Continues from part four
Part 5: Valentine's
Through a lucky coincidence, both of the Valentine’s Days I had with my high school boyfriend fell on weekends, and my parents left me alone when they went out of town for their own plans both years. Some might call that bad parenting of a teenage only daughter, but I was really happy about it! I wanted to go “all out” for our first Valentine’s Day together to please my new Master and owner; we’d been together about 4 months by then – pretty long by high school standards – and sexually active for about 2, but it still felt fresh at that point in our lives when he was my first at pretty much everything.
I’ve talked a lot about the logistics and mechanics of our sex life, but I’ve never discussed the biology. Suffice it to say we used a lot of contraceptive precautions, and – since we agreed to stay strictly monogamous when we started having sex – I had recently managed - finally, after some doing - to work out “the pill” with a sympathetic family doctor. It was great peace-of-mind not to worry about condoms breaking or slipping, but I was also really excited at the thought of feeling his hot, bare cock cumming inside me! Now that I had been on it long enough to be confident in its efficacy, this weekend was to be our first time trying that, and I was absolutely thrilled!
We didn’t do much fantasy or erotic roleplay as we were already happy with our own D/s “roles,” but we had obviously talked extensively about our likes, dislikes, wants, needs, and fantasies. We both knew there were a handful of things we each wanted to try, and I knew one of the things he really liked and wanted was a French maid fantasy. So, for my “all-out” Valentine’s, I came up with a grand plan to surprise him by giving him the sexy submissive French maid he'd always wanted for Valentine’s Day!
This was actually a lot tougher than you might think, given both the time - Halloween, sure, no problem, but February? - and the year - long before Amazon Prime. I already had stockings and gloves, but what’s a sexy French maid costume without all the black satin and lace frills? I eventually managed to find a version of the outfit and accessories I was happy with at a local party supply and costume shop that carried stuff like that year-round, and I’m sure the girl at the register who gave me a look when I bought it could guess more or less what I was planning, but I comforted myself with the thought that I was almost definitely going to have a much better Valentine's weekend than her!
I had been taking Spanish in school for 4½ years to that point, but I learned a little bit of French in grade school. I wanted this night to be perfect, so I studied and practiced to get my accent down and learn a few key phrases and sentences; my Spanish grade suffered that semester, but oh well! I hoped to spend a good portion of the time gagged anyway, but I was determined to do this right, and do it well!
The general plan was to invite him over for a home-cooked Valentine’s dinner with myself for dessert! I told him I wanted to finally feel his delicious cock inside me without a condom now that I had birth control, and that – since I had the house to myself for the 2 nights – I wanted to actually, truly “sleep with” him for the first time. I didn’t tell him about the French maid, which was my special little surprise for him! Over several afternoons earlier in the week, between when I got home from school and my parents got home from work, I made several items for the dinner and froze them: pasta in sauce, a simple recipe of chicken breast filet, and a side of green beans. All the little pieces of my plan were falling into place!
When that Friday finally arrived, I could barely pay attention at school! I rushed home as quickly as possible after the final bell, more or less ignoring my friends, and immediately set to work getting everything ready for the night. I tidied everything up - what’s a French maid for after all - got the dinner stuff ready, put out a bunch of those little candles that run on watch batteries, to help set the mood later; and carefully hand-wrote a special, erotic note for my boyfriend on my most romantic stationary in my prettiest calligraphy. Now it was my turn to get ready!
I laid out the pieces of my costume on my bed: skimpy black satin and white lace minidress with white lace apron, choker, wrist “cuffs,” and headpiece; a new pair of white satin shoulder-length gloves from one of those mall accessory stores that carries stuff like that year-round but always goes nuts around prom; my trusty black satin garter belt; a nice new pair of sheer black stockings - taking a fresh pair of stockings out of their package and putting them on are two of my favorite things in the world!; my best pair of black patent heels; a prop feather duster – and no bra or panties! I took a luxurious hot bath, somehow managing to resist playing with myself, and groomed - cleanly-shaved legs and well-manicured nails are extremely important for wearing stockings! - brushing and gently blow-drying my hair.
