A game of Master and slave

This is “romantica,” written to be kind of an intro to the idea of Dominance/submission for people who didn’t know a lot about the concept. This was before 50 Shades of Gray and that’s really now the default way new people come into this subgenre. This also got high ratings but at the moment got dropped down to “draft” mode on Amazon by their review people for some generic “violation.” I have to figure out what the problem is and get it back up. 

“I love you,” she said, a faint echo of plea in her voice.

“I love you too.” I was behind her at the vanity, both of us barefoot on the marble floor of the bathroom. Daylight and beach sounds poured in through windows, the curtains billowing brightly. Sky blue outside, an impossibly thick sand-colored towel wrapped around me.

“You know I’m sorry, right…?”

“I know,” my hands were on her hips now, as I moved behind her. Both of us were illuminated in the expansive surface of the mirror. The cups of her lacy bra held her in, the tops of her swells curving deliciously. The boyshort panties wrapped around her hips, and my hands wrapped around the panties.

She knew this was my favorite view of her- exposed, sensual, and ready. Matching bra and panties were my favorite lingerie on her; my still-damp body molded to hers as I held her from behind. My chest touched her warm back. I could feel the clasp of her bra on my skin as she leaned back into me.

My eyes went to the mirror, seeing her face, and easing over her body like a second caress as I touched her with my palms and fingertips. Her eyes were wide, concerned.

“I really am.” She said, her eyes now closing as she leaned back against me, offering herself, in a way.

“I know you are. You told me so, and I believe you.” My body nestled right up behind her, accepting her. She moved her head to the side, and I moved her cascade of chestnut hair away with my hand, my mouth very close to her neck. I know she could feel my breathing there, as my hands held her hips fast.

“And I told you, I’d do anything you wanted.”

“I know you did. And you will.” I started to gently kiss her neck as I held her close, knowing that as I slowly moved from her ear to her collarbone I’d raise the goose bumps on her.

“I will,” she exhaled, the white and tan opulence of the suite’s master bath falling away, a bit. I kissed her neck for a while; my hands moved in front, palms over her navel now, traveling over smooth warm skin.

“Today you’re my little slave girl,” I said into her neck matter-of-factly, as I kissed her, my hands holding her just a bit closer, just a bit tighter. She was now leaning forward, as I had gently pushed her forward to the rim of the vanity, her palms seeking support on top of the marble top as I continued what I was doing.

Her legs moving more apart.

“Oh yea? And what if I misbehave?” Her reply was playful; her eyes still closed as her body started to really react to my touch. I knew her nipples would be stiffening, and by the way she was rubbing against me, I suspected that the cleft between her legs was wet.

“Again?” I asked, pointedly.

This brought a silence, and perhaps I was a bit too sharp. Like that first whack of a spanking, or the first crack of a kurt-whip, disciplining a slave, letting her know you mean business.

I moved on quickly, not giving her time to dwell on the hurt. “I’ll discipline you, like I do my other slave girls.” Diverted by my words, her mouth dropped open in surprise, eyes open, and then looking at me in the mirror, she recovered well.

“Oh you have other slave girls, do you?” He chin raised a bit, her nose up, a bit of a pout on her face.

As if I could have any other slaves but her.

“I have many girls on my chain, little one,” I said absently, nuzzling her neck. “Many beautiful women owned and trained. But today,” I paused, teasing her ear with my tongue, “is your day. Today you are my favorite slave.”

“How many other slaves do you have?” she asked, leaning into me, accepting my physical and figurative premise.


“And why am I your favorite?” She asked, in a tone that defined her more than anything I’d heard in a long while.

Today you’re my favorite,” I clarified. Her tone changed, just a bit.

“Just today?”

“Well, today in particular.” I was slowly crafting this as I went. I had an idea of how I wanted her, how I was going to resolve the issue of last night.

“Because I give such good head?” she asked, finally starting to push back, in her way. I smiled into her neck. She gave amazing head. Many women think they did, many are mistaken.

But she had a gift.

“That’s one of the reasons. Another reason is I like showing you off, more than my other slaves.” I moved my head, and started kissing her on the other side, her silken hair tickling my face for a moment. I breathed in deeply, catching the scent of her.

