Belated Birthday Gift
By: lizsubintampa
True: Bondage, Submission, Consensual
Email: lizsubintampa@gmail.com
Last year on the July 4th weekend I went to Dunedin, Florida, for the night with Dottie. We stayed at a motel just off the main street area near the water and planned to just relax and play a bit.
Of course with Dottie “a bit of play” is always something that provides me with countless hours of torture and teasing with her pleasure always coming first (no pun intended) and while there was a time when I would deny being a “masochist” (and a “submissive”) I have learned, and continue to learn, just how much I not only enjoy my role but love it too.
After checking in we went to our room and before I could say the pledge of allegiance (saying “Jackie Robinson” is not really something I would say…please forgive my all too often poor sense of humor) she took me in her arms and, of course, with no attempt on my part to stop her, I returned her kisses and felt myself go weak as her hands began to roam and, finally, when she put her hand over my puss all I could think about was wanting her to make me cum (and I was still wearing my jeans!)
Smiling she told me to undress and while I think I may have set a new strip record I couldn’t help but keep my eyes on her as she all too slowly took her clothes off. Now don’t get me wrong, I’m not a prude and I have been to places where men have stripped and I have used a few dollar bills to show my appreciation for their performances (okay, I’ll admit it, I’ve also witnessed women stripping too and my money was spent just as quickly, if not more so).
The problem was she knew how horny I was and she was teasing me. Knowing better than to try to touch her without permission I stood there like a deer in a car's headlights waiting for her to allow me to come to her. Now that may not sound very frustrating to many of you but at that moment, for me, it was very frustrating.
Finally (actually maybe less than 30 seconds after she had taken her panties off) she stepped toward me, put her hands on my shoulders, pushed me down to my knees and, with her hand now at the back of my head, pulled me to her puss and without any hesitation put my tongue and lips to the task and, when she held me even tighter as she “came,” a wonderfully warm feeling washed over me. I was so happy that I had “pleased my Mistress!”
And that’s when I made my first mistake by touching my nipple with one hand and my puss with the other (actually with Dottie I don’t have to “make a mistake” to be punished).
Screaming something about me being an ungrateful slug she grabbed my hair and pulled me on my knees to the bed where she sat down, hauled me over her knees, put one leg over the back of my neck, and began spanking me until I finally begged her to stop. I could feel my cheeks getting redder and redder and although I was being turned on more and more with the pain there was nothing I could do about it. I was not able to rub myself on her thigh, my arms were flailing in front of me and although my toes were touching the floor there was nothing I could do to move further on to her thigh or to stop her (or, more importantly, help my puss achieve the orgasm it desperately needed!)
With my ass on fire she pushed me off her knee and told me to “stay” and, like a well trained pet, I stayed where I was and did not say anything to her. I did rub my bum and the rubbing sort of made its way to my puss and nipples but she didn’t tell me not to and until she did (it felt so good) I wasn’t going to stop.
After she had dressed (nothing fancy, jeans, blouse, sneakers) I was told to stand up and put my panties on, up to my knees.
My nipples, now very hard, large and tender (I have very small breasts but somehow inherited nipples from breasts that are much larger – maybe from some Grand Aunt or someone?) needed attention but I kept my hands at my sides because, well, at that moment I didn’t want another spanking so I stood with my panties at my knees feeling foolish, embarrassed and humiliated while wriggling a bit (making me even wetter).
Leaving me standing like that Dottie went to her tote bag and brought back a vibrator shaped like nothing I had ever used. It had two parts, one to go inside my puss and the other to be placed on top of my clit (okay, I’ll let you in on the secret, it’s a Lovense Lush).
It is remote controlled and after making a “show” of showing me that she will control it through her phone she put the vibe in my puss, moved the outer tail (antennae) over my clit (I was THIS CLOSE TO CUMMING!), pulled my panties up, and, after telling me not to dare touch myself she told me to put my jeans on and finish getting dressed, but no bra!
I think my body went into some kind of over drive because despite trying my best to do as told my hands, knees and I think even my ears were shaking (is it possible for your ears to shake?) I was so damn turned on but stood almost silently (moaning at this point only made her smile and as I watched her put her phone in her bag I silently cursed her (the bitch!)
Then a certain reality suddenly kicked in … Hmm, I thought, this is interesting (as I felt myself getting wetter) I’ve seen them (the vibrators) online and I’ve read about some of the games people play with them and despite my hesitation to “publically participate” I knew I had no choice because to tell her I didn’t want to do it was a form of suicide and, with my “cheeks” still burning, I didn’t want any more of at that and, knowing Dottie, she wouldn’t stop there because she truly loves to torture my nipples and, while I do love that, I didn’t want to tempt fate any more than necessary by disobeying at that moment.