Back at the bed, I assembled my costume. The garter belt went on first, fastening the hook and eye in front and turning it around behind me. I sensually gathered each silky black Victoria’s Secret stocking in both hands before rolling it up my smooth, porcelain legs, reveling in the feeling! I stroked each shapely leg, both to smooth out any wrinkles or unevenness, and just because I loved the sensation of the sheer stockings against my skin! Bad girl, I told myself; just get dressed already! I giggled to myself as my mind returned to my task, and I fastened each garter clasp to the stockings. I have a particular little face I make when I’m fastening my garter straps: a mixture of concentration and playful determination, with just the tip of my tongue poking out between my lips at the corner of my mouth. One boyfriend called it my “garter fastening face,” and I’m sure I was doing that here!
Next up was the main part of the outfit: the dress itself. It took a bit of doing to squeeze my 36C bust into the bodice - for a brief moment, I panicked that I had gotten the wrong size or something - but I eventually managed to wriggle into it and get it closed, with some relief. The smooth, skin-tight satin felt so good against my bare nipples, and I felt so naughty, I ran my hands up and down my body several times as I savored the sensation. It was all I could do not to play with myself!
Standing up, I stepped into my heels. I felt the familiar rush of seductive power heels give me, both as my calves flexed into their best shape and as I claimed their extra couple inches: I knew my legs looked good, and I loved showing them off! I also enjoyed the superficial tactile pleasure of silky nylon rubbing against my skin between the patent leather. Blushing, I sat back down on the bed to keep my balance, and took a moment to compose myself.
Tossing the gloves over my shoulder, I picked up the frilly lacey bits and went back to my bathroom and the makeup close-up mirror. I carefully affixed the headpiece and leaned in close to do up the choker, then gave myself a quick little makeup treatment, with some powder and blush to complete the effect. For one final challenge of dexterity before I donned my satin gloves, I carefully applied my most seductive, brilliant red lipstick, smacking and blotting it even. The absolute last step was to slip my arms into the long satin gloves and affix the lacey cuffs around my wrists. I always love the feeling of slithering into a pair of soft, sexy, satin gloves; it always makes me feel so beautiful, seductive, feminine, and desirable. Plus, it just feels erotic! Doing the Velcro on the cuffs was the little cherry on top; I was now completely transformed into the sexiest French maid my Master had ever seen!
I stood there at the mirror, satin-gloved arms akimbo on my lace-clad hips in a provocative pose, for a long moment – shifting my weight back and forth and turning from one side to the other as I admired myself and preened, rubbing my satin hands down my satin body. If phone cameras had been a thing back in those days, you better believe I would have taken pictures! God damn, honey, I said to myself, you’re INCREDIBLY sexy! and punctuated the thought by blowing myself a kiss with a wink and a giggle. I saucily turned on my heel and pranced confidently, seductively back to my bedroom, gloved arms swaying girlishly at my sides as moved, fingers outward. Between the way I looked and the housewifery of cooking and eagerly waiting for him, I had never felt so submissively sexy in my life, and I loved it!
I glanced at the wall clock, noting that I only had about 20 minutes before my boyfriend was supposed to show up for our… *ahem* “date,” and I still had a few things to do. Since I wanted to set the mood, I turned a few lights - the kitchen and outside - on and a few dimmers up a little, keeping the rest off, then went back through and turned on all the little electric candles. I retrieved the note I had written from my desk, kissed the bottom of the page to leave a big, sexy lipstick mark, and taped it to my bedroom door – I wanted it to be the first thing he would see.
Now, everything was ready! I retreated to my bedroom and shut the door most of the way, ensuring that he would see the note on the door before anything else. Turning the lights back down, I picked up my feather duster and waited the final few minutes, listening intently, for his arrival. I had long since given him a copy of the house key - so he could come and go as he pleased when we played on weekday afternoons - so I knew I didn’t have to worry about that, and he would let himself in once he got here.