“Showing me off?”

“Showing you off. Letting the men of the world see you, see what I have, what I own.” A few heartbeats passed. This again was sensitive territory given what had happened the previous evening. I moved her mane of hair out of the way again, and her body moved with mine, ever so slightly, our responses subliminal after so long. Call and reply.

“Are you going to show me off today?” She asked, tentative.

“Definitely,” I answered as I looked up, my hands now traveling along her ribs. “And to do that, we need to make a few changes.”

“Oh? Like what?” Her eyes were up, now. Standing behind her and reflected in the mirror, I looked right into those pools, my head tilted down. My hands were on her shoulders now, gently caressing her.

“First of all, call me ‘Master’. Or I’ll spank you.”

Something in my tone must have conveyed the fact that I’d spank her, well and truly, making her cheeks glow bright red and bringing tears if I had to; that I’d do it in a heartbeat.

She responded to the tone.

“Master?” She gave the word a tentative try.


“Master,” she spoke again, wrapping her lips around the word.

I liked how it sounded, when she said it.

“Good slave,” I told her.

“Mmmmm. Thank you. Master.” She put her head back again, leaning into me as I nestled up close behind her. “What can I do for you, Master?”

“Well, slave, I’m going to show you off today. Do you like to be shown off?”

Again, a pause here. I moved my hand up her back, over her bra and gathered up a bit of her hair again, this time a length of it entwined in my hand, moving her head slightly to the side. I sank my teeth gently into her neck, then kissed where I had put my teeth on her, and let her feel my hardness as I rubbed it on her behind over her cheeks, over those panties.

“Do you like to be shown off,” I repeated. “Do you like men looking at your body?” Her head went back, leaning over my own shoulder as I tended to her, being a bit firmer with my mouth and my hands as I held her.

“Yes, Master.”

“Tell me about that,” I whispered, in her ear.

“What?” She asked, a little breathless now.

“Tell me about why you like the attention of other men,” I told her, knowing my words were sinking deeply into who she was. My pulse was rising, and I was thickening down below, rubbing up against her lasciviously, fully erect and sliding in between her cheeks now.

“I like…” she started, searching. “I like their eyes on me.” Her own eyes were closed again, and her head was back as she made the admission. Her hips were rolling in that sensual way, rubbing back against me.

“You do, eh?”

“Yessss, I do.” Her voice was throaty. If I was going there, apparently, she was going to surrender and be led. Like a good little slave.

“Tell me more,” I said, kissing the top of her shoulder and moving the tips of my fingers under the general swells of her breasts, bringing them up.

“I like knowing they are imagining me, like this.”

“Imagining owning you, possessing you?” I asked, intrigued.


“Using you?” I was falling into this very easily, it seemed.

“Yes…” our bodies were moving together now, as we stood at the vanity. This was our dance, clearly me taking her from behind, though her panties and my towel were in the way. Her legs wobbled a little, as she braced herself against me, pitching a little forward.

I very much enjoyed having this effect on her.

“I see,” I continued. “Men’s eyes on you… like a caress,” My hands moved, kneading her swells through the bra as I whispered to her. “Your breasts… your lips…” I moved my hands down, and cupped her behind, running my hands over her shape there. “Your ass…”

“Yessss” She breathed, moaning slightly as I explored her, passing my fingers over her as men’s eyes might go. I kept moving, slowly, enjoying the feeling of her rubbing against me as I explored her body with my hands, watching her in the mirror every so often. Her eyes were still closed.

“Okay, slave… hmmmmmmm,” A thought came to me. “I have to think of a slave-name for you.”

“A…” she gasped as I bit into her shoulder again. “A slave name?”

“A name that I can give you, so that when you hear it, you’ll know the part of you I’m talking to,” I moved my hands again, one taking up the heft of a breast, the other tracing the lines of her lower lips, ridges in the smooth fabric of her panties. “So you’ll know I’m talking to the slave, the party toy,” my fingers got bolder, circling around her hard little nub through those panties. “The girl I like to show off, and own.”

She was soaking.

“Mmmmmmmm,” she answered back, bending her hips forward and rubbing her heated sex against my fingers, the moisture coming through the panties to my fingertips. “What’s my slave name?”

