fellatio rapture

How wonderful is fellatio. To kneel abject truly feminine, before your Master & beg to be permitted to give him pleasure. Just a slut squirming with helpless need kissing at his feet, totally supplicate to his desires. Wet & slippery, smelly with my hot desire. My filmy silks plastered moistly to my burning molten thighs. I almost choking on my fervid submissive sexuality.
Suppliant & whimpering, with hot breathless little moans. My thighs squidging wetly, noisily inside my soaked & slimy silks. My belled nipples taut & agonizingly erect uplifted urgently to him, through the diaphanous glossy fabric. Moaning & gasping for each tiny excited breath, hot & sticky inside my veil as the fabric slipped into & out of my soft lips invitingly.
He has just unhooded and ungagged me, but my wrists are still braceleted behind me, as are my ankles. I am still chained, leashed to the ring set in the foot of his chair. I had been busy at my menial chores. On all fours nude save for my veil on all fours, scrubbing and polishing his tiles. When I had been curtly interrupted & told to prepare myself for Masters return. Almost delirious with happiness, I had perfumed, rouged & silked my soft curves. Then chained hooded & gagged I had been taken to his chamber and left kneeling at the foot of his couch. I had listened in the darkness to other slaves cleaning & preparing food for him. Then total silence for over an hour. I knew he was coming soon when I heard the bare feet of the girls bringing chilled drinks for him. He will have been riding in the morning then swimming at the beach, as the early afternoon becomes very sticky. Back here slavegirls washing him in the shaded pool in his garden, massaging him, then soothing his limbs with cooling oils, before dressing him in a fresh tunic. His sandals lovingly polished. Then he arrives and unhoods me. Kissing his feet as I am ungagged begging to serve his pleasure.
He silences me with an impatient snap of his fingers, in terror I subside. Was I displeasing ? did I beg too much ? Did I desire to serve him not for his pleasure but to satisfy my needs ? He fondles the handle of his whip while you wait on the tiles at his sandaled feet.
He tosses the whip to the tiles & unchains me from his chair.
“Fetch it”
Still in the bracelets I struggle to the whip & pick it up between my lips & return to his feet. He takes the horrible whip & presses the blade harshly to my lips.
I kiss the frightful leather in absolute terror. The humiliating sensation of nearly wetting myself with fright, shaming me. But even that isn’t permitted me here.
The black leather implement is well worn & the blade supple & browned with its stern application. I know it well & fear it terribly. Almost as absolutely as I love him & his total uncompromising discipline. I wait, my knees suddenly acutely sensitive & sore on the hard tiles, soaking in my own heat & trembling with vulnerable apprehension.
The silence is terrible. I listen to his relaxed breathing, my own tense, choked with fright, over the sounds of my tiny bells & the slippery sounds of my wet intimacies.
The last time I felt the whip, he had punished me because my demeanour kissing the whip hadn’t been fearful enough. Another time because it was too fearful & he felt I was trying to be pleasing just to avoid the whip. Another time because he wasn’t pleased with my orgasm. But most often because purely it pleases him to punish me. Or simply to discipline me prior to fellatio.
Chained on the floor or in the stock. Perhaps hooded, perhaps gagged, perhaps both. Under the lash. Each blow meticulously timed to raise the crescendo of pain & misery of the whip. The agonizing wait for the next bite of the leather, almost as terrible as when the leather hits you. First bluntly & brutally solid, into the muscle fibres of your buttocks & legs, then cutting like hot wire as the force of his stroke expends itself in your flesh. Immediately the impacted flesh begins to welt, although the skin is never broken, & throb burning & stinging. I wait in agony, writhing piteously in as much as my bonds permit. If I am gagged my sobs & whimpers for leniency are muffled, quite prettily. If am ungagged I am barely able to make any sound come from my lips, breathless in the throes of pain & terror. My smarting flesh aguishly anticipating the next lash. He only keeps me waiting for an instant but it feels like an aeon of throbbing dread. The next blow expertly hitting the previous subcutaneous welting, spreading it, the pain is tenfold now. The next blow tenfold again. Until I feel I am almost in the throes of a terrible rapture, a throbbing orgasmic swelling of hurt. 20 lashes is considered a minimum, often 50 or more are administered. My flesh remembers the whip, knows it intimately, my whole being engulfed by its fear of physical punishment, and its humiliation. And I love him for owning me, his uncompromising strictness with me, for whipping me if he is any way displeased, and for reminding me of his sternness now.