Sure enough, after a short-but-tantalizing wait, I heard the familiar sound of a key in the lock, and the door creaking open. After a pause, I heard him call “…Linds?” An electric tingle went through me – I was bursting at the seams, but dared not spoil the surprise! Standing up with my feather duster, I thrust out my butt to highlight the gap between my stocking tops and my skirt as I assumed a stereotypical sexy French maid pose, and attempted to look busy with my “dusting,” preparing for him.
“Linds?” I heard again, closer; just down the hall from my bedroom. This was it! The moment of truth!
I could hear his footsteps pause, and the paper being removed from the door as it opened slowly over my shoulder. I pretended to ignore him, very deliberately attending to my exaggeratedly feminine “dusting” rather than paying attention to him as he read it:
My dearest, loving Master,
Tonight, I am not your Lindsay; non, ce soir, je suis ‘Fifi.’ I won’t break character unless you specifically command me to – if I do, please ‘correct’ me. I want you to do whatever your heart desires with me. I am yours, completely, in body, heart, and soul.
Happy Valentine's Day!
Your adoring, submissive pet,
💋
“What’s all this, hon?” he asked, eyes wide.
“Comment?” I looked up at him with my best “startled ditzy pinup” look, like one of those cartoons where the naughty maid is caught red-handed sweeping dirt under the rug.
“I… I said… ‘what’s this,’ Linds.” His brow furrowed a bit; he didn’t quite seem to be grasping it.
I stopped my pretend-dusting and looked at him in confusion. “Je ne se pas cette… ‘Lin-Zee,’ Monsieur.” I turned to face him straight-on. “Je m'appelle ‘Fifi,’ Monsieur.” I daintily pressed a gloved finger to my cheek and, with a slight smile, curtsied as innocently as a girl could, dressed like that with no panties!
I could finally see the realization dawning in his face, and he started grinning stupidly.
“Ooookay… So… ’Fifi’… What’s for dinner?”
“Ah!” I brightened, smiling and eyes wide, to reward his comprehension. This was one of a few things I had specifically rehearsed. “La spécialité de la maison.” I paused for a flourish with my feather duster, still in my hand. “Poulet dans le style de…” I beamed and, daintily resting my other gloved fingers on my cleavage, put every last ounce of my charm and adorableness into this last word: “…moi!”
He visibly chuckled to himself, but I continued, undeterred.
“Avec des nouilles et un légume, les haricots verts!“
“And then you for dessert, right?” He was still grinning stupidly and I could tell he had something else to say, but I wanted to retain my initiative for the time-being, so I cut him off. The French was a fun trick, but I was rapidly bumping up against the limits of my prepared vocabulary, and I had planned for this.
“Dez-zert?” I shook my head. “Je ne se pas, Monsieur… But…” I started in deliberately awkward English with a heavy phony accent, “eet wooed be pleasing to Monsieur, for Fifi to speak ze English, yes?”
He practically burst out laughing. I tried my damndest to stay in-character and just smile good-naturedly, and avoid laughing along with him.
“Yes, ‘Fifi,’ that ‘would be pleasing to Monsieur.’” He tried to put his hands around my satin-sheathed waist; as much as I wanted him to, I had plans I had to stick by! I gasped and feigned outrage.
“Why, Monsieur! Zees is most impropaire before ze dinnaire! Non!” I playfully swatted at his hands with a dainty satin hand as I backed away and assumed a dignified posture. I punctuated each complete clause with a decisive nod of my chin, but gradually melted into a saucier pose.
“Eet is eemportante pour Monsieur to eat, so to keep up ze strength… for lataire?” I said this last bit with as much seduction as I could fit into that fake accent, coquettishly clasping my silken hands cross-wise in front of me as far down as I could as I pursed my shoulders, waggled my breasts, and batted my eyelashes at him shamelessly.
