Monday, May 27, 2013

Story Time

Hello readers. Thank you for continuing to read my story. The next
post is in the works, I promise, but other (paid) writing gigs have it a bit delayed. Please keep checking in, it will appear soon and we will continue the story of Jack and I. 

In the meantime, for your entertainment, here is a link to a story I wrote for the Literotica website. It is a site for amateur ( and some professional) authors to share erotic stories. Do check it out. There are plenty of examples of truly bad writing, but the gems are worth digging for. This website also plays a role in mine and Jack's story, in an interesting way. 

I wrote this story under a pseudonym, Amelia Jax. It's complete fiction. Or ... Is it?

Friday, May 10, 2013

Dreams ... Part II

The second dream I want to share is similar to the first, though much shorter. It was another situation in which I dreamed of Master showing his control over me, and me proving my devotion and willingness to do what pleased him, without thought. Because really, that is something he taught me. Early on, when exclaiming to him how embarrassing it would be to perform a task that he was describing to me, he told me something that was so simple, and so complicated, in its beauty. He told me that it didn't matter what I thought about these tasks he wanted me to perform. And not because I didn't matter. But because all that should matter to me was pleasing him. If I kept my focus on that ... on him ... I wouldn't have to worry about feeling embarrassed. I wouldn't care. I had to become truly selfless. It meant that I had to cast off my own feelings of self-consciousness, worry of what others thought, embarrassment, shame, humiliation. (There are plenty of Dominant/submissive relationships that deal largely in shame and humiliation. That was not our thing.) I only had to center my thoughts ... focus my mind on Master, and doing what he commanded.  I only had to please him. No one else. I didn't have to worry about what I looked like, to whom, who was judging me, or why. Can you understand how freeing that is? How much you have to trust someone to even consider letting that part of yourself go? That constant worry in the back of your mind ...  am I pretty enough, sexy enough, cool enough, smart enough, good enough good enough good enough enough enough enough... Can you imagine the strength it takes, the sheer force of will that you have to exhibit to let those insecurities go and just BE? For someone you love? To make pleasing him your only goal, with no thought of getting anything in return? It's not easy. And I'm not even sure I'm explaining it correctly. But to me it felt like freedom. It made me strong.

Just FYI, the task we were talking about was going to a strip club and me dancing in some kind of amateur competition. Like, as in, onstage. Dancing. In front of people. Erotic dancing. The thought alone gives me the cold sweats. We never ended up trying me on that particular task. That would have tested my limits, absolutely. But I'm getting way ahead of myself in this story. 

The dream, the dream. Again, we start in medias res. "Into the middle of things." I am sitting in a swanky hotel lounge at night. It's like a club, low lighting, long squat couches with lots of pillows, dark corners, moody dance music. I'm sitting by myself, looking out a large, floor-to-ceiling window, where city lights sparkle and wink in the indigo night.

Suddenly he is there next to me, drinks in hand. He hands me my favorite, whiskey, with just enough ice. I take a long draught and roll the cool smokey taste around in my mouth before swallowing. Master sits down next to me, very close, his own whiskey in hand. 

"Were you watching them, Shea?"

"Hmmmm?" I feel dreamy, a little tired, the music is very loud. 

Master takes my chin in his hand and tilts my head to the side. Slightly to my left, across the lounge near the window, a man and woman are wrapped up together in a close embrace. A very close embrace. They are kissing passionately, and their hands are all over each other. Perhaps they think they are in a darker corner of the lounge than they actually are. Perhaps they just don't care. The voyeur in me perks up a little, watching their hot display of PDA.  

"No, I wasn't. I was looking out the window. I'm surprised I missed them." I laugh a little, and take another sip of my drink.

"How does watching them now make you feel?" I look at him, to see if he is smiling. He isn't. He is giving me that dark look that gives me chills. The one that means trouble, more often than not. 