“I haven’t decided. I’m still upset with you.” Again, with the whip.

“Yes Master,” I heard it in her voice, the pain of it, genuine. I reached around the edge of her panties, and dipped my finger into her wet honeypot. Her gasp came, the good with the bad, pleasure with the pain. She cooed, and rubbed back into me as I did this to her, my sweet little slave.

“What can I do, Master?” She asked again, almost pleading now.

“First…” I leaned over, my hips still flush with hers and grinding against her, my other hand now reaching towards the colored bag she kept her makeup in, on the top of the vanity. “Put this on, do yourself up.” It took her a moment, to orient.

“How…?” she asked, looking at the bag and at me but still completely into the motion of our bodies.

“Do it differently,” I said. “Not like you normally do. Do it like a slut would.” She was still leaning into me, her eyes still closed, and there came here an intake of air.

“I don’t… usually do that…” she stammered.

“Why?” I asked, my finger still at its dewy, heated work.

“Because… I’m not like that.” She pitched forward again, gently, for support, as my fingers worked her relentlessly. I followed right behind, still pressing against her.

“Like what?” I asked.

“Like a slut.”

“But you are today.” I told her. “Today you’re my slave girl. And today you do whatever I say, right?”

“Yes Master.”

“Good. And as you put it on, I am going to amuse myself with your body.” I drew my fingertips out and traced up a wet line along her spine up to her neck, still very close behind her. “Perhaps a name will come to me. ” It was getting so that I didn’t need to be teasing her erogenous zones; I just needed to stroke her body, anywhere, and keep whispering to her.

I was getting –very- aroused, and I knew she could feel it.

“Before you do your lips, I have need of them, slave. Something I’d like you to work on.” With that I gently turned her, guided her down to her knees on the cool marble in front of me. I knew it wasn’t comfortable, but I knew I wanted to feel her mouth on me. “Do a good job,” I commanded, unnecessarily.

“Mmmmmmm, yes Master.” Her eyes were closed as she said that, but as she lowered she opened them, large and beautiful as she looked up at me. My towel fell to the floor, the cool air hitting my hips and thighs. I took a step back, bringing her forward so that her knees were now on the plush, damp cotton.

She took my length in her hand, and stroked me up and down as I pulsed, using her tongue on the base and around my balls. She worked her hand up and down, drawing a bead of fluid out easily.

My turn, to react. My legs were tight, my breathing deep as she started, a slave on her knees, but now taking control. I spoke as my head went back, feeling her mouth on me.

“I knew when I saw you up on that block, on display after your city was captured; I knew I wanted to own you. I wanted to possess you, and use you as I saw fit.”

“Mmmmmmm,” She replied, running up and down my firm length with her tongue. I didn’t look down, but I knew she was watching me, watching my body react. I caught that scent, then; her sex filling the air, and I pulsed under her lips.

“Just like that,” I said, breathing in deeply. My hands now came to her, along her smooth cheeks, my fingertips grazing her lips before I moved into her hair, both palms gathering up the length of her silken mane in my hands in a very male gesture.

“You knew?” she asked, as she traveled up and down. “You knew you wanted to own me…?” My grip tightened a bit around the length of hair I had. I knew I had better start to dig in, figuratively. I wasn’t ready to give her that particular creamy gift yet, and she was well on her way to getting it, although she’d just started.

“You fought at first,” I responded. “I remember. But I knew, deep down, you wanted to serve me, wanted me to truly Master you.”

“Mmmmmmmmhmmmmmmm,” she replied, taking me fully into her mouth now. I looked down, watching her, and caught those beautiful eyes as she looked up for a moment at me, then closed her own, focusing on her slave’s work.

“To take you in hand,” I went on, my hands still in her hair as she bobbed on me. “Free you to be as wild and dirty as you could be; after all, you’re just a slave girl, no will of your own, having to do whatever your Master says.”

“Whatever he says…” she gasped, coming up for air before descending back down onto me. After a bit more of that, I knew I had to set the pace, or else I’d wind up spurting in her lovely mouth… and as attractive as that idea was, I wanted to wait. I removed one hand from her hair and grasped the base of my hardness. I took it out of her mouth, gossamer strands connecting the tip and her lips, some of it running down her cheek as she watched it, mouth open.