He laughed again. “Very well, Fifi… but I would love it if my little pet could fetch ‘Monsieur’ something to drink before dinner…”
I gasped and touched my cheeks with my gloved fingertips. “Alors! But of course, Monsieur! ‘ow careless of me! ‘ow could I ‘ave been so, so… pauvre een mon duties? Allons, après moi, Monsieur.”
I gestured for him to follow, and led him – sashaying as sexily and saucily as I could, heels clicking like the tap of a crop on a naughty subbie’s behind and nylon-encased legs swishing as I moved – out the door, down the hall, and up the stairs to the dining room. I was so hot, I could feel my womanhood moistening, and I really hoped he noticed I wasn’t wearing any panties! I lead him to the dining room, lit only by the little electric candles, and pulled out the chair at the head of the table for him.
“Ici, Monsieur… Bien. I weell be right back weeth your beverage, Monsieur.”
I click-clacked away hurriedly to the kitchen, gloved arms daintily down at my side with the fingers pointed out effeminately as long as I thought he might have been watching. I pulled the bottle of sparkling cider I had been chilling out of the fridge and, along with a champagne glass, put it on one of the silver serving trays we used for big holidays. I composed myself, and submissively carried it out to him at the dining room table as though it were the Holy Grail itself.
“‘eere you are, Monsieur!” I called musically once I was back in his line of sight. He turned, and was suitably impressed by the sight. I positively beamed in satisfaction!
“Et, voilà!” I poured and offered him the glass.
“Thank you, Fifi,” he replied, smiling, after a sip. “Now, don’t you think you’d best get dinner ready?”
“Of course, Monsieur!” I smiled back, curtsied again with satin fingers on my cheek, and went to serve. Once I had gotten everything out on the table, I curtsied again and backed away. This was part of my plan, and I was hoping he would take the bait.
“What are you doing standing there? Aren’t you going to eat?” He had!
“But, Monsieur, eet is most impropaire pour un domestique to eat at ze table weeth ‘air ownaire!”
He considered this for a moment.
“I see what you mean. Hmm…” I could see the wheels turning as he looked around the room. Settling on the object I’d hoped he would, he gestured in its direction. It was all I could do to contain myself!
“Here, bring that big pillow over here.”
“Oui, Monsieur!” I did the finger-cheek gesture/curtsy again before sashaying off to retrieve a large decorative cushion resting in the corner, hoping he didn’t see the big smile on my face - but he probably did. Returning with it, I proffered it to him, and he gestured at the floor next to his chair.
“Set it down there, and kneel on it.”
“Oui, Monsieur!” I replied, eagerly, both placing and taking my place upon it as he directed. I only hoped I didn’t get any of my juices on it - kneeling on it, so aroused, without panties!
“There; now you aren’t actually ‘at the table’ with me, are you?”
“Non, Monsieur!” I beamed, looking up at him like a puppy. I could no longer contain my smile, and he smiled back, clearly able to tell I was happy.
For the next 20 minutes, he slowly fed me little bits of our dinner, like the adorable, submissive pet I was: kneeling at his feet, gazing adoringly up into his eyes, and nuzzling his leg and offered hand whenever I could. It felt wonderful to be such a submissive… piece of property of his, really! I was sooo happy with how this had worked out!
Once we had finished dinner, I cleared the table like the good little submissive maid I was - the one mildly unpleasant part of this whole “service” thing is that I actually had to do all the work, even in the fantasy - and returned to my kneeling position next to him. Apparently quite pleased with his surprise, he absent-mindedly pet me as I looked back at him contentedly, cooing and moaning happily at his touch. I could feel his eyes upon me, undressing and licking every inch of me with his gaze, and I was getting wetter thinking about it! It was intensely erotic!
“Stay right there, pet,” he suddenly commanded, getting up from his chair and walking out of the room.
“Oui, Monsieur,” I replied feebly, puzzled, turning my head to follow him.