I put my jeans and blouse back on and as soon as I put my sneakers on she took hold of my wrist and led me out of the room for, as she said, dinner.
As we walked it was all too obvious that my jeans were holding the vibrator in place and it wasn’t going to slip despite my (hopefully unnoticed gyrations) while we were walking.
Now here’s a strange fact, Dottie is the only Domme/Dom that takes hold of my wrist rather than my hand and I find it makes me feel much more submissive. Is that something common to do or is it just something unique to me?
While walking I also could not help noticing my nipples trying to poke holes in my blouse. I should have worn the looser button down blouse I packed but instead had chosen a t-shirt that, at the moment, felt two sizes too small. Obviously others walking towards us noticed too (perhaps not all but some did) and when we stopped at the corner waiting for the light to change so we could cross the street I imagined everyone looking at my nipples (both those walking and driving) and wanted to just disappear somehow. Dottie, ever the sweetheart, took her phone out of her bag, looked at me, and told me that I was embarrassing her showing off my tits like that and I should be punished for being such a slut. Bracing myself I kept my eyes firmly glued to her hand as she put her fingers on the phone and then, with that hateful evil snicker of hers, she said something like, “perhaps later,” put it back in her tote and started pulling me along as soon as the light changed.
Dottie loves to instill fear in me. Whether it’s just before she is going to spank me, use a crop on my ass or breasts or thighs (especially my inner thighs) or when she is going to put clamps on my nipples or clit or all at once. The bottom line though is always the same. She uses fear to control me. And it works all too well because one way or the other, sooner or later, I am going to be punished and I am going to beg her forgiveness and for her mercy. Even though I know it doesn’t matter how much I plead or cry because (Mistress D) is both judge and jury. There is no “getting out of it.”
Sounds awful perhaps but, hey, that’s why I love her so much!
Finally we are seated, our table gives us a pretty view of the water and the breeze is so delightful and (gasp!) doesn’t help my nipples to calm down. If anything they seem to enjoy the “cool breeze” too much and they are beginning to hurt. I need to touch them. I need to put my hand down my jeans and rub my clit, put my fingers in my puss. I need to stop wriggling. I am horny as hell.
Mistress D hasn’t said a word to me since we sat down. She ordered house salads for us and stuffed crab for herself. I, on the other hand, must survive on my salad and a glass of water for being such an ungrateful slut (I knew I should not have poked my nipples against my top, embarrassing her, but at least I thought a condemned slave would be given a hearty meal before, well, before whatever it was she was planning for me).
By the way, her phone was on the table and every time she moved her hand or tapped the screen I stiffened up.
Each time my thighs scrunched together and I tried to brace myself for the inevitable but each time she would move her hand away from the phone and with that damn evil grin she laughed and told me to stop being such a wriggling worm and relax. It was a beautiful evening and I should enjoy myself for as long as I can (the teasing witch!)
After her dinner was served I tried to stay relaxed and calm (no such luck of course) but when she put a bit of the crab on her fork and asked if I would like a taste I eagerly leaned forward (not paying attention to the phone) and just before my lips touched the food she tapped the phone and I felt the vibrator come to life inside me. My body stiffened, my eyes felt like they were rolling to the back of my head, I wanted to scream NO, STOP, DON’T STOP, in only a few short seconds I was nothing more than the equivalent of a bowl of jelly. Shaking and trying to stifle my groaning I felt my whole body turn red. Even my toes were blushing. And, just as quickly, it stopped. I looked around the restaurant. I didn’t see anyone that “knew” what had just happened to me. But that didn’t matter. In my mind everyone knew and my humiliation increased a thousand times over.
“Did you enjoy the taste?” she said (and that is verbatim, it hasn’t been difficult, even a year later, to remember what she said).
Then she said something like, “what no answer? You know I don’t like it when you don’t answer me. You are so disobedient. I really have to do something about that.”
Now you might be expecting me to tell you how she “played” me like a fiddle for the rest of “her” meal but she didn’t. Instead she kept tapping her phone but didn’t turn it or me on again until we got back to our room.
So, yes, she did play me like a fiddle!
But she achieved her goal. Total fear, total control. I was her toy. She would do to me what she pleased, when she pleased, as she pleased. I knew, deep inside me (despite how wet I was and how desperate I was for an “orgasm”) I wouldn’t want it to be any other way.