I look back at the couple across the room. They are still locked together, apparently oblivious to the room, or the people in it. They both have long dark hair, and it is tangled together as they kiss. She has one long leg thrown over his, her silver stiletto catching the light. He has his hand up her skirt. I watch the subtle movement of his arm, and wonder ... is he just rubbing the crotch of her panties? Is it damp and warm? Or does he have the material pushed aside, are his fingers caressing her skin .... or is she not wearing panties? Are his fingers pressing into the wet dark between her legs unhindered? I find myself wondering if she is shaved bare, like I am. I start to feel a building warmth low in my belly, and a tingling starts between my legs. 

"Shea? I asked you a question." Master's voice warns me not to ignore him again.

I give him a quick, apologetic look. "It makes me feel ... turned on, but naughty, too. Like I ought not to watch. I feel like I should look away, but I don't want to."

"Do you think they care if anyone is watching them?"

I look back at the passionate pair. His hand is still working it's magic under her skirt, and now she is shamelessly rubbing the crotch of his jeans. Her other hand is clutched around the back of his neck, his is in her hair. The warmth that had started in my belly is spreading upwards, and I suddenly feel flushed.

"It certainly doesn't seem so. I have to imagine that they want people to see."

"How would you feel if people were to watch you like that.?" Now Master did smile. He knows I have mixed feelings of dread and desire when it came to the idea of being watched. 

I take another quick sip, and smile at Master over the rim of my glass. He gives me that look again. Dark and mischievous. I am about to answer when he leans in and kisses me.  His lips are soft and cool and taste of whiskey. 

I put my hand on his leg and lean in to the kiss. I love kissing him. Whether he is kissing me softly, slowly, or madly, roughly ... there is always a feeling of possession in the kiss. He claims me.

Master breaks the kiss, leans back and drains his glass. Then he takes mine and drains that, too, over my playful protests. He leans in close again and traces his finger down my cheek, along my jaw, over my lips. Then down my neck to my clavicle. I shiver at his touch. He wraps his finger around the chain that circles my neck. Actually, it's not the chain that circles my neck, it's a sliver studded leather choker, thin and delicate. But strong. The pretty silver chain hangs from the front of it. It's long, and it drops down the front of my shirt, between my breasts, reaching all the way to my belt. It's pretty and a little punky, and looks just like a fashionable piece of jewelry. If it means anything more, no one would know but Master and I. 

He wraps his finger around the chain and pulls it up through the deep V of my shirt. He lets it dangle for a moment, and twists its between his fingers. It's links catch the colored lights of the bar behind us. Taking its end in his hand, he uses the chain to pull me towards him. But he doesn't lean toward me, he just looks at me, at my face. This has become a bit of a "tell" for him. When he starts to study my face like that, I know he is going to do something and wants to gauge my reaction. 

He continues to pull, the chain is strong and won't break. The leather choker presses into the back of my neck ... not uncomfortably. 

"Kiss me." He whispers. He starts to pull down on the chain. If I'm going to obey him, I have to shift my position. Actually, the way he is using my necklace to maneuver me, if I'm going to obey, I'm going to have to shift positon dramatically. 

I slide off the couch and, responding to the pressure of his pull on my choker, position myself between his legs. I look up at him and smile. I don't worry if anyone is watching us, though it's hard to resist the urge to look around.  He leans down and rewards me with his passion, pressing his mouth to mine roughly, possessively, and I wrap my arms around his waist and pull myself towards him, dying to be closer, closer, always closer ...

"Shea," he whispers. "You are so beautiful tonight. I want you to do something for me. Without moving from this position, I want you to touch yourself, I want you to feel how hot and wet you are. I want you to cum, but not until I tell you to. And I want you to do it without anyone noticing. Just give it all to me, breath out, so I can breath you in." I can feel him smiling against my ear, as he quotes one of my favorite songs. 

My stomach drops. I've never done anything like this in public before. I've fantasized about it, but now that it is actually happening ... could I really do it? Could I orgasm right here in this loud, dark room, with all of these people milling about? Master presses his lips to mine again and I shake away my doubts. I must not hesitate. I will obey. 