I rubbed it on her face, making her cheeks slick with it, watching her as I did it.

“Can you taste me, slave?” I asked huskily, trying to master my own breathing.

“Oooooh Yes Master.”

“Can you feel that on your face? I think maybe I need to mark you as mine, somehow. So you don’t forget.”

Again, with the whip.

“Yes, Master… yes. I’m yours…” She breathed the words, as if apologizing to me by saying them.


Gently but firmly, I pull her up. Not quite lifting her by her hair, but letting her know what I wanted by how I handled the ponytail I held. I moved her, sat her up on the vanity. Her arms went back and her legs opened as I stepped into her, my hard wet length rubbing against her panty-covered cleft.

“I want to see these,” I breathed, looking at her chest. “I want to see your nipples. Show them to me”

Skillfully, one of her arms reached up, and undid the bra. It fell away and her lovely swells spilled out in front of my eyes. Full and heaving, topped by very pronounced nipples feeling the air in the bathroom and standing right up.

My hands were under her knees now, drawing her open and up, still rubbing against her between her legs.

“Do you like men to see your nipples?”

She didn’t answer, but moaned as I said this. I might have to pry this answer out of her, I thought.

“Do you?”

“I do,” she said. Her eyes open, a bit glazed as she looked at me, moving her hips and rubbing herself against me. “Master… I do….”

I pushed. “Why?”

She looked at me, her eyes pleading a bit, her lower lip between her teeth. “Because… it makes me hot… because I need it.”

Jesus. I was hard as a rock, at these words.

“You’re a needy little slave, aren’t you?” I released one leg, which instantly wrapped around my hips and drew me into her. I took one of her nipples between my fingers and pulled.

She gasped, eyes widening.

“I am…”

“And you need that attention…?”

“I do, Master, I do…”

“I know… and that’s okay, slave girl. I knew that about you when I first saw you, when… I first laid eyes upon you on the block. ” I kept using my fingers on her, tweaking and pulling and teasing her nipples as I spoke to her like this. “When the man tore your top off, stripped you in front of the gathered crowd, I saw how you reacted… you felt ashamed, but your body… definitely needed it”

Her eyes were closed now, her mouth open as she took in air, seeming to feel the words, see it all in her mind as I spoke to her.

I couldn’t take it any more. I was throbbing, aching. I pulled her off the vanity, again reaching for her hair. With a deft turn she was standing, turned around and facing the mirror again, offering herself to me behind her. I bent her over and with a fluid motion yanked the panties down to her ankles, and with that free hand put the swollen, aching tip of my length between those sweet wet lips, adjusting slightly and finding just the right angle before sinking myself into her.

She moaned, low and guttural, as I took her from behind. One hand on her hip, the other still in her hair as I pushed all the way in, my inches buried to the hilt in her. She felt exquisite, and I stayed like that, buried for a moment, savoring it before drawing out.

“Put your legs together,” I gasped, and she did so, instantly. Being taller, I adjusted a bit, and eased back up inside of her, lifting her onto the balls of her feet with the force of my entry. That delicious first few strokes inside were mind-numbing, as I felt her slick heat grip me, wrap around me. I started in earnest.

She was moaning, gasping. “Master….. Master…” I was not being gentle.

“You’re very tight, slave,” I managed to say, between gritted teeth. “And very wet.” I knew she’d be running down the inside of her thighs now, especially with me taking her so forcefully.

She was moaning with each thrust, as was I. We got into our rhythm, and I moved my hips, rubbing the head against her sweet spot up inside, tickling her there as I pounded. After a brief time of this, I felt her building towards her climax.

With the control of a samurai, I stopped abruptly, eased out of her, my length slick, glistening and cool as it hit the air.

“Ooooooooh,” she cried out, her legs shaking a bit.” “Nooooo Master, please,” she begged. “I’m good…”

She definitely was, and I definitely wanted to. But I resisted. Somehow.

“That’s enough for now, I think.”