I knelt there for several long moments, conscious of obeying. When I heard his footsteps return, I saw him carrying rope, and – though I didn’t want to say anything – my heart leapt! Without a word, he started carefully tying my wrists together behind my back, around the lace cuffs.
“What is zis, Monsieur?” I pretended to be confused, as though I were losing my bondage virginity.
“That, Fifi” he replied slowly as he worked, “is to keep my plaything restrained.”
Once he finished with my wrists, he moved on to my stockinged ankles.
“As is this…” He connected the two with a tight hogtie rope that would quite effectively prevent me from being any more upright than I already was. I had a good guess where he was going with this, but played along for the sake of the fantasy.
“Pourquoi, Monsieur?”
“This is why, pet.” He came back around to his chair and unzipped his pants. I blushed for real as I definitely figured it out! Though I was happy to oblige, I wanted to play out the thread of the fantasy.
“But, Monsieur, je ne comprends pas…” I put on my most innocent inquisitive look.
“Don’t they call it ‘the French way?’” He smiled devilishly.
“Ah!” I acted as though I had just figured out what he was talking about, and blushed both in true arousal and affectation. “Oui, Monsieur…” I replied, seductively, and batted my eyelashes. I was more than ready to please him, my pussy as wet as can be, but I didn’t want to come on too strong.
He finished undoing his pants, revealing his hot, already mostly erect manhood. Even though we’d been fooling around for 2 months, it still gave me goosebumps every time to see and touch it – let alone to have it inside me! I wiggled closer to him, and he smiled.
“What a good girl!” He said it with the tone one would praise a dog for a trick – patting my head – and I glowed like the little subbie I was, feeling my already moist pussy get warmer.
I licked my red lips, took a deep breath, took his hard cock in my mouth, and did my damndest to give him the absolute best blowjob I would ever give, or he would ever get. To the extent that I could, bound as I was, I used all the tricks my budding 17-year old sexuality had pieced together from women’s magazines, “that” aisle of bookstores when no one was looking, and general teenage girl gossip. I varied speed and pressure, went as deep as I could manage, moaned and hummed, made eager, liberal use of my moist red lips and tongue, and looked up at him and made eye contact from time-to-time – making careful note of his “feedback” as a guide for what I was doing.
I could tell he was in heaven from the look on his face; he was smiling, with his eyes mostly shut in that silent, relaxing pleasure like dipping a tired, aching body into a nice, hot bath. I smiled internally, happy beyond compare that I was able to please him so.
With that, I could relax and enjoy my own position as his sex toy. I lightly tested the ropes binding me as I serviced him; his ropework was flawless as always, and I writhed and struggled as I sucked him off. I felt so beautifully helpless, so thoroughly owned, and my pussy was sopping wet! I imagined my body in my sexy little costume: skimpily sheathed in skin-tight satin, glistening pussy provocatively displayed between my proudly stockinged legs, and bound on my knees before my Master. Damn, but I must have made quite the sight, and I very nearly came from the thought!
I could tell he was close. It was a matter of submissive pride that I take all of him, and I steeled my nerve and prepared myself for what was… *ahem* “to come.” I could feel the change in his body, hear the subtle difference in the way he was moaning; I took a deep breath through my nose and awaited.
Twitch.
The first spasms of his orgasm were starting. He groaned loudly as I felt the first hot burst in my mouth, and swallowed. More muscle contractions, more of his warm cum. I swallowed this next bit, and the next, successfully keeping up and not gagging; my mouth and throat muscles could, with some effort, barely accommodate his ejaculations. After a half-dozen or so squirts, his spasms ran dry, and I could feel him gradually soften in my mouth as I desperately caught my breath through my nose. I did it!
He slowly came back to himself, and gently patted the top of my head in a wordless signal that he was taking himself out of my mouth. I obediently licked him clean as he withdrew, and he positively radiated satisfaction as I smiled up at him!
