Righting wrongs – anal master-slave BDSM dildo sex fingering

“You can cum. Cum for me, good girl.”

Just hear her say that the words brought her to orgasm. His sex convulsed around him, his mind closed to everything that was not his. The dilet in her made the sensation even more consuming. Emma was not sure she had been so close until he ordered her to. She came down firing into the air. Master shot her at him. She snuggles up in the crook of her neck. Wrapped in her arms, wrapped in the duvet, she listened to him fall asleep.

Tonight had begun like so many others before it. Monsignor left for breakfast the day after breakfast. They ate together in the living room now. He cooked, Emma cleaned. When he finished, she was done. Like every morning, she took her plate, put it in the sink and came back to kneel before him. He sat in his chair, dressed in warm clothes; the days were getting colder and colder. Once in position, she gave him a cheeky look to let him know she was ready, and he said the words he did every morning.

“Show your Master how much you will miss him.”

Emma loved hearing those words. He looked husky and intimidating when he gave command. Without fail, a shiver would flow down his spine. She always kept eye contact in the morning; she liked to watch him unravel in her mouth. There was something intoxicating lying about watching his eyes roll in the back of his head, feeling his hands pull it on his cock, hearing it growl and moan as it spilled into it. She didn’t mind finishing her breakfast early so she got to swallow her sperm. If anything, it was dessert at his breakfast.

He was leaving then. The rest of his day was always incredibly boring. Time dragged on until he came home, even though she still had something to do.

Although things didn’t get off to a good start, Emma couldn’t imagine being anywhere else now. He had saved her, really. She often thought back to those first days, that first encounter, and although it was horrible at the time, nothing better could have happened to her. Every night she went to bed safely in her arms. She awoke to kisses and tender touches. She started every morning with a full stomach, the food he provided her, and she was learning things. She could really say that she was happy.

When the sun started to set, Emma finished everything she was doing. It was his favorite part of the day. Butterflies were flaking in her stomach when she noticed the orange sky. Time would start to move again, finally. She checked every room, making sure everything was in place, clean, tidy.

Every three days, Monsignor expected her to lean on the table, ready for a short spanking of maintenance. Today was not one of those days. Monsignor told him this morning that tonight was going to be different. He wanted her to lean over the table with a bowl under her. That’s where she was now: bum up, legs spread with a bowl between them. Emma knew she had wet during the spanking: it was going to be embarrassing how wet. She was still wet now, eagerly awaiting her Lord.

Not on the porch: he was at home. Butterflies floated. Tight muscles. The door was unlocked, opened, closed, and was locked again. She knew not to look behind her, so she followed the lines in the woods. He slammed, went upstairs, downstairs. She waited. Well, it’s fascinating. Then he stood behind her. His fingers skimmed on his, traveled between his cheeks and directly into his waiting hole.

“You’re very wet, you mean.” She could hear her proud smile.

He fucked her with his finger, wetting her.

“Hello, sir.” She could have fun now that he didn’t ignore her. “How was your day?”

“It’s about to get better.”

His Guardian then pulled his fingers and lifted them from his split to the tight, creased knot just above. She squeezed instinctively.

“Relax,” he silenced her.

He massages the knot with firm circles, sliding on all the small bumps of his wrinkled hole, spreading his juice. “Spread those cheeks for me, good girl.” His other hand stroked the cub with his back, as if he could comfort a nervous animal.

Emma’s heart was beating like a hummingbird. She’d done this before and it’s been terrible every time. It hurt and it was messy, and dirty, and just disgusting.

“Please, Monsignor, I really don’t want to, will it hurt so much, please?”

“Am I not the first to fuck you here?” He pressed a little harder, continuing to massage her.

“No sir, I’m sorry.” She was sorry. She wish he could have been the one to pop that cherry. The two cherries.

“It’s disappointing.” He made her feel like a naughty girl. “Did you like it? I bet you did, little bitch.

“No, I don’t have sir, it hurts. Please don’t do it,” she pleaded for the last time. Either he was going to give up that particular hole, or he was going to claim it there too, his pleas probably made no difference. He would do what he wanted, whether she did it or not.

“Shh, shh, it’s good. I promise it won’t hurt. If you do what I say, and you’re a good girl, I think you’ll find it very nice. Now spread your cheeks. I’m not going to ask again.

The warning was clear in his voice. She had no choice but to obey.

“Well done.” His fingers disappeared momentarily, but then returned to his creased, wetter than before. “Now push,” he urged.

