There is no other way to say this, and I feel you, as my extended family and friends, need to know.
My Master, My Lover, My Owner, My life, has passed away peacefully in His sleep.
Category: Updates (Page 4 of 30)
When I met my Owner, he had a very nice life as a single man about town. He was handsome and had his own business. He had some of the hottest women in Phoenix on his arm. And he had his privacy. His home was his man cave.
From what His friends had told me, he has always been a Dominant person. He bows to no one. A girlfriend is shown the door if she gets too controlling or demanding. He is the ruler of his life.
Before me, he had women who came in and out of his life. They loved to play the slave games with him for a couple of hours or maybe a day or two, but after a while, they wanted more of him—more time to play, maybe a little romance, maybe a little commitment. He would dump them at that point.
He had one lady he called his “pet,” an unhappy married woman who needed that fix every few weeks. Her husband would be off on a business retreat or something, and she would come over like on a Friday night, get naked, and want the roughest, humiliation/sex-filled weekend he could give her.
She would clean his house naked and on her knees; he would beat her ass before tieing her down and fucking the daylights out of her. He would put him in a corner and leave her there for hours while watching a movie or something.
From the moment she entered the house on Friday until she left Sunday night or Monday morning, at least one of her holes was plugged. She was his cumdump, beating bag, whipping post, cocksucker, maid, and cook.
By Sunday night, they were both tired and sore. They both got what they wanted. She would leave his house smiling and return to her boring life as a trophy wife’ for another couple of weeks, and he would return to being Him.
To Him, He had everything he wanted or needed. So, was anything beyond that something to distract himself or have fun with? But when it came to His house, it was his domain. His cave, his. He had rules — partly created by that unhappy married woman. She needed structure.
He isn’t one to play word games or “maybe think about something.” To him, it’s black and white. You are in his world, or you are not. He doesn’t need you but wants you in his life. If you can’t handle that, it’s not his problem. Have a nice life. Next.
As he told me once, ” I would really love to have a hot little Italian sports car. But I don’t need a hot little Italian sports car. But if one became available, I would be happy to have it.”
He made it clear that in the first week, I was just a thing, a slave—not a girlfriend, not a wife. When he comes home, he is not coming home to a loving wife and a happy life. He comes into his hideaway, locks the door, and relaxes. His slave is there to make everything happen, to make his life as free from stress as possible.
I am his property; he does with me as he wants, even if that means I would stay silent the entire day as I did my chores (I loved every minute of that).
So, for me, I had to accept the fact that he would have girlfriends he would romance and have sex with whenever he wanted. But I was not a girlfriend, I wasn’t there to be romanced. I was there to be sexually used. he would have sex with me when and if he wanted to. He was in charge of my sex life. He doesn’t have to tell me if he’s fucking someone, but he does. (we both get tested regularly).
The nice thing about him is that he is not much of a rules guy. He has a couple of major ones; honesty and obedience are the big two. I don’t need to learn the 101 poses of a proper alive or anything like that. He has things a certain way and doesn’t want it changed for me. I am taught to serve him that way.
As an example, when he worked out of the house, and I was home before him, he came home; I would already be naked and kneeling at the door. I removed his shoes, kissed his feet, and waited for him to go where he wanted, and I crawled behind him. Other than “Welcome home, Master,” I don’t speak until he tells me to or asks me a question.
When His friends visit, they get the exact same welcome.
I am always shaved from the neck down, always nude. When out at friends’ houses, the ones who know. When I entered their house, I got naked and became their maid. It’s just automatic.
After he sits down and serves him a cold beer or other drink, I kneel in front of him at his feet. He may want to fuck me, have me give him a blowjob, or just leave him alone. It is up to him.
Often, He just wants me to worship His cock as he talks about His day; afterward, he may ask about my day.
His house is his pride and joy, and he wants it always clean and organized.
If I screw up, I am punished immediately or as close to immediately as possible.