“Ooooooh but why?” As she spoke, she moved back against me, trying to either slip my pulsing shaft back up inside her, where it belonged, or to entice me to do it. “Don’t you want me? Jesus, I’m so hot, and sooooo wet… God…” She was getting frustrated, I knew.

“Because I want you hot. I want you charged.”

She looked over her shoulder at me, still in motion, but slow, a girl’s pout on her flushed face, her full chest moving with the motion of turning. I smacked my palm on her ass, my hardness still pulsing and still very much on my mind, though I did my best to ignore it.

“Fix your lipstick, slave girl,” I said, with a smile, rubbing myself on her rear, teasing myself as well as her.

“Yes master,” she responded, still throaty, still needy, and now probably achy between her legs where I just was, stretching her out. Now there was empty, there. I saw wetness running down her thigh.

I drew her close, coming in behind her as she lifted the lipstick up and worked it skillfully, definitely a darker shade than her usual. As I watched in the mirror, I reached around and tweaked her nipples again, playing with her magnificent orbs.

“Keep the bra and panties off… I have something for you to wear, slave girl.”


“You know what I like about that dress, slave girl?” She was framed by the sun as she returned to our chaise lounges by the expansive pool. Palm trees behind her. The rays shone through her sundress, aptly named, and I could clearly see her feminine shape through the thin fabric.


“It makes you look fresh and innocent, and slutty all at the same time,” I replied with a smile. And it did. The combination of the thin fabric, the cut of the dress itself and the way it just sort of laid on top of her revealed much more than it hid, although it covered much.

She blushed. Her nipples were clear and calling out for attention to anyone who cared to glance in our direction.

“Tell me how it feels,” I said, as she sat in the lounge next to me, adjusting the dress as it rose precariously high, and then crossing her legs. Ninas sandals on her feet.

“I can feel –everything-“


“The air on me,” she closed her eyes, and explored her body with her mind. She lowered her voice a little. “Between my legs, the fabric on my nipples… I know I’m covered, but I feel very…”

“Exposed?” I offered.

“Exposed. Yes, Master.”

“Don’t worry, my slave,” I ran my hand along her leg, near the high hem of her sundress. “I’ll protect you.” I leaned in a bit closer, and whispered to her. “They’re looking at you, you know.”

“I know,” she replied. She probably took a glance at the young men I was referring to, under her sunglasses.

“When you got up last time, all of their eyes followed you.”

“Did they?”

“Oh yes,” I stated, smiling. “I wonder what they were thinking about.”

She fidgeted, a little, shifting as she reclined, feline-like. “I don’t know, Master…”

“I think they’re the same group of young men we saw playing volleyball, just before the reception last night.”

“Maybe,” she said, her voice just a tad distant.

“I’m sure of it. Do you think they’re delicious, slave girl?”

I knew her type, when the discussion ran along these lines. And I knew she knew I did. No reason to keep it from me. Their tight tan young frames on display, boys playing in the bodies of young men.

“Yes, Master”

“I can tell. I know you, girl. I know how your mind works.”

Then, following some alpha in their number, most of the group of them got up, all bare-chested and baggy shorts of various styles, and headed to the bar. Though she was looking straight ahead as I stroked her leg, I suspected she was eyeing them as they walked. One or two glanced towards us, not subtle at all.

“I think I want a drink,” I perked.

“Oh Master, not now, please…” I wondered then if she was really anxious, or if she was just playing at it. Either way, it was delicious in a way I was not very familiar with, but was getting quite accustomed to.


“I’m… I’m..”


“Yes, Master… please don’t make me go up there now.”

Hmmmmm. I pondered. I couldn’t let her control things, certainly. I thought a moment, looking her over. Her nipples must have ached, they stood out so clearly on the stylish floral print.

“Okay.” She seemed to exhale at this, again, I couldn’t read her expression with the large glasses, but her body was electric, teeming with energy.

The boys came back, without drinks, and settled back into their group. After a few moments I spoke.

“Slave girl, go over to them.”

“Those boys?”


“Why?” A hint of alarm in her voice. My eyes went up, in response.

“Go over to them, and tell them I gave you permission to serve them.”