“What a wonderful pet you are!” He stroked my face and hair lavishly. “I’m so proud of you for taking it all!” I smiled broadly and unreservedly, flushed with submissive self-satisfaction and incredibly proud of myself for managing to both please him so well and swallow all of him!
“Merci, Monsieur!” I wriggled coquettishly in my bonds, grinning like a kid at an amusement park. It felt so good to have pleased my Master like this, his helpless sex toy, bound on my knees.
He stood up, and slowly put himself back together. I noticed a lot of my red lipstick had transferred to his cock, and I secretly giggled to myself at how I had “marked my territory.”
“I have to come up with some way of rewarding my little toy for her fantastic performance!” he said as he zipped his pants back up, and I blushed. From our history to this point, it was a pretty big deal that he felt I deserved an explicit reward for something he had ordered me to do. I beamed proudly.
“Merci, Monsieur!” I repeated a bit more enthusiastically and squirmed happily, excitement at my reward evident.
“Here, let’s get you ready.” He went to undo the hogtie and I must have looked disappointed, because he laughed. “Just so I can get you down the stairs, you silly little slave.” I giggled and hoped it didn't show too much.
He continued to undo the rope around my ankles, then used one of the two lengths of rope to give me an ersatz collar and leash just above my white lace choker. Without undoing the rope on my wrists, he took a firm grip of my shoulders and upper arms and helped me up to my heels.
“Good pet,” he reassured. Once I was standing again, he kicked the cushion aside and took my “leash.”
“Now heel, pet.” He patted his side and led the way back down the stairs to my bedroom.
“Oui, Monsieur!” I replied in a submissive sing-song and followed obediently, shiny black heels click-clacking.
As I walked back into my bedroom, our bag of rope and bondage toys was open on my bed. He shut the door behind me and led me to the bed, close to and facing it. I had goosebumps, and my pussy was practically dripping from anticipation!
“Stay,” he commanded, undoing my collar. I stood submissively still next to the bed, breasts proudly thrust forward.
He gathered several additional lengths of rope from the bag and sorted them, then quickly and firmly pushed me over, down and onto the bed. I squealed in delighted surprise and laughed once I landed; I had more or less given up on my pretense of French sauciness. Ignoring my vocalizations, he pulled my stockinged legs as far apart as possible and tied each ankle to a bedpost along its long side. I was spread wide open for him, and there was absolutely no way he hadn’t noticed my lack of panties now!
He wrapped an additional length of rope around my upper arms, just above the elbows and below the tops of my gloves, and started pulling them as close together as we could collectively manage; we’d tried this a few times before, so he had a pretty good idea of the limits of my flexibility.
I heard him return to our toy bag and – after a few long moments – saw a wad of mouth stuffing appear before me. I pretended to yelp, but was actually opening obediently so he could silence me.
“That’s a good pet,” he soothed. I moaned through the cotton in mock despair and winked at him. He chuckled.
Next, one of our soft gags, fashioned from a pair of ruined stockings, appeared. He quickly and firmly seated the stuffing fully in my mouth, placed the nylon ball in front, and knotted the ends tightly behind my neck. The wad of stockings held the wadded cotton comfortably in my mouth, and the sturdy nylon didn’t give any slack once tied. I tested my gag – it muffled me very effectively! I’m sure what was left of my lipstick was gone at this point, but I didn’t care: I was now thoroughly gagged, and couldn’t have been more excited!
I heard him rummaging through my bedside table; evidently finding what it was he had been looking for, he came back around behind me and up close to whisper in my ear.
“I noticed you weren’t wearing any panties, slave…” I could feel two of his fingers stroke my wet, exposed slit. I positively melted in my bonds as I let out a long moan, and a wave of warm arousal coursed through me from my crotch up to my rapidly reddening cheeks and all 4 extremities. “Thank you for making it easy on your Master.”
“Mmph, mphmph, mm,” I mumbled a muffled “you’re welcome, sir” as I desperately tried to keep my head clear through the growing fog of intense lust.