What may seem like rules are probably things he wants to push me on. When we met, I told him I wanted to see just how far down the submission rabbit hole I could go, and he agreed to hold my leash as we went down that hole together.
At what point do I say “enough?” I don’t know.
His thoughts are the same as mine: at what point will he have pushed me too far? Let’s find out.
He never lets me forget, and I am glad for this, that in his eyes, I am not a person. I am his property, to be owned, cared for, and used as he would a fine car.
FYI: He has a couple of classic cars that he uses and treats very well as he does his slave.
Is that cruel or humiliating for me to live? Yes, but it gives him the biggest hard-on of his life and keeps me hot and wet like nothing else.
When you flip that switch and start thinking, “She is my property to do with as I want, without any worry, needs to ask her consent or anything like that,” you start to live differently.
He is always happy, relaxed, and smiling. Why not? He has this well-trained slave to make sure that he doesn’t even have to think about any little thing that would annoy him or waste his time.
Once I gave myself to him as an owned slave, he decides for me. He controls my life. The only thing that matters now is what he thinks. Once I got over the hump, I stopped worrying about what others think, and I felt so free and happy. My life got so much better.
But reaching that point takes a lot of trust, and I know that most people can’t trust that much in another person. It took me a year before I could do that.
Yes, this life is not for everyone, but it’s what I wanted, and I am so lucky to have found a man wanting to take on the responsibility of training this slave.
So I hope that helped.
Thank you for reading
I am always open to questions and love to read your comments.
Recently, I was talking with another slave online about being orgasm free and how when I am being fucked, it drives me crazy and makes me more of a submissive than I already am.
She has been orgasm free for two years, and so I wanted to know how it felt. She told me she doesn’t miss them, and every couple of months, her Master tells her to have one. She either can’t finish, or it’s so small that it’s anticlimactic. That’s why she doesn’t count them.
In a previous post, I explained how I fought against having an orgasm while my owner was trying to get me to have one. I won, but I was also punished because I purposely pulled His cock out of my pussy. I did that to let the feeling simmer down, and I quickly put my ass back in place for him to continue fucking me.
I have come to the point where that’s what I do. I don’t pull out anymore because then I get punished, but I physically struggle not to have one. In doing that, he enjoys my internal battle, which seems to cheer him on.
It’s almost like a game I am playing with him. You can look at it as foreplay or a semi-romantic gesture to give Him more enjoyment. And that has become my point. My fighting it and he has resulted in more pleasure for him.
Grabbing my hair so I don’t move. Pinning me to the bed as I struggle to slow His use of my holes down. More, more brutal orgasms for him, more cum for me to have and to swallow.
And giving him more pleasure as he fucks me, isn’t that my goal?
I know that my Boss has commented on that. He gets harder and longer when I struggle. My moaning, he tells me, is deeper and rougher than before. That means I get to be used. I am only interested in hearing Him cum.
Then in between fucks, I am to edge often. Get too close to the point, then stop. In doing this, I see him happier; he desires and uses me more. I get filled with his cum more. I also see that wonderful smile, knowing it’s because I served him.
My friend asked me to take a minute and think, am I missing them, or is it just because I talked about it so much that maybe I should miss them? Orgasms have been part of my talk, but maybe not how I feel.
And it’s scary to realize she has a point. I’m no longer actively desiring them. When I start to feel them build, I fight against them to win. I now enjoy the edging part more, the part where His cock fulfills me and satisfies me, so I don’t need to prove anything to him or me by screaming their name as they use me.
Just for clarification. Me not having an orgasm is what makes sex better for the man. It’s not the man who is having better sex without an orgasm; I need that cum to survive, to know I did my job well.
I hope that makes sense!
…..
This is my life, and I love it.
Love,
Bitch slave
(please leave me your comments and thoughts or questions)
Master-Sir has always said that he named me after an old female coonhound he had growing up. She would do anything she could to make him happy. He said that He could just look at her and see her smile as her tail wiggled like crazy. Her favorite place was lying at His feet as He sat on the porch and let life pass by.