Emma didn’t want to encourage her too much, so she gently relaxed her sphincter, barely pushing. His fingers caught the edges of his cheeks. Behind her, she could hear Sir taking off her clothes.

“We’re going to need a lot of lubricant for that,” he says, leaning over her to whisper in her ear. She could feel her resting against her thigh, the warmth of her back leaning against her body. That’s how comfort felt, if she didn’t know what he was going to do. Fingers caressed along his ball. “You’re already wet enough, but I need you soaked.”

Emma moaned, ignoring the inevitable, focusing on the tingling of her left behind touch.

Her lips advanced along her neck, licking and nibbling at sensitive skin. She’s lost the ability to think in a straight line. His mouth against his skin, the sound of his breathing ran shivers down his spine; These clever toy fingers with its sex, border on and build its highest. It was too much for Emma, and yet, not enough. Everything he did was frustrating: slow and controlled just to tease her.

“That’s all, good girl,” melted her voice in her ears.

His Lord’s lips reached the base of his neck. Emma was a mess of moans, sighs, and trembling need. His fingers entered again, without haste, as the kiss resumed behind his back. He kissed her to the base of his spine. Although she enjoyed it, it meant that her fingers were removed from her. They soon found their way to her nipples though, twisting them into small hard buds. She was writhing under him.

“Does it feel good?” he asked.

“Yes Master,” she sighed, arched her back, as a shot of electricity flowed from her nipples to her clit/cenlit.

He then stole her fingers.

“You are very, very wet, naughty girl, you have filled a whole bowl!”

damn, she had forgotten the bowl. It’s so embarrassing.; she could feel her cheeks burning. His fingers went back to his. He pushed a right past his sphincter. He slipped. She had been so distracted by her lips and the feelings he was causing in her that she completely forgot about that hole. She moaned, stretched around her finger. It was a strange mixture of fun and the strange feeling of being stretched. If she had not tested the sensations, she would have presumed to be suffering. She pushed against her finger, then squeezed her again. That was rude. She tightened and tightened a few more times. He stood motionless inside her, waiting for her decision. Emma decided that she liked it to take her there. Everything there seemed so much more receptive; she could feel every inch of her finger, even the grooves and crests of each joint. No doubt he could feel that she had made up her mind.

“That’s it, what does it feel like?” he asked in hushed tones, dragging his finger.

“He feels very mean, sir, mmm.” He was pushing his finger away. “I like it,” she confessed.

“Well, it’s because you’re my naughty bitch. You like to do dirty and nasty things for your Master, don’t you, bitch?

“Ahh, yes Master, I do!” Her finger slipped faster and she couldn’t help moaning her words. He surprised her, how much pleasure she found in the act. She would have liked the voto stretch it. “Monsignor, can you put another finger in? Please? She wanted that a lot. It was so bad and bad, that’s why she needed more.

“I don’t know, do you think you’re ready?”

I said, “Yes!”

In response, she could feel him pressing another finger against her.

It didn’t slip in quite as well. The addition of another finger only increased its sensitivity. This strange experience of being expanded was back. Slightly uncomfortable, though pleasant nonetheless, it would take some getting used to. She would certainly need more anal to know. She breathed, helping him relax. Soon he sawed off his little creased with two fingers, while Emma moaned and sighed for him, raising his to greet his fingers, then grinding on the table, trying to get some friction on his clit/head.

“Are you ready for me?”

Fear tied in her stomach. The circumference of her fingers hurt when she squeezed to think more. She appreciated it now, but it was much thicker than two fingers, and much longer too.

“I don’t know,” he replied honestly.

“I think you’re. Expand your cheeks for me.

Emma reworked, grabbing her cheeks and pulling them further. She really hoped it didn’t look ugly. She could smell some of her juice on her fingers.

“Breathe Emma, you’re getting tighter.”

She knew that, her fingers felt more and more like an invasion there, rather than the welcome guests they had been. She sent off a heavy sigh, pushing around her fingers simultaneously. He took off his fingers, immediately replacing them with the big bulbous head of his dick. It was much larger than what he had prepared for, and would not enter. He forced himself against the tense hole. Emma could feel him shuddering against his weight, could feel her heartbeat pulsating around the intruder limb. She exhaled again, forcing herself to calm down. With this, the round and smooth head of her cock tightened into it, stretching it wider than it had ever been before. Emma still couldn’t tell if it was pain or pleasure, but she wanted more of him, if only for him please. She hoped he’d finish soon.