Finally dinner was over, it was just a little before 8 PM so before going back to our room we did some window shopping. At least Dottie did the window shopping while I tried to keep my eyes on her hand (that was now holding the phone all the time).
And, not once did she turn the beast on. But it certainly did make me pay attention!
Back in our room, finally, I sat in one of the chairs and took my jeans,blouse and sneakers off. Panties were to remain on. From the dresser drawer that she had put the few things she brought with her she pulled out two pieces of rope (always the prepared Girl Scout) and tied my wrists behind my back and crossed and tied my ankles. Watching her get undressed I marveled, as I always do, at how athletic she looks. How trim she is. How her large breasts called to me and how her puss, now with a bit of a gleam when she took her panties off, also demanded my attention.
Balling her panties up while walking towards me I didn’t need to be told what to do (at least some points in my favor) and when I opened my mouth she put them in and told me not to take them out. No tape or strap or rope to keep them in. Only my own will power (which was fading fast).
Helping me onto the floor she got on her knees and pulled my legs back towards my wrists and with the loose end of the ankle cord secured me in a fairly comfortable hogtie.
“Comfy?” she asked and I, feigning some disinterest, quietly grumbled “yetthh.”
Now naked she made herself comfortable on the couch, turned on the TV, found some (to me) inane movie to watch and turned on the vibrator.
At first it was a slow low setting and while it made me wriggle and slowly grind my hips against the carpet, it was just enough to tease me, but not enough to give me the relief I desperately craved.
And, of course, she knew it too and over the next two hours or so I was brought so close that I was crying, mumbling through my gag, trying to beg her not to stop. But she played with me, and played with me and played with me. My panties were soaked! My nipples ached. I needed to come but was told, in no uncertain terms, not to and every damn time I thought I was finally going to come she stopped it. She just stopped it!
I however couldn’t stop aching or squiggling like an eel in heat. But every time I came close she stopped me. She would even get off the couch, roll me on my back, sit on my tummy, and wait for me to stop “humping the air.”
Then, when I finally calmed down she turned me back on my tummy, gave my ass a very good spanking, went back to the couch and like reruns on the TV started all over.
I cannot adequately describe how “expertly” she tortured me like that. There is an old saying or quote though that I don’t remember it exactly (which I’m sure a friend of mine will be able to correct) and it goes something like “suspended between heaven and hell (or earth?)” but in my case I think hell is much more appropriate.
In the end, as it was getting close to midnight she took pity on me.
Untied, ungagged (very humiliating to have soaked panties followed by a waterfall removed like that) and unplugged (oh how I missed that awful thing that was shattering my world).
She helped me up and took me to bed and, without anything more than a few nibbles of my nipples (it felt soooo gooood), I held her tight, pressed myself against her, felt her responding, our legs became tangled, and I finally, almost at the same time as she did, came.
I slept like a baby.
The greatest disappointments I had were first, we were only staying one night, two, after spanking me (again) in the morning after our shower she didn’t put that horrid monster back inside me and, three, after brunch, and after we put our bags in our cars, she pushed me against my car, put her hand in my jeans, put her fingers in my puss, licked my neck, pulled her hand out of my jeans, smiled, told me to have a wonderful day, laughed, tweaked my nipple, and went to her car.
Damn, she didn’t even let me touch her. The bitch!
As I got into the car she knocked on my window. I rolled it down and asked if she was going to haul me out and make love to me but she only laughed and said something like “No silly. I wasn’t able to see you for your birthday but I do have a present for you.”
Giving me a pretty box wrapped in pink and silver paper with small roses she leaned in, kissed me (on my lips) and said next time she was going to whip my ass.
Immediately I saw visions of that in my mind and couldn’t help but smile.
Watching her pull away I was suddenly a little sad. I knew it was only for one night but I wanted more and, although I loved what she did to me, I missed being stringently tied and gagged. I missed having my nipples tortured (even though they were still aching to be touched), I missed the crop and the clamps. I missed the mean bitch that I adore.
Almost absentmindedly I took the paper off my birthday gift and immediately saw what it was. The Lovense Lush in its box (complete with a charging cable, user’s guide and a note from Dottie).
To paraphrase the note read:
Liz,
Happy 50th Slut!
Wish I could have given this to you on your birthday.
So glad you enjoyed your gift last night.
When you get home follow the instructions and link your phone to it. We will have so much fun.
Love you,
Dottie
How silly I felt reading the note and becoming a little teary eyed (and a bit wet). Now I definitely wished we stayed another night.