No matter how mean he was to her or how cruel he was to her, she always came back to lay at his feet, wanting to be petted or roll over to get her belly rubbed. That, to Him, was me. His obedient, well-trained bitch.
Obedient Bitch
I will sit under his desk as he works and hold his cock in my mouth. Keeping it warm and helping him concentrate (so He said). And yes, if he feels the need, he can release his stream, and I will swallow every drop with pleasure. Saving him from getting up and hobbling to the bathroom.
When relaxing on the patio or in the living room, he is in his favorite chair. I will get him a fresh drink and be on all fours in front of him so that he can use me as his footrest while talking on the phone or watching a movie.
Other times, I would kneel at his side, holding his coffee cup in my hands until he needed to take a drink. Then, he would put it back and ignore me as he continued to work.
Being used as His furniture, I am also in an easy position for him just to take his foot and push me over. I know if I need to just lie back with my legs spread or put my head down and my ass up, letting him know my holes are there for his pleasures. They are open for him to toy with, spank with his belt or maybe fuck. His choice.
If he was in a playful mood, He sat in his chair and put out one leg. Tell me to hump His leg like the bitch dog that I am. I would do my best to look wrap my legs around his leg and humped it like I was in heat. I just can’t cum. But I do get his pant leg pretty wet!
Oh yeah, we were at eight months, and no orgasm for me. I never thought I could go that long without one. How foolish and greedy I was.
The truth is, I don’t think about them anymore. When I do, it’s a brief moment before I move it out of my mind unless he is teasing me, trying to make me have one. I focus more on his pleasures.
Miss Amy was starting to spend more time in the office in Reno than here. I think she was pulling away from him because he wasn’t fucking her like he used to. She will still have me lick her pussy for relaxation or to clean her out after they fuck.
My boss comes over to watch sports, talk shop, and use my holes. They like to talk about how they can use me more or maybe offer me to a new friend or business associate in exchange for some needed favors.
My former boss would take me to company retreats and tell them I was his personal secretary. For some strange reason, I was the only assistant allowed to travel with my boss. (smiles)
In reality, I was the cumdump for the bosses above Him. After meetings, they would come to His suite for some “private poker” games. They played poker; that part was true. But I was there for them to use me as they needed or wanted. It made my boss popular with the people he needed to keep happy and keep our department together. It kept me happy as I was well used for more than just taking notes!
So many upper executives live horrible private lives. Married but sexless or very vanilla sex lives. The wife is there to raise children, look good at parties and events, and keep up with the gossip at the tennis club.
In addition to the medical situation I have been dealing with this year, I am also dealing with some internal company changes.
Coworkers and other management people are starting to get curious about why I have never accepted any promotions to bigger, better things. Why do I want to stay in the back office of a hidden department, and why do I defend my boss as much as I do?
We have a good thing going. I keep Him relaxed and happy. I do all the detail stuff that he hates. I also do a lot of the nitty gritty work of others in the office so they can be out on the floor, leaving my boss and me alone.
He gets a blowjob with his morning coffee. Occasionally, He will take me to the conference room and fuck me. Then he likes to leave me there dripping and smiling. To return a little while later to tell me to clean up and get back to work. The slim chance of us getting caught always adds a little excitement to our adventures.
Because of all this, our department has great numbers every quarter, so the upper management people leave us alone to do our own thing.
A good owner knows to use His slave in all parts of his life. Not just the bedroom! in all parts of his life. Not just the bedroom!
I promise this will be my last sappy one for a while. After this, I will get back into my day-to-day life and musings.
I spent almost two weeks away from my Owner, dealing with a family issue that was resolved, at least for me, when my owner flew into town and listened to the issues and the stories being told. Then he decided they were all too toxic for His slave, and He took me out of there and brought me back home to where I belong.
He literally told the house full of almost every one of my relatives to “Fuck Off” and to call us when they pull their heads out of their asses and get a clue. He essentially burned a bridge that I now hope never gets repaired.
