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From: daftwader@aol.com (DaftWader)
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Subject: {ASSM} Requited Thirsts (M/F - light BDSM - no sex)
Date: Tue, 29 Feb 2000 21:10:03 -0500
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If you decide to pass this on, please let the authorship be retained.
Requited Thirsts
Their thirsts could be mutually requited, she thought as she pictured his
outline from behind the shower door. The picture in her mind suggested that
someone only need to slip within view to see his rising interest. She stood
there, watching, barely able to contain her needs. Nothing would have pleased
her more at that moment than to slip into that shower with him. To wash every
inch of her Master, ensuring his bath time to be most pleasurable.
As she opened the heavy glass door she could feel her presence was unnoticed.
Master could only hear the shower pouring over him, caressing his body from
head to toe. She knew he needed nothing more than a full body massage and good
nights sleep to rid him of the weeks stress. While she lathered her hands she
could only play across a scene in her mind. Her hands covering him, exploring
each inch of flesh.
"Stop masturbating now, girl, and get out of that shower," he shouted, breaking
into her fantasy. "Come here at once."
She hastily pulled a towel around her from draping it as carefully as she could
to conceal her damp breasts with the modesty of a submissive summoned to her
Master's side. She knew that he would be standing in front of those damnable
windows again and would require her to stand there in full and tempting view of
the courtyard, the fields and the outlying houses of the town.
He was fully dressed while she was damp and slightly shivery in the evening
sun. So she already felt at a slight disadvantage. She hoped that he did not
insist on her letting the towel fall to the floor and at the same time prayed
that he would. She wanted to feel the humiliating warmth creeping over her
face as she blushed in embarrassment at her nakedness before the world. Now if
he were to open those windows just a tad then they would all be able to see her
- what a delicious thought.
"Open the windows pet," his voice broke into her thoughts - her fantasy come
true perhaps. "Let's allow the spring in shall we?"
And once again they were looking out at the same view but from that slightly
different angle. Her perspective of a delightful and very public denouement
was a thing she had made her own. She possessed it as much as the submissive
space that she had personalised at those peaks of pleasure and chasms of pain
that she wanted him always to inflict upon her. The fine angle that separated
her from her owner led her to chafe at the occasional constraints that he had
just imposed on her again
"You would not dare, Master," she complained in a whispered protest.
"I dare to do anything with regard to your sweet but slutty self, my pet, " he
smirked, throwing the windows open himself. The current of air cooled her face
and relaxed her even as her damp hair was gripped by his powerful fist. She
dropped the towel and stood there naked bar her collar until he pressed her
down to her knees. She smiled up at him and he recalled how much she liked
this enforced act of contrition, even if it did deny her the public exhibition
that she sought.
"If only you could elevate your thoughts to a slightly higher plane for once,"
he added, laughing out loud, reaching out to pull her back to her feet. He was
always amused at the way she delighted in the gentle tortures that he
inflicted, even though he recognised in her occasional sighs that perhaps she
wished his desecrations were a little more formidable.
"I can hardly elevate myself, Master, when you are always holding me down," she
complained but still she took his hand. Reluctantly, she stood and looked past
him through the window. Her thoughts roved into the distance rather than the
heights, musing that so long as each of those acts of contrition and every
sundry desecration was veiled in romantic silks, it would feel divine.
"You love it pet and don't you dare deny it - and put that towel round yourself
you disgusting trollop."
"I dare to do anything with regard to your sweet but slutty self, my Master,"
she parroted coolly and cringed, awaiting the sting of retribution. She
enjoyed the anticipation of the moment and the tenderness he showed by not
delivering it. She willingly submitted to his complete control with regard to
romantic interludes and to subtleties that would muffle each wicked opportunity
for her to let loose with eager squeals.
He was too focused on other matters to deliver any blow. He was observing how
her beauty seemed to combine the strange wispy tangle of her hair, the pale
music of her voice, the brilliant agate of her eyes and ripe peach of her
complexion - a true life synergy. Her stillness and the dying rays of the sun
brought out that unique combination, creating an ephemeral statue.
He inhaled her perfume knowing that the freshness created a conflict. She was
not entirely unaware that her very presence built a powerful counter-force to
his endeavours to startle his pet - to pull her suddenly from her dubious
fleshly obsessions to fine asexual images conjured in the ether.
He would only tolerate such insidious rebellion so far. At least it was
through delicate scent rather than through her customary pouting expression.
The prospect of her mouth twisted in a little moue of revolt quickly faded as
she saw him playing irritably with the strange new combination of pig and
snakeskin molded to form a handle to his new and still untested whip. He
touched the handle and then ran his hand up along the leather flail, feeling
the weight of the implement with seemingly infinite patience and unfathomable
pleasure at the trembling that it induced in her.
"Perhaps," he conceded, "I shall hide this hooded pigsnake whip until it is
required to restore your confidence amongst strangers. I can almost hear your
startled yelps already."
She looked at him rather doubtfully.
"You are dubious but not startled?"
"Dubious, yes and perhaps more than a little anxious at the prospect of public
whipping that you taunt me with again," she admitted. She paused and added in
what she construed to be the sophisticated tone of a true roue, undermined alas
by her overpowering eagerness: "I prefer not to be startled, unless you wish
it, whenever you wish it, so do pray tell me when?"
