Jean Michelle (Selfie)
She waited impatiently for him, she missed him. She looked out the window. Of course it was too early for him to be coming home. She smoothed the skirt of her dress. It was white. He loved white. Her dark skin made the white whiter. She wiggled her toes. The nails were red. She was barefoot. He liked her to be barefoot. It made him remember the beach.
She thought about him. She liked the way his moustache tickled her neck when she put her arms around him and sat on his lap. She was such a good girl. He didn’t realize how good a girl she was. He only saw her impertinence. He didn’t see the struggle inside her. The way she tamed herself in an effort to please him. She thought of the lacy things underneath the dress. She drew her hand up the front. The dress was held together by little snaps, from the hem to the scooped neck. Her breasts were peeking up, with some cleavage showing, but not too much. He liked it when she was teasing, but not immodest. Her body was his, and he wanted to be the one who saw it and no one else.
She heard the car pull up into the driveway. She felt herself get excited. She moaned a little at the thought of her Master’s touch. She knelt by the end of the couch and bowed her head. He came in the door. She trembled but did not raise her head. She knew better. He walked over and stood in front of her. She was looking at his shoes. She didn’t speak, she didn’t raise her head. She waited.
She felt his hand on her hair, playing with the little curls at the side of her ears. She ached to raise her head to see his eyes, but she didn’t. She waited for permission. He slid his hands down her arms and grasped her elbows, pulling her up to him. She thrilled at the touch, but waited still.
“You may look up, Pet,” he said. She smiled and looked up, into his stern blue eyes. She was silent. The only permission he had given was for her to look at him.
“Were you a good girl today?” he said gently. Last night she had been punished severely for insolence. She nodded.
“You may speak, Pet.”
“Yes, Sir, I was good today. I did everything you asked of me. I wrote in my journal, I made you a cake, I went outside for a walk.”
“Good girl.” He took her hand and lead her to the couch, sitting down and gesturing to her to kneel at his feet in front of him.
He unzipped his pants. He slipped his cock out of his jockey shorts. It was hard. “Master had a hard day, Pet. Make me feel better. First, take off your panties.” He leaned back against the couch.
Jean Michelle (Selfie)
She pulled off her panties from her kneeling position. She held them up, waiting. They were white and silky, with lace around the legs. She was beginning to get wet, thinking about what Master might want.
“Wrap them around Master’s cock, and put your mouth on them, make them wet and suck on Master’s cock.”
She wrapped the panties as instructed, and put her mouth over the panties on Master’s cock. She could feel his hardness through the silky fabric. She sucked on the cock and the silky underwear, sliding him in and out of her mouth. Soon the fabric was soaked with her saliva and Master held her head as she worked on him. She could feel him expanding in her mouth. He pulled her head and thrust between her lips, moving faster and faster and then he exploded into the panties. She could feel the
warmth of his come underneath the silk.
He was still hard. He pulled his cock out of her mouth, and pulled off the soaked panties. He stood up and told her to kneel on the couch facing the back. He took the panties and stuffed them in her mouth. She could taste his come on the fabric.
He pushed her body against the back of the couch and spread her legs, lifting the skirt of her dress to expose her ass. He smacked her once on each cheek, and slid his cock into her pussy from behind. She moaned as he started to fuck her, slowly, his cock slick with his come and her juices. He thrust into her, barely moving, teasing her. She pushed back against him, taking him in with each movement. She could feel herself start to come, but knew she had to wait. She whimpered a little, it was so delicious to have Master fucking her.
He bent over her back as he thrust, and whispered in her ear, “Whose little whore are you, Pet, whose?” He pulled the panties out of her mouth and smacked her ass again. “Answer me!”
Jean Michelle (Selfie)
“Yours, sir! I’m your little whore!” she said loudly, trying not to come. “Please, sir, may I come?” she whispered. She was trembling and it was so good, so fucking good to be fucked by Master’s cock.
“Come for me, you fucking whore!” He slid in and out, harder and harder against her cunt. She came with a cry, pushing back against him, her ass slapping against him as he grabbed her hips, pulling her hard against his cock. He could feel her clench around him. He came again, and marked her ass with his come.
She fell forward against the back of the couch, grabbing the cushions, waiting for permission to move. He went into the bedroom and got a towel, wiping himself off, and then her.
“Put on some clean panties, Pet. I will take you out for dinner.” He laughed and slapped her ass.
“Yes, sir. Can we have BBQ?”
“Certainly, you sly little girl. I am happy with your submission.”
She smiled and went into the bedroom for the panties.
Jean Michelle is a woman of a certain age living and writing in the Pacific Northwest. She enjoys murder mysteries and food. She loves oysters. Her blog is wordabsinthe.