I unclasp my hands from around his back and slide them down his thighs. My fingers are shaking as I undo my belt, and then the button and zipper of my jeans. I am suddenly wishing I wasn't wearing the tight pair I had on. In order to reach between my legs, I may have to shimmy them down a bit. Luckily, I'm wearing an open front sweater that is long in the back. So no one will notice. Probably. I'm mostly sure that unless someone sits down right beside us (and how rude would that be?) no one can really see what I'm doing, positioned as I am between his legs. Unless they are really looking. Which I suppose someone could be. The thought sparks an even hotter fire in my belly. 

I try to concentrate on what Master's mouth is doing to mine, the taste of the whiskey on his tongue, the feel of his lips, as I slowly reach down the front of my jeans, and into my panties. I do have to push my jeans down, just a little, in order to reach what I need to ... my already wet, warm pussy. I slide my middle finger down between those soft lips, smooth, perfectly bare, and I feel the warmth. I push a little further, and I feel the wet. So wet already. I moan softly into Master's mouth, and I can feel his hand tighten on my chain. 

I push my hand down further and press my finger into my pussy, feeing how wet I am, so hot on the inside. It feels so good I do it again, and again, slowly, than a little faster, just that one finger, reaching reaching ... I moan again, but it is lost in the lingering kiss, the beat of the music, the murmur of the crowd. 

Now I pull back a little and rub the damp pad of my finger over my clit, which is swollen and aching for attention. I feel a jolt of electricity and I jerk towards Master without meaning to. I steady myself by gripping his thigh with my other hand. He wraps his other hand, the one not gripping my chain, in my hair, right at the nape of my neck. His kiss is devouring me now, with an urgency that stirs my arousal even more.

I'm so wet that my finger slides over my clit easily, and I rub in tiny circles, lightly, teasingly, building the pressure, stoking the fire, until my ass starts to tingle and clench, and my thighs are trembling. My breath is catching in my throat and I'm unable to really participate in the kissing with any concentration. Master pulls back until our lips are barely touching. I whisper against his mouth. 

"Ohhh, Master. Oh my god, I'm so wet. And this feels so good."

I stroke myself a little faster, I press a little harder, and the orgasm starts to rise within me, building quickly. My panties are soaked and so is my finger, all the way to the knuckle. 

"Oh god, Oh, oh oh ..." I murmur into his his mouth, I pant, I moan. His hand tightens in my hair. 

I grip his leg even tighter, feeling the fabric of his jeans under my sweaty palm. I don't know if I can hold it back much longer. I'm starting to feel that .... swirling whirlpool of arousal, and I'm rising with it, on the edge ...

"Master, please, can I cum now? Please?" I gasp.

He pulls away and looks at my face. "No. Not yet."

I groan loudly and close my eyes. I want to drop my head forward, or let it fall back, but his grip on my collar keeps me in place. As does his grip in my hair. 

My clit is a hard slippery bud, and I'm pressing it fiercely now. I'm using two other fingers to engage the rest of my wet pussy. My thighs are aching and tight with the effort to hold back the orgasm, and I'm digging my fingernails into his thigh. He doesn't seem to care. 

"Look at me, Shea." I open my eyes and Master presses his forehead against mine. If it weren't for the fact I was kneeling on the floor in front of him, we would look just like two ordinary lovers, talking softly together while out on a date.

"Cum for me now, my little slut. My little pet."

I look into his eyes and gasp a little with pleasure. Just those words alone are almost enough to get me off. I push my middle finger again as deeply inside myself as I can, once twice three times, quickly, a little roughly, and then focus my attention on my swollen clit. Now that I have permission, it doesn't take long. I just have to ... let go. I feel that rushing in my head, the tightening of every muscle, that indescribable feeling of falling over the edge and ...

