We do not have long. Just a few minutes snatched from our busy lives. A last minute change of venue has given us a location that will allow the privacy we crave. The moment I open the door we fall upon one another. Devouring each other's lips and mouths like ravenous animals. I love the way He kisses me. He holds nothing back: takes ownership of my mouth and I melt into His arms, His body, His mind. From that moment my senses take over. All I see, hear, touch, smell and taste is Him.
I'm dressed in work clothes, carefully chosen as I knew these minutes had been arranged. I am ready for Him in every way. His texts have ensured that these few minutes have been fully prepared for and not a single one will be wasted. My outward appearance belies the wantonness that lies within. Unseen, beneath this professional facade, His gifts adorn my body. He will see them, feel them, use them, soon. Oh please soon!
He sends me up the stairs ahead of Him. Midway His hand adjusts my skirt, hitching it higher so He can best take advantage of the spectacle of my ascent. The black lace of my stocking tops ring my thighs, the creamy flesh above flashes as I climb steadily. He hitches the skirt higher still until by bare behind is revealed for His personal titillation. No words are spoken: no permission asked. My presence here states my acquiescence. My silence shouts my submission to His will.
I lead Him to a room with a low sofa. He kisses me again: owning my mouth once more. I respond with ardour, feeling the sensations sparking through my body, giving everything of myself to Him. He checks my swell of passion, draws away and sends me to my knees before settling Himself comfortably on the sofa. From my lowly position I look up at Him with adoring eyes. I sense these minutes are to be purely His. My heart swells, I am replete, my desire is only to make Him happy.
With a minimum of words His wishes are conveyed and I assist in freeing His proud member from the restraints of His jeans. He lies back as I begin my task. I kneel before Him, my hands steadying my lowly position. My mouth, my lips, my tongue: the only tools I am allowed to use to pleasure Him. I use my tools as best I can. Stroking and caressing, engulfing and probing, long sweeping strokes and gentle lapping licks. There is nothing else in the room Only Master's cock and His cockwhore's mouth.
He likes it deep and I obey as best I can, but He is always greedy for more, expects more, insists I give more. As I kneel impaled upon His horn, my face buried deep in His groin, inhaling His manhood, His unyielding hands hold my position, ensuring there is no escape until He chooses. I begin to fight for breath, His hands are resolute. 'A little more.' I hear His voice. It is a statement. There is no negotiation. I still my struggling and give Him a little more, just as He knew I could. Then finally I am released. I hurriedly suck the air in, refreshing my lungs; and quickly I resume my task. Our minutes are ticking by, and my hunger for Him is in no way satiated.
I am aware that clothing has been removed. Did I assist? My senses are consumed by Him, my mind has no room for anything else. His hand runs down my back, tracing the contours of my body, pulling me closer in to Him than I thought possible. He raises my backside so that I am on all fours, I do not break from my task. I feel the brush of leather across my rear. A slow sensual stroking of the supple belt that was so recently around His waist. I sense the folding of the leather into His hand, I hear the swish of the strap as it arcs through the air, I feel the bite of its tongue as it laps my tender flesh. My cries are most perfectly stifled, not a sound escapes: Master's cock provides the most perfect of gags.
The sting of each stroke renews my focus. I am His and here only to serve Him. The sensations consume my mind. The beating is not intense, it sets my nerves tingling and my juices flowing. He knows the effect it will have on me only too well. I gorge myself on His member waiting to see if He will punish or reward His girl for her outrageous horniness.
He re-positions the belt around my torso, strapping my breasts to my chest, he pulls hard, securing me tightly and providing a handle for Himself. He moves now, pushing me forwards so my face falls into the warm hollow where he so recently sat. He binds my hands: a Velcro tie immobilising me still further. His breath by my ear informs me that I did not quite reach the hour mark upon my task. My time has not been in vain though, the effects of my labours are clear to me. He drives deep into me, using me completely, holding nothing back. He is bestial in His actions and His deep guttural utterances.
His peak comes, exploding deep within me. Time stops. There are no minutes, hours or days. There is only US. Deeply and sensually connected: We transcend time.
But what minutes! Count them by sensation, and not by calendars, and each moment is a day. ~Benjamin Disraeli