"My dear, always remember that you pray - no you beg - and I may one day tell."
"I do beg, and I plead one day you will tell."
"And I will not let chance be fleeced or erroneous signals be given - you are
not due a whipping yet," he determined and the whip vanished swiftly into the
top drawer of a large tallboy despite her muted protests.
"To beg for you is a reward in itself," she murmured, lowering her eyes to the
floor but blinking frustrated tears away in a flurry of vulnerable passion.
She knelt there posed, smooth throat lifted like an offering, framed quite
effectively in the softer light of rosy evening sky, discreetly shaded by
antique beaded curtains that fringed the window. So very still.
Though her head was lowered her mind wandered to view the scene from his angle
to gain a common understanding, watching him paint her more beautiful than she
could ever hope to be. He might sometimes be a gracious and giving Master
whether he looked down, deep and dark upon her or not. His glances when
confronted with recalcitrant, objectionable complaint could be soul piercing.
For the most part, they were knowing and worldly wise. It was a wisdom that
she in her servitude was ever eager to share.
She could be placid at times and overly erotic at others. Yet she was always
eager in her thirst for further knowledge. The smiles that she discerned
infrequently on his lips were varied. She wanted to be the one to discover the
meaning behind the enigmatic persona that he sought to convey. She knew that
there was something imperceptibly wonderful there.
"You dine with the girl again tonight, I understand."
"Yes, Master."
"Well, even if there is something wonderful concealed in her robes, you with
confine your wandering fingers and dip them in other pies."
"Oh Master," she said disappointedly. "Why can I not taste her?"
"She might be shocked by the lustful images that you desire to be conjured
around her soft form."
"But, you are the conjurer," she replied coyly, letting her fingers wander
across the table. She ran them along the fine grain of the wood, finding a
convenient knot hole and slipping her finger in and out of the oaken recess.
She let the finger slide to the knuckle into the tight hole and then out and in
again with penetrating force, so that it almost stuck there.
He leant forward, bent over and glanced under the table top. She giggled and
let her finger wriggle in the air, before pulling it from the hole and sucking
it into her mouth. The wooden grip had pinched her finger, but the minor ache
did not stop her from letting the wicked digit slip in and out of her mouth,
clearly reminiscent of other organs that had frequented that hot cavern.
"Just you make sure you don't stick your wandering fingers into any pies
tonight my naughty pet - and most certainly not the girl's sweet pie."
"Oh you," she pouted truculently, thinking how her play acting had just been a
small contribution to the effort to relieve her needs. She turned away from
him, still sucking her finger, letting the tip slip girlishly into the corner
of her mouth. She would just have to be civilised that evening. She would just
have to write off the desires in the secret script in her head then.
"Most of my passions in respect of the girl were fanned by you, Master," she
said, managing an ironic smile, tentatively emulating his sometimes
dispassionate jibes.
"That is as maybe but there will be no ecstatic dancing to drums around a
blazing bonfires tonight, my dear," he insisted. "Can you not be tranquil for
once and absorb the fact that I only lead where you desire to follow."
"You do," she agreed, straddling an invisible line, the limits of which only
she and he could define precisely. "You know my desires and my heart like an
open book you have read a thousand times."
"Let those fantasies revolve and expand as they help you stay up at nights
watching a full moon laugh," he offered charitably.
"I shall Master," she vowed, giggling to herself as she considered herself
bending to remove her petticoats, ready and waiting for him. She would not
stand erect waiting. She would let the view of the rounded plum of her
backside greet him. By touching her feet and elevating her backside invitingly,
she would soon know that her Master was behind her waiting to give her the
relief that her own moons desired.
Such fantasies would not carry her on his designated path, but they were
certainly fun. Let her be high minded and free-spirited another time. The image
of splashing through uncharted streams, diving into the depths and opening her
eyes to new views underwater would be enduring, but it would be an image so
much better learned with a good spanking. Surely her Master realised that.
Of course he did and she hardly ever needed to look over her shoulder before
knowing instinctively that he was there. He was just waiting to open her eyes
to an entire world of pleasure mixed with enriching smarting. And goodness,
the blows from his new whip would certainly be an eye opener. He would there
for the duration of her punishment. No disconnected lash would fall on her
pert backside, but the full force of her accumulated teasings would accrue upon
her bared flanks.
There would be no equivocation while her smiles remained sincere. Assured of
that, he would whip away the dark clouds from her horizon on the back of the
wind, crisscrossing her back and her buttocks with the hallmarks of his
ownership.
His drive would enable her to find the wings of delight that would catch that
breeze. At the same time she knew that he had leashed her to protect her from
her own ebullient desires. He would not have her burning out by flying to
absurd heights and plummeting to the icy depths of depression and abandonment.
Tethered to his gentle care, she would join him as they achieved new horizons.
She would be permitted to stand at his side finally to view fresh joys from the
precisely the same perspective, looking outwards together, no margin separating
them - Master and pet - their passions and their thirsts mutually requited.
DW
c3/00
Be kind to your web footed fiends
--
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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