"Oh god!" I almost shout and he presses his mouth against mine again. I can feel him silently laughing. The orgasm rocks me and my whole body stiffens. My ass, my pussy, my thighs. My back arches as my hips rock forward, and I'm trapped there, between his legs, him holding me in place. I'm groaning, making animal noises as I press my all of my fingers against the amazing wetness between my legs. I can feel myself spasming with release. 

I'm suddenly weak and I start to sag, which causes the leather around my neck to dig in even more. That feeling starts to spark the electricity in me again, but my muscles are still spasming from the after shocks of the orgasm. Master is whispering to me again. "Oh, Shea, my little one. The things you do to me." 

What I do to him? 

He lets go of my chain and my hair, and pulls my hand out of my pants, where it was kind of stuck. I'm still sagging a little against him, my mind mostly wiped by the rush of the orgasm. It suddenly occurs to me to wonder if anyone saw me, realized what I was doing. Or was watching Master and I kissing and touching each other, like we had watched that other couple across the room. I realize that I kind of hope someone did.

Master reaches down and zips and buttons my jeans. He refastens my belt. He pulls me back up onto the couch beside him and tucks me up under his arm. I lay my head on his chest and I can hear his heart beating. He takes my right hand, the one that I had just masturbated with, and puts it up to his lips. I look at him just in time to see him slowly, mesmerizingly lick my middle finger, from base to tip. I shiver all over at the sheer sexiness of that simple act. 

"Taste yourself, little one."

I look into his dark eyes as I put my finger into my mouth and suck on it, then slowly pull it back out, savory the salty, musky taste of my own juices.

"Mmmmm," I say to him. "I taste really good."

A slow smile curls his lips, and the darkness in his eyes tell me the night has only just begun.

This dream, though shorter, was even more affecting  and arousing to me than the other one. Can you guess why? Can you guess which part of it lingering in my mind for days after, causing me to walk around in a near constant, heightened state of arousal?

Again, I did embellish this dream just a bit, mainly adding in the conversational bits, and streamlining it to make it more narrative. But other than those small details, this is almost exactly how I dreamed it. Again I woke up close to a real orgasm. But for some reason this time, when I did, I did not indulge myself, I didn't make an effort to get myself off. Something about that dream made me want to deny myself an orgasm, the release. For days, as the dream lingered in my mind. Hmmmm ...

I had another dream, close on the heels of these two, but I'm not going to relate it here. There were parts of it that are too ... painful? bittersweet? I'm not sure exactly what work I'm looking for, but I don't want to dwell on it now. 

The next post will get back to that long ago summer, and resume the story of me and Jack. As always, thanks for reading.

Thursday, May 2, 2013

Dreams of a lonely submissive

As I work on the next installment of the story of that fateful summer with Jack, (more sex! more biting! more firsts!) I thought I would take a little break and write an interim post. About dreams. 

I've always had very vivid dreams. Usually they are a mix of the mundane and the absurd, often violent, full of blood, sex and danger. So many dreams I've had seem to be chapters in an epic story that has no end. Chase scenes, evildoers, friends who become monsters, or monster hunters, mysteries to solve, tragedy to overcome and always I am running running running. The settings have been medieval, futuristic, post-apocalyptic. I chalk this up to an overactive imagination, thoughts and emotions that need to work themselves out through my subconscious while I'm sleeping, and the scary, intense books I read and television shows I watch. 

My favorite dreams, of course, are the sex dreams. I don't often have sex dreams, but when I do they are very real. I wake up aroused, sometimes even touching myself, feeling like something has really happened. Interestingly, the men I'm with in my sex dreams are rarely men I know in real life. They are either faceless, or totally made up. I don't recognize them. I  have had a few dreams about sex with celebrities, (there was one in particular involving Colin Farrell and a rock-lined grotto that was quite good) and one I remember involving a co-worker I had a huge crush on. I had already imagined a "working late at the office and some unknown man ravishes me from behind" masturbatory fantasy about this particular coworker. (Because, of course, I knew it was him though I pretended not to). But in this dream, everything was out of context. My co-worker (let's call him J) was a James Bond type spy, complete with tuxedo, and though the sex was super hot, I couldn't help but think, in the dream, that he had to hurry up and fuck me so that he could go catch the bad guys. It seemed there was some place more important he was supposed to be. In real life, J was such a nice guy, and a writer, like me, but in the the dream he was kind of dark and intense. Which, of course, was a huge turn on.

