Drinking Wine

The shivers run down my spine as I read the text. Just the briefest of details: no clothing, just the flimsiest of silky robes: no underwear, just stockings: no heels. Collar and all cuffs to be in place. Mouth and cunt wet, inviting and ready for use.

I love to get His texts, they never fail to arouse and excite me. There is something so erotic in being told exactly how He wants me to present myself. I am always left with some element of choice: some decision to make, but He owns the vision of how I will be.

Carefully I make my choice of stockings and robe. Although He hasn't mentioned them, I clip the silver nipple shields into place; they are a given: a long standing order: I wear them whenever I am with Him. I turn my attention to my hair. It has grown quite long now and if He is going to use my mouth I will need to tie it back. I briefly contemplate pig-tails, a look which He adores, but too cheeky and impish for tonight I think, and so I opt for a simple ponytail.

I examine myself critically in the mirror: and swap the robe for another. It is longer, but pure silk and I like the way it follows the soft contours of my body; exaggerating the peaks of my nipples as they stand proudly presented for my Dom. For a final touch I cut a short length from the purple ribbon that is in my drawer and tie it around the ponytail-band. I am ready.

I hear His car pull into the driveway and am at the door before He has time to press the bell. I love the way His face lights up when He sees me. I love the feel of the heat of His hands through the flimsy silk, stroking my silhouette as He drinks in the sight of me with all His senses.

He steers me through the open doorway, into the room that I have made ready with glasses and wine; and then I am on my knees before Him.

He has trained my mouth well: now like a conductor, he orchestrates my mouth, lips and tongue with gestures, movements and only the minimum of words. Before we met my mouth had been used little and I tired easily. Although I do not yet know it, tonight he will make use of my mouth for a full 90 minutes and still I will have more to give.

He is drinking the wine as He stands before me; occasionally I am allowed a sample: He dips His engorged cock into the glass and I lap and suck the liquid off His member, catching the dribbling liquid with my tongue. Too soon He is too erect to perform this manoeuvre again and instead He tips the cool wine into my mouth before following it with His manhood.

I must use all the tools I have at my disposal to please Him. On rare occasions I may use my hands but it is not such an occasion tonight. Tongue, lips, mouth and throat: He owns them: He owns me; and like any good owner, He knows that when He pushes me, when He stretches and challenges me, I will try harder. At the moment I feel I have to stop, have to breathe, His hand holds my position, and as always, He is right and I give a little more.

He changes position and I find that sweet spot below His balls. I lick and suck and feeling the involuntary thrust of His hips, smile secretly, knowing that I have pleased my Master well. Despite His pleasure He remains, as always, in control: of me and of Himself. There is no ultimate gift in my mouth tonight.

The wine is almost empty. My robe lies discarded where it fell. He crooks a finger through a ring on my collar and pulls me to my feet. Slowly, softly, He leads me up the stairs to bed.

Velvet <3

His shirt

He didn't mean to, but he left His shirt behind. I found it in the morning when I rose, adorning one of the bed knobs. I held it to my face, inhaling the lingering scent, a smile radiating across my face. I always seek out the faint traces that he leaves in His departing wake: the warm dip in the pillow: the glass that His lips so recently touched: the towel that wrapped His body after the shower. A shirt is treasure indeed, and I hug it to me until at last I too must leave the house.

It's there when I return. In the evening I slide into it, revelling in having Him wrapped around me. Held once more in His embrace I relax and smile. My mind wanders to the memories of the night before and I am happy.

I am never happier than when I am His: never happier than when I freely submit to Him and willingly serve Him. The moments of the evening fade in my mind, what remain are the deep emotions. I inhale deeply and close my eyes. I feel Him still in my mouth: taste Him on my tongue, I crave Him deeply. In my mind I am kneeling before Him once more. He is using my mouth, owning every part of me and every part of me wants to be His and to worship Him.

My heart swells in my chest, my body is no longer able to contain the emotions. Even as I smile I feel the silent tears making rivulets down my cheeks. I hug His shirt around me closer, sinking deeper into His loving embrace; sinking deeper into my bittersweet dreams.

I feel the bonds around my arms, the burning sear of the crop across my cheeks, the unrelenting bite of the clamps on my nipples, the tightening of the leather at my throat; and through it all the aching passion burning between my legs. My body will tell Him no lies: just lying here with my dreams it does not lie. Though I crave release, I do not touch. My body is His property and not my own.

I pull His shirt up over my face, smothering myself in the last of His lingering scent. Less than a day and I already miss Him so deeply. In my dreams I call to Him: "Come back soon. Own me again and make me come alive." And together we sink down into bittersweet dreams.