“What??” It was hard to read her; she was definitely flustered at the thought of going over there and saying those particular words to the young men. Her lower lip was out in a sort of pout, and of course her nipples were like rocks under the flimsy material of her sundress. Bet her eyes were covered by the large sunglasses.

“Tell them I gave you permission to serve them, and ask if they need you to bring them something to drink.” Then I had another thought. “Oh, and when you serve it to them, make sure you’re kneeling.”

She paused for a moment, looking to them, then back to me.

“Master…” she began, hushed and somewhat urgent.

I had a clam look on my face, reassuring. “Little slave, today will not be easy,” I smiled at her, gently. “But I have faith in you. Go have a little fun. And I’ll watch over you. I would not let anything harmful happen to my property; I have the situation well in hand. Don’t worry.”

She pursed her lips, and then stood up. She turned and removed the sunglasses, placing them on my lap before she pivoted and strode off directly towards the boys. It might have been just the memory of it, but I could have sworn I caught a whiff of her scent as she drifted away, determined.

I could almost feel her reaction, and I know I was getting –very- turned on thinking about her doing this, how this little moment would play out. I could only imagine seeing her do it. I could almost feel her blushing from here. To hear her say the words, admitting to those young dumbstruck men who’d been ogling her that she’d been ‘given permission’ to serve them… Jesus.

She knelt in front of them, and I could hear, but I watched them lean in immediately. A pause, then they looked at one another, and their expressions definitely changed. A few scooted in a little closer, and there was much animated talking.

I watched her leave, graceful, and every set of eyes from the group following her to the bar where she spoke to the bartender. In a few moments, she had brought a tray full of various drinks to the group of them, stopping when she reached them. I watched her gesture to a towel, and one of the boys almost fell over in an effort to put it on the ground before them.

And with that, my little slave girl got down on her knees, and served each one of the young men who’d been ogling her. Not bad at all, for a first time, I thought.

When she returned to me, she was crimson. And her little points looked like they were going to wear holes through her sundress. The young men must have gotten quite an eyeful, as the dress definitely accented her curves and cleavage.

“You’re breathing hard,” I said. She was. And her cheeks had a deep color not part of the makeup I had made her wear. She sat down, slowly but with effort it seemed to remain slow, or calm. She purposefully did not look over towards the young men.

I did, and they sure as hell were watching us.

I raised my own drink up to them, a few of them waved, most of them smiled.

“I bet if I checked,” I leaned toward her, saying softly, “I bet if I checked you’d be wet as a faucet. A puddle between your legs.”

She was breathing deeply, as if to keep herself under control. “What is happening to me?” she asked, in a bit of a fog. “Jesus…”

“Let’s go, slave girl,” I stood, and she rose almost immediately. “I need to make use of you”

She didn’t need to be told twice. She was up in an instant and following me. As we neared the paths, I chose the one headed to the beach cabanas, not the one that led back to our suite.

“This way,” I said, simply, and she stepped over and followed me obediently.

The resort had an amazing beachfront; the white ribbon of sand stretching off in both directions. It was a great time of year to be here, beautiful and uncrowded. She walked in front of me, and I kept close behind, but I did turn my head to catch a glimpse of the group of young men.

All their eyes were on us, still. I did a sort of guy-nod with my chin, an open-ended gesture, and then turned and scanned for someplace suitable.

It didn’t take long to find a secluded cabana. It was wide, with a queen-sized chaise on it, white linens and large pillows. I adjusted the chaise a bit, so that it was flat like a bed. The roof billowed in the breeze, and while there were no walls to the cabana, the posts on the side were also covered with white linen. A breeze blew through again, bringing the smell of the ocean.

There were palm trees and other plants here and there as well, and the cabana was set back a ways from the beach, so we had a hint of seclusion here, but also a definite out-in-public feel as well.

“Lie on your back, slave, and pull your dress up… show me your pretty little flower.” I stood over her, watching. She reclined back, looking at me, watching my own expression as she brazenly teased the hem of her sundress up, letting her knees fall apart. Her sex was swollen and puffy, and there was wetness between her thighs.

It was everything I could do not to open my own pants and take her, right there and then. I think she saw the look in my eyes, read my body, and was beyond caring where we were. She moved her hips up a little inviting me. I was very much aware of the small tuft of dark  hair between her legs.