Though I'm not sure I've ever had a sex dream that involved a significant other at the time of our ... um ... significance, I did have dreams about Jack. When we were together back in that fateful summer, I dreamt of him all the time. Not sex dreams, though, I don't think. I unfortunately don't remember. But he invaded my dreams like he did my every waking moment. I never wanted to be without him, even when I was sleeping.

And then, in our more recent relationship, after I had given him my submission, given him myself, I dreamed of him as well. Sex dreams, weird dreams, regular going to the store dreams. Combinations of all three.  Again he was a part of me, his presence seeping into my every pore, firing the electric wires in both my body and my brain.

There are two such dreams that I want to share. Both because they were very arousing, bringing me almost to the point of orgasm as I slept, and because I know why I was dreaming these dreams. 

I know I haven't gotten to that point in the story yet, and I may not be there for a while. I'll try not to write any spoilers. What I will say, as preamble, is that early on Jack and I often posed the question ... could our relationship, as Jack and Shea, as Master and pet, as Dom and sub, work long-term in "the real world." How could we be who we really are, the selves we were discovering together, and still live a real life, in a day-to-day existence. I won't say now how or if we found answers, but I think pondering those questions is part of what prompted these dreams. 

My memory of the dream starts "in medias res" ... suddenly there we were, Master and I, in the middle of the hardware store. A big box store, like Lowe's or Home Depot. We were in the large lumber section, looking at wood. I'm looking at my Master, looking at the wood, nothing on my mind but how sexy he is, in his jeans and leather jacket. He turns and looks at me, catching me watching him. His eyes darken as he gives me a slow smile. Oh, that look, it starts a warm swirling feeling in my belly. Master crosses his arms and says, "I think we should ask for some assistance." 

A rush of nerves makes my skin prick. I wasn't sure he was being serious. But when is he ever not serious when he plans these ... excursions?

"I ... um ... thought you said you knew what we needed to build the coop?" (A coop? Are we building a chicken coop? What the hell???)

"I do know what we need. But you don't. I think you should ask for help." Master slowly puts his hands in the pockets of his coat.

"Okay." I stammer. 

Master walks towards me and backs me up against the metal shelves behind me. He leans in to kiss me, his lips hover just over mine, but he doesn't kiss me. He just whispers into my mouth. 

"Shea. No matter what happens, act naturally. Ask the nice clerk some questions. If you let on to what you are feeling, in any way, you will be punished. If he even so much as gives you a weird look, I will punish you, and I will show him what a slut you are. You don't want to give the nice clerk a blow job in the parking lot, do you?" I started to tremble. I could feel him smile against my lips.

"No, Master. Not unless it pleases you."

"That's my good girl. Now, go be a damsel in distress and ask for some help. Your choice. I'll be watching."

Master backs up and with a gallant gesture, ushers me along. I take a deep breath and look around. At the end of the aisle is a young man, younger than me certainly. Probably in his early twenties. Cute. I approach him, feeling Master's eyes on me all the way down the aisle. 

"Excuse me?" 

The clerk turns towards me. He's cuter up closer than I thought he was. "Yes, ma'am. Can I help you find something?"

I'm about to open my mouth when I feel it. A soft vibration between my legs. How did I forget? Before we left the house, Master had strapped a vibrator onto me, one that was controlled by a wireless remote. It was a purple butterfly, and it was nestled up against my pussy, the stiff antennae of the butterfly touching my clit. 

