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“Kneel to me. Now. Show me your submission.”

The words stop my heart. Literally. I can’t feel it beat. And then, when it starts again, it is loud and fills me and I’m reminding myself to breath because it’s going so fast. He words do not allow for hesitation, but I bite my lower lip, and look to him, and my nipples tingle. I am naked. Exposed. There is no way I can hide the arousal I am feeling. My skin is flushed.

“Yes, my Master.” I whisper it, because to speak it would mean that I exist. And here and now I do not feel like I exist. I feel like I am a story. Like my obedience has somehow separated me from reality.

I’m shifting. Moving up. So naked. Panties pulled up over the roundness of my belly. Nipples are long, hard. Eager to be touched. I kneel up, my thighs spreading. Ankles under me. Grateful for the panties. They hide my need.

“Take off the panties. You do not hide yourself when you submit.” He says, even as I have the esenler escort thought of gratitude for this barrier. He will strip me. Show me. Reveal what I am.

“Yes Master.” I say, again, my words come out in a breathy kind of whisper. And I squirm out of my panties, flushing. Now he will see all of me. The soft tuft of hairs that have appeared because I’m due for a sugaring. The length of my lips. The round of my belly. So hate my belly. I want to hide it. I can’t hide it. Because I am obeying, and stretching open again.

“Lift your hands up, behind your neck.” He commands it, without doubt that I will do as said, and I do, fingers lacing behind me.

How long has it been since I knelt to someone looking to me? How long? I can’t remember. Two years? Three?

Was it when I knelt naked by the door waiting for the man to enter my home? Was that the last time I knelt this way, anxious florya escort and excited when I heard his car door slam, and his footsteps coming up the walkway. Knowing I was going to feel pain, knowing I was going to be used.

The act of kneeling offers more than the stretch and pull in ones thighs. It offers more than the patter of heart and wet desire that spreads. It is submission in all its form.

And here and now my legs are open. He can see my cunt. He can see my lips, hanging and swollen and likely wet with need. He can see the way my nipples are hardened, my tiny perky tits. The swell of my belly. My fingers are lifted and I arch, wanting to please him with what he sees. Desperate to please him with my kneel.

I look up. I surrender. And when he asks this is what I say. I submit fully to you as a slave my Master.

“Use your name.”

And I do. My eyes instinct-fully lowering. kayaşehir escort My nipples throb. My hips begin to rock. To ride. To clench and squeeze at his command. My arms are sore, fuck I’m out of shape. They sing and ache and I hold them high and he won’t let me lower them. My hair scooped up falls, because I’m squirming and wiggling and offering him my pussy.

I am desperate to please in this, my thighs splaying wider. I want him to look. I am humiliated that he is looking. I need him. I want him. I am so fucking wet for him. Please.

I am begging but he won’t let me stop. He wants me to cum. He wants to take me there without even touching and I don’t know if I do but I do and I don’t know how I can but I can.

Oh. Oh. Please.

My legs ache. My cunt is throbbing. My clit needs his attention. But he’s not letting me touch.

I know.

Without a doubt it hits me. Sending new flutters of pleasure through my belly. I know that there is no longer any denying it.

I am his.

I have surrendered, and now, I am his. He has taken me.

I kneel to him, hurting, vibrating.

And later with shaky knees when I try to walk, I am aware still. I can close my eyes and feel that moment. Hear his voice. Feel his eyes.

I am now his.

Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
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