Velvet <3

Come to the Edge...

I am afraid. Excited, intoxicated, adrenalin pumping through my body, but nevertheless... I am afraid. We have not known each other long. Distance and circumstance keep our meetings limited, His playroom all too often lying fallow as we snatch an evening at a motel that cuts our journey time. But today we have engineered an open ended block of time. Today He has collected me from the station and brought me to His lair. Today He has already tormented me with pleasures that have made me gasp: tied and twisted the body I have given to Him: yet still He leads me closer to the edge.

Blindfold He leads me forwards. I falter, stumbling a little, uncertainty combining with the rush of blood returning to feet that have been kneeling. The cuffs are already on my ankles and my wrists, the collar firmly round my neck from moments after we entered His house. He halts me, raises my arm and deftly locks the clip in place. His hand guides my fingers to the wooden bar, gratefully I grasp it as I feel Him pull my other arm upwards. Upwards and out. He spreads my body, arms stretched wide, I know the same fate awaits my legs.

He positions my body for best advantage. Legs further back so that my back arches and my posterior thrusts towards Him. I final humiliating twist, He places the pony bit gag in my mouth and fastens it tightly. I am new to this device. I still fight against the saliva that fills my mouth, I have not yet learnt how much He loves to see His toy drool, I have not yet accepted totally that I am His, not yet learnt to love whatever gives Him pleasure. For now I fight the moisture in my mouth, tipping my head back to swallow it as best I can.

He strokes my body and I tingle at His touch. My nerves are tightly coiled: senses heightened by my loss of sight, I strain to add pictures to the scene that I can only feel and hear. The softest touch of leather brushes my skin, as velvet soft as my name it caresses my open body. Goosebumps flush across my body both with delight and with fearful anticipation; this is not my first introduction to the deerskin flogger, and a little knowledge can be a dangerous thing. Master's floggers are not lone implements, they live on His shelf in families...

I hear the swish, I feel the deerskin, the first falls are on my provocative cheeks. They are light, repetitive, a rhythm that warms my flesh to a delicate blush. I smile softly as I feel the dampness grow between my legs, my body unable to lie about the affect this has on me. He switches attention to my shoulders. At first I tense. My back and shoulders are unused to discipline, they were virgin territory for Master's tools and in these early days are still sensitive. I swallow down the mild panic I feel, breathing deeply to calm my knotting stomach.

Steadily it grows. It is not the force but the repetition that slowly builds. Each kiss of the falls adding its rosy glow to the blush of those beneath. The minutes grow. Pink turns to red. I press my face against the polished wood of the door, my mind fighting my body to remain in position. He pauses. I breathe and shift position, hoping against hope that we are finished. 

What foolish thoughts. I hear the swish almost at the same time as I feel the bite. A senior member of the flogger family has come out to make me dance. The heavy thud sends my shoulders flat against the door. Steadily the licks find the raw flesh of my body. The tails curl around my lithe body as, despite my bonds, I twist: no longer listening to my mind's warnings to stay still. My breasts pay the price for my movement. His voice by my ear commands me calmly to be still. He pauses, repositions my feet, my hips, makes sure I am suitably presented once more before He proceeds.

The warm up is over. The speed and severity increase. I grasp the bar tightly with my hands. My body presses hard against the door, fighting to get away from the leather that rains down on me. He pauses again. As I return automatically to a position of presentation I feel His hand on me, in me. His fingers test and probe me, then He brings them to my mouth, smearing my flowing juices on the the lips of my gagged mouth. 

He begins again. The intensity notches up once more. This time He does not stop. My moans turn into groans. My knees buckle and tears leak from beneath the blindfold. My breaking voice falters past the gag pleading for Him to stop. His voice, controlled and measured informs me that He will take me just a little further. His belief strengthens me: I trust Him totally, I will not fail Him.

 

The speed quickens and finally I let go of everything. The endorphins rush through me and release me from my bonds. Sensation is everything: there is no world, no pain, no limit, there are only soaring heights and ecstasy. He has invited me to the edge, gently pushed me over, and together we have flown.

I sob, exhausted against the door. He holds me close as He releases the clips. Gently He guides me to His bed. He enfolds me in His arms, softly caressing me He whispers beautiful soothing words into my hair. Consumed by love, I melt into His body. There is no Him, the is no me, there is only US.

'Come to the edge', He said.

        She said, 'I am afraid'.
'Come to the edge', He said.

        She came.
He pushed her...
       And she flew. 