I close my mouth, and then open it again. "Yes ... uh ... I'm building a chicken coop, and I'm wondering what the best wood to use would be?"

Really. Could I sound any more like an idiot?

The cute clerk smiles and starts telling me something, but I can't really hear him as I'm distracted by the humming between my legs. My pussy and my ass start tingling but it's a low setting, so far, and I think I can handle it. How many settings are on this damn thing?

Cute clerk is motioning me down another aisle, so I follow. Mercifully, Master has turned the vibe off. For a moment. We round the corner to confront a bunch of boards that look just like the boards from the aisle we just came from. I look to my left and see Master inspecting some wood from down the aisle. His hand is in his jacket pocket. Uh oh. 

Clerk starts to talk again, but as soon as he does, the vibes goes off again. Stronger this time. I lock my eyes on Clerk's face, trying to concentrate on what he's saying. Trying to ignore the deliciousness that is going on in my pants. Oh, but it feels so good. The butterfly is touching every part of my pussy, and my tight jeans are holding it firmly into place. My stomach muscles are starting to spasm, just a little, and the warmth is starting to spread from my belly up through the rest of my body. I dig my nails into my palms in an attempt to stave off the rising sensations.

Clerk has noticed the rapt attention I am paying to whatever he is saying and has started making wild and interesting hand gestures to describe ... things. 

My pussy is starting to become engorged, and I can feel my breathing start to change. I can't stop touching my hair. I can't stand still, the vibrations are sending waves of pleasure all through me. Even my breasts are tingly now, and my nipples are hard. I sneak a peek at Master, but he is looking nonchalantly at some bit of hardware. I have to move, or I will lose it.

"Oh, that's very interesting. What about ... fasteners?" I say in a voice that is not quite my own.

Clerk looks confused and I mumble about keeping the chickens in or predators out. Are we really building a chicken coop? Where? In the back yard?

I suddenly notice Clerk is walking, so I follow him. We walk right past Master, and when we do, he turns the vibe up to full speed. Oh god! I gasp and trip a little, and I hear Master laugh. Clerk turns to look at me and asks if I'm ok.

"Fine!" I manage to squeak out. It's so hard to walk and stave off an orgasm at the same time! I probably look drunk. All I want to do is stop and lean against that rack of padlocks and give in to it. Just grab onto the metal shelves, close my eyes, and feel myself slip over that edge. Let my hips rock as my ass clenches and scream out, Oh fuck! as I cum hard, over and over, until Master takes mercy on me and turns off the vibe. But I can't. I have to follow the nice cute Clerk over to the aisle of ... fasteners. Every nerve is on fire, my pussy is wet and spasming with pleasure, and I'm pretty sure I can hear the buzzing of the vibe as I walk unsteadily along. I'm sure Master is following closely behind.

Suddenly the vibe stops. Oh sweet mercy, Thank You! My whole body shudders with relief and perhaps a bit of disappointment. I can still feel the ghost effects of the vibrations on my poor swollen pussy. Now that the sensation is gone, my body wants it back. I'm aching with frustration. As Clerk picks through bins of shiny metal ... thingys ... it's all I can do not to press my hand between my legs. My face feels shiny with perspiration. 

What is Clerk doing now? He's demonstrating some latches, I'm assuming. I still can't focus on what he's saying. He's very animated about whatever he is telling me, but maybe that's because of the unusual amount of attention I seem to be paying him. I must focus on Clerk. I must not wish for the vibe to turn back on. I must not orgasm right here in the shiny thingy aisle. I don't want to have to give this nice young man a blow job in the parking lot. Would Master really go that far? There was really no way to know. 