But I am not to be whipped just now, he hangs the whip once more from the side of his couch. Where I can see its implied menace clearly as I kneel before him. I am crying with relief kissing once more at his feet. He releases my ankles and wrists.
“Beer girl”.
Gracefully but hastily I fetch him ice cold lager, in a chilled tankard. Kneeling at his feet, lifting the cup to my breasts, kissing the rim lovingly before lifting it to him, over my lowered head with both outstretched, uplifted arms. He takes it without comment. The men confident in their easy superiority here waste no small talk on slavegirls .
His hand rests idly on the hanging whip as he enjoys the chilled beer. Impassively regarding you while he decides whether to whip you, or to taste you intimately, or to dismiss you, or any combination he chooses. The decision is rightfully his & only his.
Then he reaches down & holds one of my belled nipples, through the silk of my top, fondling the erect tissue firmly & painfully in his pinched fingers. In just a second or two I am incredibly flustered with utterly helpless excitement. My tiny hands clutching at his muscular forearm as he torments & teases first one then the other nipple. When they are both so painfully erect that the silk of my slip felt like sticky coarse rubber as my nipples pressed through the tight top, the pretty chain between the rings is pulled taut. He flicks the bell suspended from the chain. It swings from nipple to nipple ringing out. I have not been permitted to look up above his belt, I watch the bell swinging back & forth between my nipples. I hear him shift in his chair and glancing at his lap I catch a glimpse of his growing erection quite visible beneath his tunic. My loins suddenly awash with hot sticky wetness, my skin flushes. I bite my lip, glowing scarlet on my knees before him.
“Slut”
My voice is a hoarse whisper “Yes Master ?”
“Beg to pleasure me”
“Yes Master”
“Please Master, emily aches to feel you in her lips.”
“Master please part this girls lips with your erection, & permit her to pleasure you.”
“Please Master permit emily to love you, while you drink & permit her to savour your lust.”
“Please Master come inside my lips, fill me with the taste of your pleasure”
My voice was husky, whimpering and moaning as I supplicated him enticing his lust wantonly. In my swimming minds eye I saw him pushing open my lips, with his erection, or parting my legs firmly & entering me & violating.
“Touch yourself, slut, and beg.”
With one hand still clutching his arm quite desperately but tenderly, I began to touch & stroke my wetness through my pantaloons. The glossy fabric was quite heavenly on my inflamed intimacies & utterly distracting. No wonder men find oral sex through our veils so much to their liking. I continued to plead & cajole quite piteously, squidging & squirming between his legs.
He continued to watch me drinking his beer. Then taking my free hand he pushed it into the moist heat of my pantaloons. Immediately my fingers were moist & sticky. I began to arouse my clitoris masturbating slowly. With the other hand I entered myself from behind & using the excess lubricant from my vagina began to penetrate my anus equally slowly but firmly. Frequently I am dildoed front, rear & orally, for my chores, often for days at a time. Quite often I am kept braceleted and made to perform my chores with a dildo handled brush or polisher in my mouth. The phalluses are rather oversized with exaggerated features & the rubber is very realistically fleshy, and must also be treated with loving respect. Like my Master they must lovingly kissed & licked clean then dried with soft towels. Needless to say I am not permitted to come, while impaled in this manner
My pleas were becoming increasingly interspersed with helpless moaning now.