Daughter of Sparta: part I

detail-of-head-of-helen-P (2)As a child of Sparta, I always felt isolated. We celebrated militarism, austerity and athletic strength of which things I could find nothing to love. Raised to be mother to soldiers and run a household alone, while my husband lived in the barracks and returned home secretly at night, I found joy only in music, dance and the potential ideas that might transform our military state. These ideas, I learned early, were not popular among our people. They liked what they knew, we were extremely devout to our patron gods, with our diligent military regime we could do no wrong. I could see the potential wrong, but my ideas were laughed at. So, I kept them still, within, and focussed my desired ‘athleticism’ on dance but unlike the other Spartan girls I did not compete for favour. None of them moved like I and I would not move like they insisted I should. My parents despaired even to marry me, wondering if I would live with them forever or wind up a helot (slave) when they eventually passed to the underworld. Yet I yearned and plotted a secret plan that emerged in my heart, a hope that I may yet save my ‘misplaced’ soul. When I reached the age of promising, when I knew there would be no ‘sane’ Spartan suitor to request my hand, I took myself to my beloved glade, where I alone celebrated through dance to all gods and goddesses that would hear my wayward words. For the first time I raised an altar, before I had simply danced and sung but now I laid down the appropriate incense and wine coupled with drops of my own blood before I expressed my prayers and began to dance. I intended to dance all day, all night, to dance however long it took for the gods to see me and decide it was worthwhile to them to intervene.

 

I danced a very long time; my lips were drying, and my limbs weary to failure, yet my will would not desist. I cried out with my entire soul to Ares, celebrating our military history and honouring our connection to him, I called to Athena, celebrating the wisdom she offers our military intention and imploring she would head my prayers, I called to Apollo lamenting that his prophetic vision did not visit our nation of strength often enough. I called, cried, lamented and danced my devotion for hour upon hour. At the point where my strength was nearly completely waned, I stumbled but righted myself and continued, then an ecstasy alighted me, blinding light filled my grove and a hand reached from behind me covering my eyes. Another hand reached around my waist and stilled my movement, I was spent and the arm that embraced me held me upright. A voice resonant of honeyed wine and ancient life spoke gently, as a caress to me; “child, be still, you have danced long and well, I am here, and I would take your sight briefly that I can be here in my full light without taking your vision forever.” I sighed and relaxed deeply into the embrace of the Olympian who held me, this surrender was my consent, who needed eyes to speak with a god! I heard an odd sound beside me, of tree limbs reaching and becoming entangled. The firm arms were replaced by tree limbs that grasped for me and embraced me yet also contained me, a moment of fear flared within me, yet the Olympian voice assured me this surrender was my destiny and his desire. Bereft of sight and trained from infanthood to be wary my other senses rallied to replace my lack of vision. I heard the steps of the earthbound god, I could smell god forced green growth and a lush tone that I could only relate to newly forged gold. I licked my dry lips and prayed my countenance was not ill after so much toil in dancing. “Hush mortal, these things are small compared to your desire for your people. You would dare to call upon the gods, who are content with the love of your people, to assist you in steering your people to a different path?” Humbled, I wondered how I had the audacity to plead my case so fervently, yet I persisted, I knew that my desires were constant, and the gods favour was not. I answered, hoping my mortal voice did not waver too much or give credence to my fears. “My Lord, I fear my people are short-sighted, without music and genuine expression, with only military training and limited intellectual pursuit, relying on helots to tend out crops I see our people are doomed for failure. I crave more than this for Sparta and believe with her diligence we can deliver much, much more.” There was silence for a time during which I felt only the branch tips becoming vines reaching further along my limbs, increasing their hold upon me, I was now bound firmly in place my ankles spread wide, my waist supported but pushed forward, my arms spread outward yet held so I could relax into this odd pose. I began to realise my exposure, the short dresses we wore meant the posture I was in laid my buttocks bare, I no longer had any limb free to move and defend myself if it were necessary. Again, his divine voice reassured me that my surrender was the sacrifice for his favour to my intentions. Once more I submitted but girded my resolve.

