I often said that Master reads my mind, jokingly. However, it is true that he owns every fucking part of me, mind included. While he might not read my mind, he knows it. And as an extension of my physical self, well, he controls it, too (not the kind of control that you see on an old episode of cops, but the freely given every part of me kind of control). That’s beside the point here. He’s my Master. He controls me.
As I sit here and think about how his control makes me just crave him more, my ass burns, my nipples ache, I feel full and stretched, and I think about just how he controlled me earlier today. We had been working around the house on a big project, both of us sweaty from the day needed showers. Master sent me up to get the shower ready for him. When the temperature was right, his towel ready, and change of clothes laid out, I could hear him coming up the stairs. I grinned. I waited on my knees next to the shower as he entered the room.
I took his shoes off. I took his socks off. I took his shirt off. I pulled his underwear down with my teeth. What a fucking privilege to serve MY Master, I thought. Lost in dreamy perversions about him, I came back to reality when I heard him ask if I expected him to wash himself. It was a silly question, truthfully. I love bathing him, but my mind had wandered. I entered the shower with Master and the water ran down both of our bodies. As I lathered and cleaned Master’s body, I just thought about how physically and mentally attractive he is. My cage strained. I carefully cleaned Master and took in the body in front of me.
As I finished cleaning him and rinsing him, he told me to hand him the soap. Master began to bathe me. Goddamn, what a treat. His big dick was brushing against me as he showered me. It was all I could do not to beg him to use me right there in the shower. I took in every bit of the sensations of my Master’s hands as he scrubbed me. If we weren’t in the shower, I know you’d see me leaking from the cage.
When we finished, I got out of the shower and dried myself before reaching in to turn off the shower and then drying Master. As always, I dried him with my tongue. There is something so carnal, so intimate about licking every drop of water from every inch of the body of the man who owns you. There was energy, as always, but today was stronger. I sensed the need for him to give me his pain, for him to control more of me, to give me more of him and take more of me.
Master’s dick was swinging heavy between his legs, and I imagined how amazing it would feel to be his dick. “You can put it in your mouth, jack,” he said.
I replied with a thank you Master as I swallowed him. I could feel his heart beating in the back of my throat. As he thrust past what used to be a gag reflex, I grinned (the best I could) as I looked into his beautiful eyes and saw the grin on his face.
That grin of his, I’d do anything to see that permanently plastered on his face. He pointed and told me to take my position. Hands now secured to opposite ends of the bar across the doorway and ankles secured to the floor, he pulled my ass back towards him and told me to stay put. He went over to the implements I had already laid out for him.
He asked me if I needed his pain, and we all know the answer to that. He picked up the clear lexan paddle, and I felt it sting across my ass. My dick strained and pulsed in the cage. I felt my ass getting hotter, hotter, white hot. I felt Master’s swinging hard dick hit me as he switched sides. I tried my best to take his pain, and I did.
Master picked up the flogger next, and I felt it sting across my back, my ass my thighs, and my calf muscles. I grunted and tried to hold my position, but it was difficult to do as the stinging kept coming. I wanted more. I wanted to make Master proud. He asked if I needed more. “Yes Master, please,” I answered.
He asked if I was sure as he picked up the leather paddle. I practically begged him for it. The heavy paddle made contact with me and I was near my limit, but I asked for more. My brain in a space where I wanted to take my Master’s pain until his arms were too sore to give me anymore. It is this place in my sub space, where I want to hurt, I want him to use me, I’d do ANYTHING to get closer to my Master. (It is also the space where I think about sappy shit like how much I love him and how amazing he is and all the boring sappy love stuff).
Several more rounds of taking his pain and him checking in with me to make sure I was okay, and I was spent, physically. My body radiated heat from the intensity and the marks, and goddamnit, I was proud. Master was as well. He took me into his lap, and I saw his grin. He told me how proud he was. We talked. We kissed.
He threw me on the bed and told me to show him my ass. He worked the Steelwerks plug, making it rattle. His hand entered his slave’s hole. I felt him inside of me, but still wanted him closer. He turned me over and laid on the bed beside me. I rubbed his body. He told me to get on top of him and face my ass towards him. I did as ordered as he rubbed the marks he made. I rested my face against his leg and licked his body. He was so proud of the marks on his slave. I was, too
He told me to sit up. I did as told. I was facing his feet, my back towards his face, sitting on his dick. It was slick. I pushed my body into his. He pushed me forward so he could push his dick inside of me. I just wanted more of him. A pain slave who loves his Master, who wants more and more of his Master. Fuck, my level of craving, horniness, being owned….well, lets just say I was turned on by being of such service to my Master.
He fucked me. I took in every bit of him. The sensations of my Master inside of me is at times overwhelming for me for all the perverted reasons but for all of the sappy reasons. Master pulled me down on top of him, my back to his chest. He fucked me deep, hard. He whispered some very very hot things into my ear. I was on the edge of orgasm. I could mentally feel the explosion. I asked Master if I could come.
“You can. Do it. Explode for me, slave. Fill your cage. You know you can always come in your cage. All you have to do is ask,” he whispered in my ear (for the record I have never been able to). As I neared orgasm, on the verge of pulsing three years of fluid out into the wide open world, pain shot through my nipples as Master pinched them tightly. Fuck! It was going to happen. I knew it.
Master stopped. Whispered into my ear, my ear used for programming my trigger words. I didn’t have an orgasm. I didn’t ejaculate, but I got something damn close. Master programmed a new phrase. One that takes me to that point of on edge, pure lust mixed with wanting for my Master and begging for release. He tried it a few times, to be sure it worked properly (and boy did it at work the next day when he texted it to me – but that’s another story).
Being the good slave that I am, Master did share his orgasm with me. That is the best thing in the world. It makes me happy to be a part of his release. And now with just one phrase, Master owns my orgasm, holds the key to his slave’s point of no return. That’s been so for years now, but it was a physical key. Now he controls that mentally, too because, well, my mind and my thoughts are a part of that every fucking part of me that he owns. If that isn’t the hottest most loving thing in the world, I don’t know what is.
I’m proud to call him my Master. I’m proud to tell you I am his slave. He makes my world a better place, and no other person makes me as proud as MY Master makes me, his slave.
