.
And when I can feel my bottom is bright red, burning hot, you stop. You stop, and you tug my panties down even further, down my legs so I can kick them off. They've served their purpose, as I have served part of mine. The difference is, I know they will not be needed for what is to come, but I know I am. Needed. Needed as a toy to use, needed as an object to provide pleasure. Yes, the Master, yes, the Slave-Slut. But, always, more. The two of us that are one. And your hand rests on my bottom, savoring the burn and the fire you've built. Rests, then your fingers flex, spreading my cheeks open. Opening them to expose the hole between them. Opening them so your index finger can stiffen, can thrust - can enter me. And you ram your finger into my anus, my ass-hole. Ram it in, and extract it. Ram it in - and slide it out. Then you present your finger to my lips. And I'm a good girl, and I do what a good girl should with anything her master offers her mouth. I open, I drop my head onto your finger, and I suck. I suck and I lick, and I swallow. Because where it's been, the thing in my mouth, isn't important. Where it is, that's what's important. Because it's where you want it to be, and I? I am where I want to be. Serving you, pleasing you. So I suck, the finger you've given me, and you take it from my mouth and use it in the hole you've chosen. Use it, use me - and put it to my lips again. Lips that welcome it, lips that open. And I suck. I suck, and you thrust, and I suck and you take. You take and you give, and I accept and I please. Until you stand, and I fall from your knee to the floor. Until you reach down, and unbutton my shirt, sliding it from my shoulders and my tits. Until again you take a fistful of my hair, again you pull and tug, again you hurt - and again I follow you on hands and knees.
And we climb the stairs, and you open the bedroom door. You open it, and you smile as you look at the bed I prepared before you came home. The ropes ready at each corner, ready for my wrists and my ankles. The riding crop and the cane, the tailed cat and the whip. And you pull on my hair, so much harder now, and I want to cry, to scream the pain is so sharp. But I don't. Because that's for later, for what is to come. I crawl, slow enough for your tug on my hair to hurt the way I know you want it to hurt me, fast enough for me to get to where we both need to be.
And your cock is stiff, and my cunt is dripping - and at last, we're home.