Monday, 24 January 2011

Back Of My Neck

I'm sitting, working at the computer, and it takes me a few seconds to notice the hand on my neck. It's a firm grip, but not too tight, fingers curled around securely, thumb and forefinger pressing in slightly to pressure points.

Everything slows down, like I've been drugged. The screen swims, eyes defocus, water slightly with relief. A wave of relaxation and lust spills over my head and down my body.

The touch is part soothing, part claiming ownership: everything above here is mine, everything below here is mine, and here, particularly here, is mine.

"Time to stop working."

My mind complies.

Saturday, 22 January 2011

Something Degrading

She kneels on the floor in an attitude of submission, legs spread, arms behind her head. He's not paying her much attention, getting on with some work on his computer, occasionally glancing up to see if she's still in the correct position. Her emotions are churning, she normally hates this kind of thing: it's fun to play head games, to be toyed with and controlled, but the moment his guard slips, she usually bounces back and is merrily resisting again.

Somehow though, this is turning her on. She feels as if she's being gently and expertly fucked, and all she has to do is maintain this posture to keep feeling amazing. She knows it's helping to condition her, to make her associate unresisting servitude with pleasure, but she doesn't seem to have the willpower to fight it.

Still, every time her arousal seems about to crest, the feeling pulls away from her. She knows she needs to do something else before she's allowed to come, it hasn't been spelled out, but it's there, bubbling under the surface, words that she needs to say.

"P-please..." she starts. He looks up expectantly, but without emotion. She sighs and tries to maintain some dignity, despite what she's about to say. "I need to submit myself more to you, I need you to... use me."

"Oh? Aren't I using you now?"

"You are, but I need... more. I need to do something more."

"What did you have in mind?"

"I don't know, whatever you want, I'll do anything you want..."

He smiles heartlessly. "Really? What's new?"

She's desperate to convince him, but he doesn't seem to be biting. She needs to go even further. "I want to do something degrading for you."

"Oh, do you?" He's more interested now.

"Yes, please, something... very degrading."

He laughs deep in his throat. "Now, that does sound interesting, tell me more."

Her arousal is building strongly now that she's got his attention, and she's finding it hard to think, but knows that she has to search for something that will satisfy him. "Uh, I don't know... I'll kiss your feet, suck your cock, call you 'Sir' or anything you want..."

"Hmm, not bad, but would you really say that was very degrading?"

She groans. "You can piss on me, I'll lick your arse, you can cover me in spunk."

"A bit better, but how about less bodily fluids, and more of your own personal debasement?"

Her breath catches in her throat. How can she be doing this? She should just get up, leave, forget all about these crazy games, but she needs to go on, dredge up her secret thoughts to entertain him. "Ahh, put me in a collar and lead, take me blindfolded and naked somewhere I don't know, make me crawl around in front of strangers, let them touch me, pinch me, slap me, make me thank them, leave me tied up to a post, begging anyone who passes for an insult, getting more aroused with each one, until finally I hear your voice whisper in my ear, the most vile, humiliating things I can take..."

"Mmmm, that sounds absolutely delicious. What would I call you, my pet?"

"Uh, I'm no good at this, er... fucktoy, cockwhore, cumhead, slutface..." Every name sends a spike of pleasure through her.

He's chuckling at her words, but his breathing is thick with desire. "Go on, you don't really mind sexual insults do you? What could I say that would really... hurt..."

She's panting now, on the edge of coming, she just has to find the right phrase to send her over the edge. "Boring, ugly, moron... washed up, useless piece of meat... huge, stupid, sow... insignificant, tiresome waste of air..." It's still not there, still not right, she whines with desperation.

"Aww, what's the matter? Is my silly little girl too horny to think straight? Does my poor baby need a big, strong man to tell her what to say?"

She glares at him, but her eyes immediately glaze with lust as she comes deeply, over and over, contained by the words that unlock her, so very degrading because, right now, right here... they're true.