Ohhhh, fuck. I bite the insides of my cheek to keep from moaning out loud. The vibe suddenly hums to life. My stomach muscles and ass clench, but I don't think Clerk has noticed. I can only assume that Master is somewhere behind me, down the aisle. He is really testing me now. The vibe alternates between low and high speeds, at a very rapid rate. It's like being stroked mercilessly, deliciously, torturously ... oh my god, I don't think I'm going to be able to hold it together. I nonchalantly (I think) reach out and rest my hand on the nearby shelf. I step slightly towards it. Clerk is still blathering on, god, won't he stop? Can't there be some hardware emergency that he must respond to ... my legs are trembling uncontrollably, and I'm starting to pant a little, but I don't think it's noticeable. God, I hope not. I dig my nails into my palms again in desperation. I can feel a slickness between my pussy and the silicon butterfly vibe. I'm too hot. I'm fiddling with my hair again, I want to pull it, I want to pinch myself, I'm already literally biting my tongue to distract myself from the call of my impending orgasm, it's rising, rising, the waves of sharp pleasure are reaching wrapping their fingers around every muscle, every part of me is taut with the strain and the vibe is relentless, high low fast slow high low fast slow oh oh oh oh OH ... and it's off again. 

I sag with relief but my body has gone past the point of no return.  I need release. I don't care how I get it or what kind of trouble I get into. Even though the vibe is off my whole body is thrumming with desire. My skin is tingling, my pussy is wet and aching, my stomach muscled won't stop spasming and all I can thinking about is that sweet relief, or ... even better ... a hard fuck. Because when I get this aroused, or after a purely clitoral orgasm, I am overcome with the desperate desire to feel Master's beautiful cock pushing into me. Hard. Hard. Hard.

Someone walks past me down the aisle, and I know it is Master. Clerk is asking me something about chicken wire. For the chickens. Chickens? Why are we talking about chickens? My ability to think coherently has been compromised. Clerk seems to be waiting for some kind of response from me but I don't know what to say. I see Master over Clerk's shoulder. He is looking at me. He is not laughing anymore. He looks ... not angry, exactly. Just ... darkly serious. He makes a motion with his head that tells me he wants me to follow him. Oh thank god! It's over!

I mumble some thanks to Clerk for being so helpful and hurry on weak trembling legs after Master. I don't know where he has gone. I'm rounding the corner into the gardening section when a hand grabs my elbow and pulls me over to the side. It is Master. He rushes me a bit down into a dead-end aise of hoses and fake trees. He pushes me against the shelves and leans his body into mine. I think he is going to kiss me and I reach up to touch him, but he growls in my ear, "Put your hands behind you back." 

I grab the dusty metal shelves at the small of my back and resist the urge to grind my hips into his. This urge is almost too much to bear. I start panting for real this time.

"How do you feel, Shea, my little pet? Are you desperate to cum? I could tell by your body language that you were barely holding on back there. What's the matter, didn't you want to give that boy head in the parking lot while I watched?"

I don't know what to say so I say nothing. His breath is on my ear, so I can't see his face. I moan a little, I can't help it. I don't know what I want him to do. And it doesn't matter what I want anyway. He would do whatever he pleased, and I would be happy with that.

Master reaches one hand under my t-shirt and pushes my bra up over my flushed breasts. He runs his thumb over my nipple and feels how hard it is. He makes some small appreciative noises in my ear, like an exhale of "Ahhh" and then pinches my nipple, hard. Oh god that almost puts me over the edge right there. My hips buck and press against him. I put my head back and groan. 

"Shea, you were a good girl and did as I asked. Do you want to cum for me now?"

Out of the corner of my eye all I can see are fake green leaves and curls of hose. The flourescent lighting glares down on us. I can hear the noise and bustle of the store just past our secluded little aisle. But none of that matters. His hand is still on my breast and that's all I can feel. 

"Yes, please, Master." I whimper, breathing against his neck. 

Master pulls back and looks at me, our eyes just inches apart. His are dark and shining. 

"I'll let you cum if you can do it in 10 seconds. If you can't, I won't let you cum for the rest of the day."

Oh god. Please not that. 

Master puts the hand that isn't under my shirt in his pocket. I braced for what I desperately pray is coming. 