“My pet has been such a good girl tonight… I definitely need to reward her…” It was then that I heard the buzzing sound of my little “starter” vibrator - the 3”, $7 “finger massagers” you see in dollar stores or the checkout aisles at Bed, Bath, & Beyond that are obviously just training vibes for teenage girls - he knew I kept in my bedside table, and knew exactly what he had in mind for my reward!
I felt the small vibrating piece of plastic just tease the edge of my moist pussy lips, his fingers brushing them. An electric shock went through me as he just lightly diddled my clit. I jumped and yelped, hypersensitive from yearning for release. He alternated sides, pausing longer between each stroke. He could tell I was sopping wet and was enjoying teasing and edging me, keeping me at intense arousal with no release – I was moaning for him like a wanton little whore!
Finally, the vibe’s tip kissed my lips fully, and he just held it there for a long moment at a low intensity, watching my frustration build. I groaned mournfully in a deep, desperate animal need for attention, and bucked and rocked against the vibe to the extent that the ropes binding me allowed, but he kept a light, unvarying pressure even as I tried to grind against it. I began moaning even more loudly into my gag, begging for release, and he seemed to take some pity as he finally pressed it inside me and turned it up.
“Oh, all right, pet…”
He made it sound like he was giving in to the demands of a spoiled brat after a tantrum. I suppose, in a way, he was, as my moans became a guttural groan of pleasure. He chuckled to himself and started drawing circles inside my dripping pussy with the little vibe. Still bucking and grinding against it, I moaned intensely every time it came nearest my clit on its arc, and he chuckled more.
“You’re such a horny little rope slut, aren’t you?”
“Mph, Mphmph, mm mph mmpphhm mphmm mph mmph,” I replied, gasping in pleasure; Yes, Master, I’m your horny little rope slut.
He stopped moving it around and pressed the tip right against the underside of my clit. I practically screamed into my gag as I came, all the pent-up pleasure washing over me in warm waves. I convulsed and writhed in my bonds as I moaned incoherently – I was extremely glad to be thoroughly gagged, as I must have been very loud!
Gradually, the involuntary muscle contractions tapered off, and my ecstatic moans softened to a murmur. My eyes were only half-open, and I was in a thick fog from the combination of the afterglow and breathless exhaustion. Only then did he pull my vibe out. I turned my head towards him as best I could and mumbled something completely unintelligible by way of thanks. He chuckled again.
“Did you enjoy that, slave?”
“Mmm-HMMM!” I replied, in a satisfied sing-song.
“Good…”
I could hear him rummaging – I assumed he was cleaning up and putting away the vibe – and then return to his position behind me. I was vaguely aware of the sound of his zipper and of him saying something like “Now it’s my turn.” All I could manage was a meek whimper: the spirit was willing, but the flesh was spent.
I felt his hands on my ass and thighs as he worked to get the angle just right. I felt the warmth of the head of his cock brush against my pussy lips as he teased me. I felt the intense rush as his hard, hot cock penetrated me, and shuddered, nearly orgasming again right away knowing that he was completely bare inside me! I moaned, reveling, and struggled as heartily as I could for his pleasure. I was his sex slave, his property, completely and utterly owned. My whole purpose was to please him, and I wanted to feel him cum inside me!
All of my dominants have always enjoyed my attempts to struggle, and he was no different: I could feel it in the hardness of his dick as he rhythmically thrust his shaft inside of me, and he chuckled happily.
“I’m so glad I have you helpless, slave – just the way you belong!” He slapped my butt while he continued having his way with me, and I squealed and giggled in response.
He continued riding me bareback from behind, and I continued struggling for both our pleasure as I moaned into my gag. I was in utter bliss, and couldn’t be bothered to pay attention to how close he was. I finally heard a low groan, followed by a sudden flash of intense warmth inside me that washed over my whole being. Then another – not as strong – and another. A completely seamless stream of ecstatic moans escaped from behind my gag as the sensation pushed me over the edge, and I trembled violently from one of the wildest, most raw orgasms I’d ever had! Never before had I been so happy to be used!