Master gave Emma a minute to get acquainted with the sensation. His muscles were pulsating. She could feel her heart beating in the thin skin around him. He moans behind her. She clung to her sphincter, adoring the tense growl she opened from her mouth.

“I think you want more, don’t you slut?”

Emma pushed back on his cock, taking over from him.

It was frustratingly slow, but they both relished his possession of his. In between, they gradually impale Emma on her dick. I mean, he was in the stencil. The fullness was overwhelming. Her were hanging low against her sex. The slight handful of hair tickled her hairless lips. Her nipples hurt and beat against hardwood. His whole body was on fire; all nerves open and exposed. His Master: conqueror of everything. His mind and soul, and now at last, every inch of his body.

He began to move into it then, pulling before crawling again. Emma took off her hands, placed them on the edge of the table, in case she needed to hold. He kept the movements steady, constantly filling it, as far as he could. Although the feeling was familiar, drifting as much pleasure from the was a completely different experience. The more he took her, the more she moaned and moaned. He seemed to caress a secret place right in it, building a fire at the bottom of his body. He pushed her, her thrusts accelerated, adding more wood to her fire.

She could feel her climax rising in her. To be cumming of his was perplexed, hypnotic. It was so much more intense, deeper. It could be anywhere in it now, any part of its physical self, everywhere, and deep within it. Everything was blurred into one, this cavernous pain, gnawed by the depth it took to her, seemed to come from a place inside her that she had never known before. His hands on his hips were faint memories, a distraction for the present.

The walls of her shuddered, but they had nothing to tighten. His clitbe, buzzing with despair to touch, remained neglected. Her whole body trembled with the powerful force of her orgasm. The stretched hole was so much more insightful than its sex; she felt each smooth bump and the crest of her cock widening the tense muscles. She knew he was cumming, in addition to grunting, his cock pulsating as he spilled cum down her ass. The drops hit somewhere in it, she felt all of them.

He slumped over her. She was happy to have the table; otherwise, it would not be able to stand. Both gasped and gasped for air. It had been the most intense fuck she had ever known. Its too, probably. They lay there, breathing heavily, for an age. It was only when She got angry that Emma stirred herself. He withdrew. A trickle of dribbling sperm. He ran along his thighs, hot and damp.

“Naughty, wicked. Don’t you want your master’s sperm in your? He hit his bottom slightly.

Emma tried to squeeze, but it didn’t come back. The fresh air hung around his gaping. He laughed, looking at his unsuccessful attempts.

“Don’t move, I have a present for you.”

She heard him running to the room, and then came back quickly. She turned to see her gift. In his hand was a big red dilo. It seemed to be an exact copy of it. He wasted no time in showing her the gift. He pressed it directly against the gape. He slipped in it. Exactly its size and shape. Perfect for her. The only difference she could say, once fully in it, was the bulbous ending he had to persuade in it. It shrinks again to the thickest circumference of Master. It was the rod; her goal of keeping her open at her widest point. The flared base prevented her cheeks from closing properly. She got up to face him, feeling very full.

He looked at her with such pride. Emma was disappointed with what she needed to tell him, but she didn’t feel comfortable. She hoped for mercy.

“Sir, I love it, but I wouldn’t mind giving him a little time to close down a little bit. Can you take it out please?

“No, I want you to open and be ready for me all the time.”

Shame for asking, Emma’s eyes fell on her violin fingers. She had a hard time ignoring the pressure in her hole.

“It will never come out,” he said, pulling it towards him. His arms wrapped around his waist. “You’re going to sleep, shower and eat with my dick.” He seemed very satisfied with himself.

It wasn’t going to last long. She couldn’t carry that day-in-day-out.

“No, my Lord. I don’t want to wear it all the time. I can’t, ” She paused, put off by her exasperated gaze. It was hopeless to argue with him. His word was his law. “I’m going to wear it anyway, won’t I sir?” Emma was penitent.

He nodded it.

“But what about when I need to go?” That’s what worried her, she didn’t understand what he meant by “all the time.”

Monsignor rolled his eyes, “Of course you can take him out then, but he goes straight in.”

She was breathing; and it’s a certain relief, at least.

“Yes sir, right now.” Emma entered him, noticing how her copy pushed at her. She huddled in her chest, exhausted with energy, worshipping the way her arms tightened around her.

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Fixing the wrongs