The vibe kicks into life on high speed. My whole body jerks and I gasp out loud. All the nerve endings in my pussy that had been ramping down were firing back up. Master takes his hand out of his pocket and presses it hard up between my legs. He is pressing that wildly vibrating butterfly even harder against me, against my clit. He starts moving his hand in slow small circles, and with his other hand he pinches my nipple again, hard. He is still staring into my eyes, and though I want to close mine, I don't dare break eye contact. He starts to count, slowly.

"10 ... 9 ... 8 ..."

My legs start to tremble and I start to breathe heavily. The waves of insane pleasure are starting to roll up over me, and my anus starts tingling. I am getting there, quickly, but will it be quick enough? 

"7 ... 6 ... 5 ..."

Oh my god, the waves are cresting, I am there, on the edge, I just have to let go and drop in, my whole body is on fire, and my hips thrust forward straining towards him, every muscle taut, my stomach and ass muscles clenching and spasming, my hands sweaty and slipping in their grip on the shelves behind me.

"4 ... 3 ..." 

I can't help it. I start moaning loudly. "oh god oh god oh my god oh my god Master please please ..."

" ... 2 ..."

Master takes his hand out from under my shirt and clamps it over my mouth. At the same time he presses his hand even harder up between my legs. That's all it takes.

" ... 1 ..."

I let go and give myself to the orgasm. And god, I cum hard. My body stiffens and I fight to maintain eye contact with Master. He presses his body against mine to keep me standing. His hand over my mouth, god how I live for that, muffles my cries. I can feel a rush of wetness between my legs, my pussy engulfed in the fire of orgasm. 

And I can't stop. The vibe is still on high, pressed hard into me by Master's hand,  and the orgasm keeps rolling on. If he hadn't put his hand over my mouth someone would  hear me wordlessly crying out. Wave after wave of sharp pleasure washes over me, and it is so intense it was almsot painful. And Master just stares at my face, drinking in the naked abandon and desire he sees there. The raw emotion on my face as the orgasm controls me. 

Finally he takes his hand from between my legs, and suddenly the vibe is silent. Ahhhhh, such relief. I sag against the shelves, drained of energy. My body is still spasming, rocked by the aftershocks of the intensely powerful orgasm. Master takes his hand away from my mouth and growls in my ear again.

"You are amazing, my little slut. And you are mine." It is exactly what I want to hear. 

He takes my hand and pulls me away from the shelves. My shoulders ache after being bent back and leaned upon.

"I think you will be giving head in the parking lot after all. But not to some green boy who doesn't deserve you."

Master looks back at me over his shoulder as he pulls me along. "And if you do well sucking my cock, Shea, I'll let you decide if you want me to turn the butterfly back on while you do it." 

He laughs at whatever expression I have on my face, and pulls me out into the sunshine. So much for the chicken coop, I guess.

Maybe if I am a really good little pet, and worship his cock the way he likes it, later he will give me what I really want, what I really need. There is an ache that has started between my legs within my wet swollen pussy, and it is radiating up into my belly. An emptiness that cries out to be filled. 

Maybe if I please him well, he will fill that emptiness. I need him to fuck me and fuck me and fuck me ... so, so hard. 

Well. I may have gotten carried away with transcribing that dream. I may have ... embellished, made it more narrative, as dreams get so weird and don't make sense anymore when you try to tell them. For instance, in my dream, that last scene, when Master  lets me cum, finally, we were inexplicably in the bathroom of a Starbucks, when we had been at the hardware store moments before. But the basics really were a part of my real dream. The butterfly vibe (which I do actually own) the clerk, the instructions to seek assistance, the threat of giving head to a store employee, the plans to build a chicken coop (?!?!?!) and the final, amazing release. I woke from that dream sweaty and so aroused it was pretty easy to bring myself to a real orgasmic release. 

I will have to write a part two tomorrow, as there is another dream I'd like to tell you about. 

Dreams are amazing and funny and weird, aren't they?