His voice emanated as if from everywhere, yet I could track his movement around my grove. His voice betrayed excitement, engaging my wit as I was aware of how bargains with the immortal gods could be laced with poison, I was not concerned for my lifetime but the potential within my womb. “I have heard your supplication and intend to bless your people through your immediate lineage so long as you heed my desires. Shall I name them?” I wet my lips, this was more than I had dreamed of! Yet, I must keep my mortal head, what if his terms were more than I could live up to? Then all was for naught. I must hear and be sure the terms could be honoured before giving accord. “My Lord, I know not which Lord honours me, please outlay your terms openly and fairly along with your true name that I may be sure my lineage may uphold our agreement.” His laugh was magical, it lured me to forget all argument and get on to the joys he suggested but my will was strong, at least I imagined it so, and I held fast awaiting his true response in words. “A will such as yours will not be swayed with mere Olympian godhead, and is as should be, the deal we strike is for the fruit of your womb as much as for you. My terms are simple, Spartan women do not require maidenhead for marriage, I shall have yours and restore it and reclaim it as often as I choose. This grove shall be ours alone until age comes upon you, then a temple shall be erected here in my and your name, this name we will create as a lesser god of the local realm, if you please me I do not intend for you to age in normal years and you will live as a lesser god. Your womb shall be blessed with demi-gods and mortals alike, your lineage shall stretch out long before you, but the mate you take shall always accept that you have a lover, I will not be an Ares belittled, I will be accepted by your mortal mate, do not fear, one of power and suitability shall come to your parents with offer within a few days. More simply still, I will not have your head shorn in marriage, I delight in your full head of hair. If you can obey me in these things then my blessing you shall have and lover you will become to Apollo, renamed Apollo Amyklaios for our meeting.”

This sounded simple enough, yet what suitor would accept such terms and how was Apollo so sure? Yet who was I to question the god of prophesy? I started to see how he hoped to best his brother Ares, our current patron, and not be disgraced for his lack of cleverness with the taking of lovers. Yet I must press… “Lord Apollo, you offer this mortal and her people great boon, yet I must be brazen ask how will my potential mate know of our encounters and not be shamed like your brother Ares?” His laughter now was so deep and natural I knew my question pleased him deeply. Once settled he replied: “Your mate is destined to see all encounters whether in person or if he is distant he will view them as the prophets see. He will see all and will know all when he asks for you. He is the kind of man that is not belittled by his mate having a lover, he will be the kind that feeds from this.” As a virgin and not being a man I did not know this was possible but the Lord of Prophecy was telling me this in his god voice, he took my sight thus he could be in his full presence meaning he only spoke truth and I trusted this. Perhaps I should not, yet I did. Without knowing I would say it, my voice spoke up; “My Lord Apollo, we have an accord.”

His response was indescribable, the limbs and vines that held me thrummed and shuddered then his hands were upon my face, softly as a lover expressing his devotion before something deeper and more bestial took him. My outstretched face was met with his divine shaft, having no previous experience he coaxed me through but I found an eagerness within me to taste and consume his godly length, deep moans of pleasure erupted from within me that I initially constrained but he encouraged so I let them free. The motion of his strokes upon my eager and sensitive lips brought about such desire within me I felt it would never be satiated. Eventually he spilled his seed within my mouth and I was struck with the enormity of what we had set in place, he stroked my face gently and commanded I imbibe his seed. Once I had obeyed him, I realised this was what he needed to instill the change within my form. I became aware of the minutia within me that began to evolve, Apollo was calm whilst I experienced this change of being, exchanging mortality for something else, foreign yet welcome, yet terrifying. Apollo strummed his lute and sang of my calling him ending the song with something I will never forget, not only the change of my mortality but the addition of wings to my form. As soon as he sang them they erupted from my shoulders. Golden, I could smell the molten gold, the pain was indescribable.

 

More to come…

 

Words by Errant Satiety inspired by Circe a novel by Madeline Miller and Michael at Dionsyian Experience

Image of Helen of Sparta (Helen of Troy)

Part II here

Shodo

Traditional_Calligraphy_by_TattooTemple

My body your canvas

Living words of ecstasy

Passion between souls

words errant satiety image courtesy of TattooTemple on deviantART

Learning to Kneel (part two, erotic fiction)

Part one here

Dear readers of my erotica, apologies for the delay in the continuation of this story. I have been busy and unable to complete this part until now.

Please note that this post contains Dominant and submissive themes that may be offensive to some readers and pleasurable for others. This piece is possibly unsafe for work…

Now, to the story…

We met several times after our discovery of one another. There were several coffees in as many different cafes and a meeting at a bar. In between we emailed and messaged to discuss who were and what we wanted. Then he invited me to dinner. He came to my house to collect me.

As I paced somewhat nervously I heard his voice downstairs politely introducing himself to my landlady. When I greeted him at my door he carried a bag and a blue rose. This was an attention to detail, he knew that these roses were very special to me. He handed me the rose and asked if he might come in.