I don’t know exactly how long I sat there shaking, but by the time it stopped, I could feel him already starting to go flaccid from his own release.
“MmmmmMMMmphh…” I mumbled in extreme satisfaction as I let my head flop limply on the bed. I could hear him chuckle between panting from his orgasm and the exertion.
“What a GOOD little pet you are!”
“Mmph mmh, Mmmpphph…” (Thank you, Master) I whimpered meekly.
He carefully pulled out of me - spilling some of his cum on my carpet in the process - then tenderly cleaned up after both of us with my bedside tissues and a package of the baby wipes I’ve always used for sexual fluids. As much as I enjoyed that, one thing I will say about condoms: they definitely make for less of a mess!
I sat there, helpless, as he wiped my pussy clean, and I mumbled happily and incoherently through my gag, exhaustion, and a thick fog of afterglow, occasionally flinching as he wiped at my tender lips or brushed my clit. Once he had finished cleaning up after us, I could feel him start to untie my ankles from the bed and loosen my elbows. While I was perhaps slightly disappointed that my bondage was being undone, I was still too fuzzy in the head and short of breath to think too much about it.
“Stand up, pet,” he commanded, gently, and I slowly, very deliberately set about getting my high heels under me. Once I was at least somewhat confident in their ability to support my weight, I tried and failed several times to sit up before eventually getting to my feet. I turned and faced him proudly, beaming from behind my gag. He chuckled softly.
“Yes, you did a good job, slave,” and stroked my cheek. He kissed me around my gag for a long moment – I whimpered and cooed happily as I slowly caught my breath and returned to my senses.
“Now let’s get you ready for bed,” he chuckled lightly and smiled softly as he said it.
“Mpphh?” I arched both eyebrows in the most inquisitive look I could manage. He just grinned diabolically, and all I could do was squirm and whimper meekly.
“Did you have a good Valentine’s Day, Master?
We lay side by side in my bed, nude. He was on his back gazing lazily up at nothing in particular on my bedroom ceiling, his partially erect cock standing at attention from my naked body next to him. I faced him on my side – wrists bound behind my back, ankles and knees securely roped together – my ample breasts, erect nipples, and glistening pussy on full display for him. I looked earnestly into his eyes, eager for the dominant approval we submissives so crave.
“Yes, very! I know you did, pet!” He kissed my forehead sweetly and gently tweaked one of my nipples, and I giggled. “But you did a great job on the whole French maid thing, which was a great surprise! You're actually an amazing actress, in case you didn't know. The dinner was also very good – I don’t think I got to tell you that earlier. I don’t think any girl has ever cooked for me before!”
I blushed in satisfaction. “Thank you, Master. I try hard to please you, and I’m so glad I could.”
“You do, because you’re such a good, attentive, and conscientious little slave.” He also turned onto his side to face me directly and groped my bare breasts. I could see his cock harden and smiled inwardly, thrilled with the effect I - and my body - had on him.
“I’m so proud to have the best pet in the world!” He kissed me passionately on the lips, and I positively glowed in submissive satisfaction, squirming in my ropes as we made out. After a long moment, he softly pulled away.
“Ready to sleep, pet?” After several months of sex and play, this was it: we were finally going to actually spend the night together like a “real” couple!
I writhed tentatively once more, looking idly off into space as I estimated my bonds. Satisfied that I could comfortably endure the night trussed like this, I nodded enthusiastically.
“Yes, sir!” I intoned in an eager, submissive sing-song, and he smiled.
“Then goodnight, my pretty little Linds-pet,” - I thrilled at the new pet name - “and happy Valentine’s Day.” He took my chin in one hand and sweetly kissed me one last time before rolling over to turn out the light on my bedside table.
“Goodnight, Master!” I replied. I happily snuggled up into the crook of his arm and shut my eyes, his helplessly bound love slave for the night – and much longer!