I saw the bad, and I saw the good. I also saw where I really belong and where I need to avoid. I am back to my real family—people who want, love, use, and understand me.
When I was in Chicago, at least I had a refuge at the end of the night. Once my brother took me home, I knew I could return to being the real me. When I was out and about, dealing with family, I spent all my time wearing clothes, a bra, and panties.
I had to try to converse with other people ( I am trained not to interrupt or talk when my Owner is in the conversation or other men I respect and obey are talking).
I felt strange as I forced myself to sit on the furniture and not try to kneel on the floor. I was required to sit at a table and eat like an average human, dressed. I know the issues of a modern-day slave in a vanilla world!
At my brother’s house, I was kept naked; I knelt on the floor, and I ate from His hand or a bowl on the floor in the kitchen as I usually would when I was at my Master’s home. I also slept on the floor beside His bed when He wanted to sleep alone or after using me.
If it wasn’t for my brother, who knows who I am, giving me that structure and that control that he did, I think I would have gone stark raving mad!
Now, I know some people have an issue with who gets to use me and how they use me. Yes, my brother uses me sexually when I am with Him. But much like my Owner, He is also there to hold me and let me cry on His shoulder. To keep me safe and to make sure I feel protected. We are adults, and it is always consensual.
While there, I relaxed by being naked, cleaning His house, and doing his laundry. He made up a shopping list (and I added to it), and I went shopping for Him. His car was washed and filled with fuel. I was His alarm clock as well as an appointment setter, personal assistant, his cook, and of course his cumdump.
Now, I am back home in Las Vegas. As I lay in my own bed with my bedroom door locked from the outside, I compared my life while I was with my blood family to my life here. I belong here, not there.
I had to congratulate myself. I finally realized that I had “crossed over.” I started out as a slave who wanted to go down that rabbit hole to see where it would take me. To where I am now, I have found my resting place as a piece of owned property. I now see myself as just that. An owned piece of well-cared-for and loved property. I am owned in every sense of the word.
I care only about his happiness. He decides how I should live, and I simply obey.
After this shit with my blood family, I feel more alive being back home, under His collar. I love being His, and I don’t want it any other way. If that makes any sense.
On my first night back, Master locked me in my bedroom and went to sleep with His girlfriend. I should have been furious. But I was very calm, and I never cried once.
At 5am, as I was waking up, I heard my door unlock, and it was my Master with morning wood. In his happy tone, “Good morning, my slave, on the bed, ass up, now.”
I did as He told me; I started to rub my clit to make sure I was wet, not knowing what hole he wanted.
He grabbed my hips and shoved His cock into my sloppy pussy. “Oh yeah….A sloppy pussy is always good for a quick pity fuck.”
“Thank you, Master.”
“I don’t even know why I am fucking you. Miss Amy was a tiger last night. She wore me out. Be a good bitch and when you come into the bedroom, Serve the coffee, then lick her awake. Make sure she’s clean for the day.”
“Yes Master”
A couple of hard strokes later and He filled my pussy with His cum, my reward. .
There was no foreplay, and there was no need to worry about me getting close to having an orgasm. He woke me up, fucked me, filled me with His wonderful cum, then left the room with my new instructions.
When I entered the Master bedroom with two cups of coffee, I saw Miss Amy wrapped in his arms, and I smiled.
That’s what I wanted to see. He is happy being with a real woman he loves and enjoys being with.
Master took one cup of coffee and gave it to her as she pulled the sheets back and spread her legs, kissing my owner as she did. She smiled at me as I saw Him take his cup and enter the bathroom.
I crawled onto the bed and found my place between her legs.
As my tongue found her wet hole and I got my first taste of my Masters cum mixed with her juices, she grabbed my head and pushed me deeper. “Dam Bitch, I missed you.”
I was missed just as much as I missed being in my happy place. …
More to come.
…..
This is my life, and I love it.
Love,
Bitch slave
(please leave me your comments and thoughts or questions)
Ok, I’m getting a few requests about my brother. Since my owner took down my website and we cleaned out all my writings on FetLife (long story), I guess I need to explain it.