His gaze took in my open plan single bedroom apartment with one sweep. He placed the bag next to my coffee table, smiling as he did so.

“This is something I intend to leave here. For later.” I nodded wondering what he thought of my home. I knew it was tidy and clean although run down from age.

“You keep a good home little one.” I sighed in relaxed contentment.

“Now, will you join me for dinner?” His eyebrows rose in question and I smiled and laughed at his proffered arm. I nodded “Yes Sir, it would be a pleasure.”

It was a nice restaurant, a very nice restaurant. He ordered for us both then presented the documents we had agreed upon. I looked him deeply in the eyes before I signed. He came around beside me lifted my face to him and kissed me deeply before he also signed.

When the waiter arrived with the bottle of champagne, he took the bottle to pour our drinks himself. We were there to celebrate his asking me to be his submissive and my acceptance of him as my Dominant. I was giddy before the champagne but I knew that this was the seemingly vanilla celebration before the consummation. My giddiness stemmed from my exultance to have found one that wanted what I did. Full immersion.

Now, here I stood before him, completely naked for the first time. I was freshly showered, my hair was loose, I wore no makeup and was completely unadorned apart from my blush which deepened right to the core of me every time his eyes touched my skin.

From his position on one of my two dining chairs he smiled at me. Rising, he moved towards me and circled slowly around me. “My little one, you have accepted me as your Sir and I have accepted you as my submissive. We have signed basic contracts which we will rewrite in three months time once we have had time to get to know one another better.” He stopped in front of me eyes on mine. “You are my blank canvas with which I will create a masterpiece. I will train and adorn you as I see fit, agreed?”
“Yes Sir.” I replied.
“Good girl.” He moved to the bag he had left before our dinner. He opened the zip slowly and extracted a leather riding crop. He stepped back to the chair and moved it so that he could sit directly in front of me perhaps three feet away. As he sat I saw he held up the riding crop, sending a thrill of anticipation through me.

“Now, my little one, you will learn to kneel for me. You will kneel with knees spread shoulder width apart, seated on your feet with your palms facing up on your thighs. You will look straight ahead. You will do this gracefully. Kneel.”

I took a deep shaky breath and sank to my knees in the position he had described. I was mostly aware of how this opened my sex to him. I wondered how he felt about my nakedness. For a long time I had been regularly plucked clean of all the hair beneath my arms, legs and my sex. My sensitive skin made shaving uncomfortable and I enjoyed my visits to the waxing salon, frankly they turned me on. All that hot wax on my body…

Thwack. My backside stung.
“Where did your thoughts just go, my little one?”
“I, I…” Thwack.
“Are you here with me?”
“Yes Sir.” He now stood before me and lifted my chin to look up at him. “What was it you were thinking of?”
“Sir, I was wondering what you think of my waxing.” He looked down at my bare open mound. He traced the tip of the crop up my inner thigh to rest on my naked clitoris.
“This waxing?”
“Yes Sir.” He smiled,
“I find it quite delectable.”
“Thank you Sir.”
“Why were you concerned?”
“I, I enjoy the waxing Sir. It feels good.”
“You have a female beautician?”
“Yes Sir.”
“This is fine for now, I might think about learning this art.”

“For now, stand. We will begin again. Slower as you lower yourself, don’t just plop yourself down, place yourself, for my eyes are on you.” I stood as carefully and slowly as I could. I remembered our conversations, my eyes met his and I breathed deeply letting his Dominance enter me. With grace and strength I lowered myself to my knees as a dancer would. My hands floated to rest on my thighs my eyes straight ahead.

This time as he circled me my thoughts were focused on him. I was in my body but in this moment I was there for him alone. My pleasure was to please him. His booted foot pushed my right knee a little more to the right and a hand moved my elbow just slightly. I understood I had not found symmetry. From behind me his voice came: “Rise again little one.” I took a deep breath and rose. My core drove me upward my feet freed to elegantly find their place. I silently blessed my hours of practice alone before the mirror and my years of dance to help me achieve this easily. Yet the crop found my thighs.

“Better precious little one, but for me not you.” I blushed deeply.

“Arms behind your back palms to elbows.” I did so quickly. I heard him sigh and then he circled to stand before me and examine this pose from the front. I was so aware of my naked breasts, never as full as I would, but they were mine. I breathed deeply again, the crop came to rest beneath my left breast. He traced around this one then my right.