I drank her in a bit with my eyes, hands on my hips.

“Mmmm stand up,” I said calmly. She did. “Undress for me, facing away, and lay back down on your tummy and show me yourself”

She moaned, and turned, looking over my shoulder before she faced away, and slowly drew the sundress up and over her head. She stood before me for a moment, her hands tracing over her breasts and then down her ribs and on her hips, as if she were taking stock of all her womanly curves. Then she bent over and crawled on the chaise, laying on her forearms with her rear up just a bit, her knees apart, showing me herself.

Her Ninas were still on, I noted with a smile.

I looked over my shoulder, and saw the group of young men circle around a short distance away. They saw me look and held back, deciding at that moment to head to a nearby unoccupied cabana. From where they settled they had an excellent view of the chaise my sweet little slave girl was lying on, and they were getting quite an eyeful.

“Make yourself cum, sweet girl.”

She moaned again, and lost no time. I saw one arm under her, supporting and probably pulling at her nipples while the other was between her legs, spreading her lips and tracing around the outer edges of her drenched sex. I knelt down beside her, and whispered to her.

“That’s it, little slave… show me yourself. Show me how you cum…” My words trailed off into her ear like a caress of my own. “I love watching you do this, making yourself cum, sweetie…” My eyes to her rear, which was up and moving in small circles as her fingers worked and teased.

“I know what I’d do to you,” I said, “how I’d take you… but when I watch you play, I get to see –exactly- how you want to be touched, exactly your pace. I learn from the best teacher, how you want to be touched…”

She moaned again, now collapsed on her arm, back curved and hips rising and falling as she went. Her breathing was very heavy. So was mine. I was hard as stone in my pants, and throbbing, aching.

I knew the young men were watching her, entranced and silent as ghosts. Ghosts with aching hard ons, I imagined.

“Turn over,” I whispered, and produced the toy I’d brought from out of the beach bag. I wasn’t sure exactly how I’d set this up when I snuck it in there, but I’d been optimistic and packed accordingly. I’d brought along one of her favorite toys, a thick neoprene representation of a male member, straight and soft to the touch but very firm. She turned over and without direction spread her legs, going to work on herself.

She looked exquisite.

She twitched a bit, shocked when I touched the toy to her lips but in the state she seemed to be in, she lost no time. I pushed the head of the faux phallus into her mouth, watching her take it as if it were the genuine article. I moved it in and out, not choking her but giving her more than just the head. She handled it easily, and I gave her more. As she brought herself a bit closer, I used the toy on her mouth more aggressively, as if it were part of a very aroused young man.

She seemed to understand my meaning, and took the toy in with a raw sort of energy, her lips and tongue wrapping around it. When it was soaked from her mouth, I handed it to her.

She didn’t need any further direction.

She was constantly moaning now, moving her hips and rubbing against the toy as if it belonged to someone’s body, she rubbed herself up against it shamelessly, needy and urging. I watched as the thick head of it parted her wet lips, watched her move it up and down her dripping cleft, spreading herself.

“Spread your legs wider,” I told her. “I want to see you do it, slave”

Her legs went wider, and while I had an amazing view of what was going on, I knew the group of young men had no complaints whatsoever; they were getting a full visual feast, there was nothing they could not see, or probably hear.

Her head turned back and forth as she built herself up towards her climax, her brunette ponytail writing behind her head, her tan body splayed out before me. I wondered if she knew about the boys watching her. She was now at a bit of an angle on the chaise, her legs open and her delicious play directly facing the onlookers.

She did know. And the idea made me ache, beyond words.

“No one can hear you, slave. I want you to cum, and I want you to be loud… Do you understand me?”

“Yes… Master…” Her words were gasps, now. She was definitely closing in on an orgasm that would grip her mightily, shake her like a palm tree in a tropical storm. The toy was plunging in now, spreading her wet little furrow and stretching her. I watched her lips squeeze the girth, hanging onto it as the inches disappeared and reappeared. Her body tightened up, she brought herself close to orgasm while I practically erupted in my pants watching her.

“Did you want to cum, last night?” I asked her.


“Did you…?” I insisted

“Yessss…” She moaned, trailing the “s” into something primal sounding that made me tingle.