                               - Guillaume Apollinaire

 

Velvet <3

The Closeness of His Collar

Usually He takes it with Him. As He kneels beside the bed, roles reversed for once, He will lean over, kiss me and gently remove it from around my neck. Usually it is the last thing that He does in the last lingering moments before He leaves. Already late as we know the traffic will be bad and He has too many miles to cover in too short a time. My neck strangely bare, I roll into the dip left by His body and breathe in His lingering scent from the pillows, trying to hold on to some part of Him. Not yet ready to return to who I am when He is not here.

But this time was different. He ran His fingers along the curve of my neck; He smiled at me and kissed me. I thought at first that He had forgotten, but no, He said He wanted to retain that beautiful image. To picture His sub as He drove, lying naked in her bed wearing nothing but His collar. He pressed His lips onto mine, inhaled the provocative aroma of the leather one last time, and then He was gone. His other life claiming Him once more.

It was hard, so hard, to be the one to take the collar off. I left it for as long as I possibly could. I lay sleepily dreaming in my bed, reliving the events of the previous evening and night, caressing this part of Him that He had left, with my fingertips. When at last I arose, His collar stayed in place as I carried out my ablutions and carefully dressed for the day ahead. At last I could delay the task no longer and slowly unbuckled the strap and unfurled the leather from around my neck. As He had done earlier, now it was my turn to lift the strap to my nose and inhale deeply. Carefully I coiled the leather into my hand, and more than a little wistfully, I placed it in the drawer of my bedside cabinet.

The day passed. Evening came, and we spoke, as we always do, on the phone. As the call ended I replaced the receiver on the cabinet and immediately was drawn to open the drawer and lift out the precious collar. At first I meant only to hold it in my hands, but the natural fit was snuggly around my neck and it was only minutes before that was where it rested. At once I was with Him once more. At once I was at peace, and calm and happy. I sent a text to tell Him what I had done. He was so very pleased. Although apart, we were together; although separated, we were close; although alone, we were at once US.

There is such comfort in the closeness that His collar brings. We both feel it. 

It has now become a nightly ritual for me. Going upstairs and wrapping that closeness around my neck. Lying on my bed and closing my eyes. I am transported to a different realm, a land where we are always together, where I am always His. I am wrapped in His blissful care; I surrender to Him, and in return He melts the trials and tribulations of my day away. I think of nothing... only Him. There is nothing... only Him. His leather warms my bare neck. I close my eyes ... He whispers in my ear and caresses my skin. He is so close.

Wednesday was such a dreadful day at work. I came home and ranted and raved to the empty walls, venting my frustration and stamping around the house. I went on all evening, until at last I climbed the stairs. I went straight to the drawer and took out the collar. At once I was calm. At once I could let go. At once I was just His sub with nothing else to think about. It is such a powerful symbol of our closeness. It shuts the world out as effectively as a blindfold. Instead of looking out, I look deep inside. There I find peace. Peace and happiness. He is close and I am His.

Usually I miss Him dreadfully when He is not here, especially weeks when I am all alone. This week has been so different. This week I have felt Him with me every day. This week I have had the closeness of His collar.

Velvet <3

Sometimes...

There are some lines from songs that stick with me forever. The rest of the lyrics make no connection, just one line, one refrain, that permeates my mind... and a smile leaches across my face...

'Sometimes, when I look deep in your eyes, I swear I can see your soul...'

What will He see when He looks into my eyes? What does my soul say about me? Laid bare for Him both literally and emotionally...

At first I was not allowed to look, not even snatch a glance: the soft lambswool that lined the blindfold hiding the scene from me: a further layer of black tape wound round and round my skull: extinguishing even the faintest glimmer of light.

I could only wait... listen... every sound intensified by my sight deprivation. Every touch intensified... from the softest brush of His lips against my skin... to the bite of the cane across my derriere...

But there are times now when he likes to look down at me... calling my eyes up to meet His. I kneel before Him... waiting... attentive... the instruction may just be a gesture...

I look up into His eyes, and feel His gaze penetrating me... boring deep into me... into my soul...

What does He see?

Deep in my soul is what He already knows...

That I am His. Not sometimes... Always...

Velvet <3

The First Gift

I knew already: I knew from the IM's, I knew from the texts but when the picture message arrived my heart skipped a beat. "For me?" I questioned, scarcely able to believe it. "Really? For me?" 


The confirmation that yes this was for me was the affirmation that I needed. So in tune, so perfectly in tune. My very first loving gift from M ...and we had not yet met...

The first gift