“These are beautiful. But you doubt it?” I bit my lip, embarrassed at being so transparent and at the discomfort of disclosure.

“Yes Sir, I feel lacking.”

“And if I tell you again that they are beautiful?” I faltered and the crop flicked across my left nipple. Heated pain seared through me followed by delicious arousal. A smile twitched at my lips.

“I would thank you Sir and express gratitude at your attention towards my sensitive breasts.” He laughed and treated my right breast to the same treatment a whimper crossed my lips.

“You are very sexy little one. We will train long and hard but not tonight, I have some other plans for the consummation of our agreement. Kneel for me once more with your hands in this position.” I took a deep breath aware of how my breasts rose toward him as I did so. Looking him right in the eyes I gently lowered myself easing my legs apart feeling proud that my naked sex pleased him and I prayed that the silken moistness I knew was covering my labia was visible to him, that he would know how much I wanted to be his.

“Little one, look how regal you are offering me your vibrant sex; so delicious, so submissive I am proud of you. Such a good girl you will be my jewel. You will wear my marks, adhere to my Dominance and shine like the graceful beauty you are. Rise now for me little one.” As I rose he flicked the crop against my clit and held it there. The sensation was so erotic I wanted to fall to my knees once again.

To be continued…

I suggest this beautiful song to express the transformation that occurs when someone chooses to explore their submission, their desire for service. The racks on our backs on which we stack our load can devour us without a Dominant to guide us. The artist, Bon Iver, is a very talented lyricist, I would say poet, as well as musician. (A note: Kumran is a reference to Qumran the site where the dead sea scrolls were discovered. For those that are unaware, this discovery in 1947 potentially challenged the canonized new testament gospels [by providing alternative gospels mostly now explained as gnostic christian beliefs which differ entirely to Christianity] and provided a rich amount of history to fill in some of the early history of Christianity… probably not the time or place to discuss right now…)

“This is not the sound of a new man or crispy realization
It’s the sound of the unlocking and the lift away
Your love will be safe with me”

Learning to Kneel (part one, erotic fiction)

I would like to announce that this story has been written from an idea suggested and gifted to me by Mr. Xajow. He is a talented writer, a well-articulated, thoughtful man and Dominant. His blog contains a variety of topics, if you haven’t already please visit him at Liberate One. On a personal note I would like to sincerely thank Mr. Xajow for his ongoing support, mentorship and for being the one that initially drew my interest to wordpress and blogging.

Please note that this post contains Dominant and submissive themes that may be offensive to some readers and pleasurable for others. This piece is not particularly unsafe for work… yet…

Now, to the story…

 

The first time he asked me to kneel before him I thought it would be easy. After all, how often had a single look from him brought me to my knees? I remember the first time I felt this desire, before he began training me. Even then he probably saw my desire to submit, saw in my eyes the need to kneel. Since we had just met, it was too soon for me to openly submit to him, and yet, in a way, I did.

After all, these first times were meetings in public places. At the time we met I wasn’t anyone’s submissive. I was too shy for the clubs but I also knew that I didn’t want to just ‘scene’. I wanted to fully submit to a single Dominant. I wanted, needed to serve 24/7. I had tried lesser arrangements and the torture it stirred within me taught me that it was not my way. Nothing less than full commitment was enough to sate the need to serve that burned deep in my soul.

I met him by chance, or perhaps you might call it fate, at an art exhibition entitled ‘Fear and Beauty’. I was lost in an image, a black and white photograph, a nude of a woman in utter uninhibited submission.

She was posed as though she had been ordered to kneel knees spread shoulder width apart and ass resting on her ankles. Then however she had been asked to lean backwards so her upper body was exposed, her head resting lightly on the ground and her arms above her head. Her face was turned toward a low mirror. In the mirrors reflection her face was visible. Her eyes were filled with respect, love and awe as she looks up at her Dominant. Her only adornment is what I would describe as a day collar, a chunky metal chain of heavy links around her delicate neck.

erotic-pose-gillian-charters-barnes

Everything about her pose and facial expression spoke of her absolute, unrestrained submission, the freedom she felt and the sense that her Dominant was a man of integrity because of the deep trust and reverence reflected in her eyes.

I could not look away although I knew I had been blatantly staring at the piece for nearly an hour. Instinctively, I became aware that a man was slowly approaching me. He came to stand near enough behind me that his earthy masculine cologne entered my sensory awareness yet I still couldn’t tear my eyes from the image before me.