“Is that why you undid your top for that man, showed him your nipples…?”

“Yessssss… she worked the toy in more feverishly now, deep enough so that I was a bit taken aback. She was working herself over in a very serious way, bending the toy up and down to change the angle, as if someone were on top of her

“I know you’d been drinking… but you are such a slave… so needy…” I rasped, barely maintaining my own composure. The only thing that kept me from jumping on her and violating her with abandon was the delicious rawness of the scene before me.

“Ooooh god…!” She was hanging on now, at the edge, looking over. I could almost taste it.

“You know he would have had you, right there… I would have come up…”

“Ohhhh, Oooooooooh…”

“I would have seen what a slut you were, if he took you… maybe you didn’t mean for it to happen… but he wanted to… Right there…” I leaned in closer, my lips now against her ear as she played furiously, knowing instinctively that she wasn’t to cum without my permission. “I would have watched you… get turned around and bent over and stretched out…”

Her mouth was open now, in a sexy, velvet, dark red “O”. I reached over and tugged on her hair, gripping the ponytail hard. She arched her back with the power of the grasp, still working the toy into herself. She slowed down a bit, leaning over that edge, really stepping out into it

“Just like I’m watching you right now, little slave…”

Her hips bucking as she lay gasping, the toy buried deep, or out almost entirely, shiny slick.

I chanced a look over my shoulders, and the boys had their own lengths out now, all pretense gone, baggy shorts discarded or around their ankles. They weren’t’ touching one another, each one in his own world of lust as they watched what was going on.

She was fighting it now, needing to cum, being defined by the vibrations that were coursing through her body, but she still held on, waiting for the command. Her head tossed side to side with the effort.

“Don’t cum before I say so, slave… I own your cum, just like I own you… don’t you dare…”

“Ooooooooooh Goooood…!” she cried out, as if she were on the highest rollercoaster ever built, and going over the edge. Her teeth and eyes were clamped shut, and now I had my own cock out, unable to restrain myself, rubbing up and down the smooth straight length of it giving myself some measure of physical relief.

“Do you want to cum?” I asked needlessly, building up close myself

“Yes yessssss yessssss yesssssssss Master…” she hissed at me, her hand still working the toy into her sopping wet cleft, legs wide open.

“Do you care who sees you?”


“Release,” I said, simply.

I had no idea where that word came from, but as I said it, she cut the air around up with a cry I’d never heard before. It was –loud-, and she rode it for a while. I watched her whole body shudder and shake as the orgasm took hold of her and shook her like a storm. She was gasping, crying out and splayed on the chaise as she released herself.

I watched, in awe.

My hand was still working, bringing me close to my own release. She was winding down, the toy coming out for a final time and discarded, running with her wetness, now laying between her legs on the chaise in a growing wet spot.

“Keep your legs open,” I said, reaching over as she slowed down more, and stroked her drenched sex. My fingers were instantly dripping, and hot. I was careful, knowing how sensitive she was after something like that. I stroked her outer lips, traced through her matted pubic hair and occasionally slip my fingers along her labia. I brought my dripping fingers to her face, and rubbed her cheeks, marking her again.

“Mmmmmmm” She purred. Her eyes opening just a bit, she smiled easy and free. Noticing my state, without a word, she rolled and took me fully into her mouth like a woman possessed.

I watched her in the moments that I hung on, feeling her lips and tongue on me, feeling her suck my orgasm straight into herself with that amazing mouth of hers. I held the back of her head as I shot, sending rope after rope of thick fluid into her mouth. I bucked several times, emptying myself into her, and she took every drop, spilling none of it.

She purred again after she’d swallowed it, looking up at me and then lying back on the chaise. She brought her hands up behind her head and let her legs fall casually, wantonly open, knowing I’d look down at her aching flower, her body lying open before me.

“I think your slave name will be… Lilah,” I pronounced after I’d recovered, the “i” long. The name felt right.

“Yes Master.”

“I think we saw Lilah last night, didn’t we? She’s very needy, and very naughty. But that’s okay,” I said, as she curled up and drew me close. “I know how to handle her just fine.”

“Yes, Master…”