Also, this is my life, and I know it’s not for everyone. I started down this rabbit hole to see how far I was willing to go as a submissive, then a slave, and I married a man who was just as anxious to see where it could go. It’s not for everybody and it is consensual.
Where We Started
My Owner and I were living in Phoenix, Arizona. Rule number 2, rule number one is that I obey. Rule number 2 is that I am to be naked when in the house or other private locations, except for when family and children may be present.
After months of being kept naked in the house, I got used to it. Friends would come over, I would serve them, they got to play with my holes and my boobs. It was my life and I was living it full speed.
Than I would get the notice that my family was coming to Las Vegas for a vacation and to visit. That meant when they were here, at the house, I was dressed as if I was a normal person.
I love my family, but I knew what would happen if they knew how I now live. The only piece of sanity I had was that my older brother and my Master became fast friends, so he would stay with us when he was here for conventions.
Being family, I stayed dressed in the remaining part of the house and the pool. when he was at the house. What I liked was that I could at least play slave to him by fixing breakfast, making up his room, and doing his laundry.
One night, He was out by the pool in the backyard, on the phone, dealing with some shit back home in Chicago.
From our bedroom, I could see him talking and pacing around, not paying attention to anything else. I could not tell you why because I had forgotten it after all these years, but I was about to be punished.
I was now naked and lying across the bed. since my brother was outside, Master left the bedroom door open.
Master sir started to slap my ass with the leather strap, telling me to count the swats and thank Him for each one. Then, he would ask me why He was doing this, and I had to explain that I had failed Him.
Just for information, I am never quiet. When I am being used for sex, I can be loud and animated. When being punished, if I am not gaged, I think the people on the other side of the world can here me!
My Brother caught the punishment and my loud words, begging for forgiveness. We were about halfway done when He came pushing into the bedroom, ready to rip my Owner’s head off for “abusing” his sister.
I had to jump up and stop Him. To calm Him down. He was telling me to get dressed, that we were leaving this wife abuser.
When He stopped breathing heavily and started to calm down, I sat Him on the bed while I knelt at His side. Telling him I wasn’t being abused. I had done something wrong, and he was punishing me for it. That He was my master, I was His slave.
After a couple of seconds of quiet, he gave me a strange look. He smiled while trying to figure it out, looking at my Owner and then back at me. He started to laugh a little.
We had moved to the living room; I got my men cold beers and sat at His feet to tell Him my entire story. I’m still naked.
After it was all done, He had a tent in His shorts, a smile on His face. He also told me that it all made sense now.
Growing up, he never really noticed my submission, but it was there. He was heading to college on a sports scholarship, so Mom and Dad would use that as an incentive for him to keep up his grades and chores.
On the days he had an important practice or game, he was focused on that and forgot to make his bed, pick up his room, etc. I would always come after him and do that as I was the last one out the door for school. After school, he would come running back home, hoping Mom or Dad didn’t see that he forgot his chores, only to find them done for him.
At family events, I was always dotting on the older men of our family, the men I respected and adored. Makign sure they had a fresh drink, their smokes, a snack, whatever, I was there for them. it was all natural to me.
Nothing sexual, but I was very obedient to them in my growing years.
He could now see that I was truly happy. As happy as He had ever seen me. So, after we talked, He was ok with how we lived but was not ready to see his little sister totally naked.
He wanted me to live my life as if he wasn’t there, just with a little covering. He admitted that he always enjoyed spying on me and seeing my big saggy boobs, so I was allowed to go topless when he visited, and He also watched as I was punished a couple of times.
He would come to Las Vegas for family events and conventions. After a while, he talked to my Master, and they agreed, it was time to just let me be me and my master be my master. I was now allowed to be naked when he was staying with us.
I was already kneeling between them at the table and being hand-fed by them. He saw when my owner loaned me to other men or I gave the delivery guy a blow job as part of his tip. So it was just the last natural step in the relationship
On each visit, he kept asking more questions about being a master/slave. We took him to a couple of events, and he met some submissive women and got to play with them.