His presence made me acutely aware of the awkward way my feet were placed, that my lips were parted and my breath was erratic. Moistening my lips I subtly closed them, adjusting my weight I placed my high-heeled feet more elegantly and let out a sigh that I hoped was not audible.

When he spoke his voice was deep and strong, I felt it vibrate through me as he asked; “what is it about her that captivates you so?” My eyes closed and hands clenched at my side. The answer pounded in my mind but fear gripped me. I felt that my answer was the key that would unlock my deepest desires leaving me unbound, naked and terrified. I couldn’t answer because he was a stranger yet I wanted so desperately to speak the truth not a shallow lie.

He stepped a little closer towards me and spoke again in a deeper more private tone. “Breathe little one, then tell me what it is that captivates you so.”

This command weakened my knees and forced my lips to form the words I both longed and dreaded to utter: “Her submission is perfect, I wish to offer such a gift to one deserving.” The silence although momentary, roared in my ears. I had opened my eyes again and sucked in my breath feeling I had exposed myself in public to a stranger.

Again his deep commanding voice entered my body, “Such a beautiful gift little one, why does it frighten you so?”

I let his words rattle within my mind, he said ‘beautiful gift’. This statement gave me strength. “I fear that what I long for most will never be.” I heard him sigh, like speech and punctuation his breath spoke to me of a similar longing followed by a pause, a semi colon of waiting. I held completely still nearly forgetting to breathe waiting for the rest of his sentence.

“Turn and look at me little one before I ask you to join me for coffee.” He was giving me the indication that it was time to choose whether I was interested in his invitation to speak with him further. I tried to calm the butterfly flurry in my stomach as I turned to meet his gaze. He was taller than I, comfortably so, older than I, comfortably so, his eyes a rich hazel holding wisdom, strength, kindness, intrigue, and distinct, unquestionable Dominance. I bit my lip as I held his gaze, “Well little one, would you care to join me?”

This was the first time I felt the overwhelming urge to kneel before him.

Words errant satiety image Gillian Charters-Barnes Fine Art America

Part two

Flustered, part II (erotic fiction)

This post contains mature erotic content based on (light) D/s themes that may offensive to some readers and highly erotic to others. Not safe for work. That said, enjoy. Part I here…

Arriving in the bedroom I was to lie down on the padded chest at the end of the bed. Sir had it made so it was high enough for him to penetrate me if he desired but it would not be an obvious piece of sex furniture. He removed my nipple clamps sucking each nipple deeply until I moaned before he turned the chest length ways, instructing me bend over the chest, face down, stretching my arms above my head. He showered me with hard spanks then kissed my burning skin. I heard him get out the cane and swish it through the air, my skin prickled in anticipation, I had only experienced the cane a very few times. “I will give you five each side. You will count.” He ran the coolness of the cane up my inner thigh and over my hot ass before raising it and bringing it down. The sting took my breath away but I remembered to count. The second one brought tears to my eyes; the third, fourth and fifth cries. He rubbed aloe vera into this ass cheek before starting on the other, I counted and whimpered then he was rubbing the aloe in and crooning to me “such a good girl, so sexy and obedient. You are going to cum for me now.” Then he was licking my pussy parting my lips and sliding his fingers inside my velvet-wet depths. He teased my sensitive clitoris but knew I was a tightly coiled ball of sexual arousal right at the peak of orgasm so he paused tortuously often.

My ass stung brutally from his punishment but the sweetness of his touches was drawing me closer and closer to a deep and engulfing orgasm. His tongue probed my tight ass drawing deeper moans of pleasure from me. His fingers slid in and out of my slick pussy in time with his tongue pressure “You like that my dirty girl?” Sir asked as he probed deeper, knowing full well the shame I feel for liking ass play. “Yes Sir, your dirty girl likes your tongue on her ass.”
“I want you to cum for me, I am going to slid my finger covered in your salty sweetness into your tight little ass hole and you are going to cum for me.” His voice had me right on the edge but I managed a breathy reply, “Yes Sir.” True to his word he withdrew his fingers from my hot pussy and slowly slid one finger into my ass. My orgasm exploded through me a wave of intense pleasure from this one small manipulation of my body. I let my voice express the depth of the orgasm; his fingers found my clit and pushed me further not allowing the orgasm to wane. My ecstatic moans increased in volume as my Sir slid another finger into my wet and willing pussy. “Now my sweet girl you will soak me with you fluids only then will I penetrate you.” I was unable to answer the sweet crescendo he was building had me beyond forming words. His fingers retreated and a sharp thwack across my blazing buttocks brought back my tongue, “Sorry Sir, I was lost in the bliss you are giving me, yes my Sir I will ejaculate at your command that you would give me penetration. Oh Sir how I want your cock inside me.” He rubbed my ass cheeks, “Better.” His fingers returned, firstly the one in my ass then in my pussy then more rubbing my swollen clit. The combination was perfect the angles just right, within moments I had flooded him with my juices and I heard him moan his pleasure. He keeps riding my ass with his finger as I hear his trousers drop then his hardness is pushing against my pussy tantalizingly poised to enter, I cannot help but beg “Please Sir please fill me with your hardness, claim this body that belongs to you.” I have spoken out of turn he growls and grabs my knotted hair pulling on it fiercely as he enters me deeply with brute force.

He is fucking me viciously two fingers now in my ass, his hand yanking my head back and his manhood gorging on my hot flesh. Suddenly I am on the verge of cumming again his fingers leave my ass and he brings his hand down on my burning cheeks again and again, he does not allow me to let go, fucking me harder and deeper my will is slipping, as if he knows abruptly he is still. He withdraws commanding me to rise and settle myself at the end of the trunk. He seats me just on the end legs spread wide, breasts out hands behind my ass cheeks to support me, feet tucked into the nook designed for this very position. He watches me as hungrily as if it were the first time he has seen me proudly spread open before him. His eyes on the moisture leaking from me onto the cushioned trunk. Watching my parted lips as I wait eager for whatever is to come next. He tweaks my nipples hard his erection twitching with the pleasure. He grabs my right breast firmly with his whole hand and slaps the nipple firmly several times then sucks viciously at it, unbidden moans pour out my of throat. Turning his attention to my left breast he repeats this procedure biting the soft flesh sharply causing me to suck in my breath.

He reaches for a large dildo and pushes it into my mouth. “I want to pound your soft flesh until you are spent I am going to push you further than ever before my treasure you are so wet and hot I want to fuck you and claim you again and again.” The dildo is still in my mouth he pulls it out holding my eyes “Please claim this one Sir, I am your girl to do with as it pleases you.” He smiled and kissed me, “That’s my good girl.” He traced the dildo down my form over my now aching nipple, then he traced further down to part my moist nether lips dripping with want. My stinging ass was hurting from sitting on it but this did nothing but heighten my arousal. He penetrated me deeply with the dildo, it was huge, much larger than any he had used before I held steady as he pushed it as deep as possible allowing me to become accustomed to its size then he began fucking me with it in earnest. My body seemed to be trying to stop it entering but his insistence and my wetness allowed him to push past my tensing. Firmer he plunged as I began to feel another orgasm rise. He slapped at my breasts with his free hand, “Keep your pose, breasts forward, straight back.”
“Yes Sir,” I whimpered as the pleasure deep within my stretched pussy grew in intensity. I cried out wordlessly,
“Hold it my dirty slut. Let it build higher first.” He increased the pressure and speed within me I whimpered my plea
“Please Sir, please let me cum.” He rammed harder but did not give permission then he was rubbing my clit firmly and finally said “Now.” I came loudly more fluid gushed from me, suddenly the dildo was gone and Sir’s much smaller, but more organically heated cock was inside me driving the orgasm further again and again I released over him, struggling to maintain my pose.

He pushed me onto my back with my legs spread pointing up to the ceiling. “Hold this position.” Then the dildo was poised at my swollen lips and his cock at my tightest entrance. He slid both inside me simultaneously I moaned at the pleasure and the pain of holding my legs suspended in the air. He found his rhythm I cried out to god and my Sir was telling me to touch my clit “rub it hard dirty girl, slap your nub until you cum for me again.” I did as I was bid, orgasm tearing through me as I did so. My breasts ached, my ass cheeks burned, my thighs burned from holding them up and spread wide but still I came harder and harder. The pleasure overwhelmed me I was awash in an ecstatic release that was only pushed further when my Sir finally allowed his own release. The pleasure still washed through me my body pulsing with the orgasms retreat. After some moments of stillness and our breath returning to normal my Sir spoke, his voice softened with his release. “Such a good girl, I think I should bathe you before you sleep.” He lowered my legs and moved me so I would be more comfortable as he went to run the bath for us. I lay listening to him whistling an old tune as he went about this task, utterly spent and calm thanking my lucky stars for such a wise and generous Sir.