I started to feel sorry for Him. At one point, He was having relationship issues, and He was constantly growing a tent when He was around the house, and I was naked. So, With Master’s permission, I offered to give Him a blowjob. After a bit of discussion, He accepted. (smiles)
He now has free access to me whenever he is here, or we are back home. When back home, we usually stay at his house.
After a while, He met a wonderful submissive lady who he later married, and she became my dearest friend. Unfortunately, she passed away last year from cancer.
I served Him
I’m sure by now you know how it was when I was back with my family and my owner was not around. I was my brother’s full-time slave.
I cleaned his house; I was his chauffeur. BTW, when in his car, as in any car with my owner, my top is down, and I sit bare ass on the towel on the seat. I can not move, change rooms, or use the bathroom without His permission, just like at home.
When we were at our parent’s house, dealing with the issue that was pissing everyone off, I sat on the floor at His feet. My father and he were the first two people I would serve meals to or get their drinks.
At night, I sleep in His bed. If he wanted to use one of my holes, he would have free access to them.
For my brother, it’s a fresh cup of coffee and a bagel to start the day. Then I get his morning toiletries out, run his shower to the right temperature, get a Fresh towel, clean razor, etc.… When he is in the shower, I fix the bed, lay out some clothes, then go to the kitchen and start my day.
Occasionally, he wakes up with morning wood. So, I will give Him a blowjob as He tells me why He woke up with an erection. Usually, he described it as an erotic dream of some lady he knew or worked with.
Using me for His cumdump as He fantasizes about a real woman is pure verbal humiliation, and I love it.
In private or at a club, he likes to have me wear a collar with a leash. When he drops the leash, I stop dead until he or someone else picks it up and follows them.
The one thing that stays the same is that even 1800 miles away, I still text my Owner about what I am doing, who I am serving, and where I am at all times.
This is my life
Some people don’t like it when I talk about serving my Brother or my Owner’s morning routine, so I try not to mention it too often.
However, I am a very open slave and want you to know the real story behind how I live. The good and the bad. As well as how I became this obedient slave.
Thank You for reading. Thank you for the questions!
Bitch Slave
Hello everyone.
Right now, my world is a little torn up and messed up. My job is getting crazier as we begin to plan for the F1 Grand Prix race in November. My boss is becoming more demanding, and my Owner’s recent medical issues are getting worse.
I am not in a good place to write about anything current. What I would write would be negative, soul-sapping dribble, and I don’t need to do that to you or add any more negative energy into my life.
Right now, what has kept me smiling is looking back to where I came from and writing to tell you all about how this wonderful man found me, trained me, and loved me like no other person ever did.
That’s what is putting a smile on my face now. So, I hope you are ok with me going down memory lane. Maybe this may answer some of your questions about me. I do know other people have told me that my blog and talking about being a well-used slave have helped them find their place in this kinky lifestyle.
So, if you don’t mind, I will write more about that and less about the day-to-day. At least until things start turning around and I have things to talk about.
Please let me know if you are ok with that idea. Or what you would like to read about me.
Thank you for being there for me.
Love,
Bitch slave
A Note: My Owner has been having medical issues related to His stroke earlier this year. So, His use of me for sexual pleasures has dwindled. It’s nice to know that He is a generous Master, and instead of letting me suffer, He has allowed others he knows and trusts to use me more than He has before.
I was Jack’s Toy
Several weeks ago, Mater told me that he was having a friend stay with us for the Labor Day weekend and that I would be his to use as He wanted.
He didn’t tell me that this “friend” was actually a Vegas casino legend, but I’ll call him Jack. He was well known in the Vegas power circles in the 80s and 90s, then suddenly vanished.
If you were in Las Vegas casino management or in the tight-knit power circle of the time, Jack’s name came up almost as often as Steve Wynn’s would. (Mr Wynn built the Mirage & the Bellagio). Nowadays, anyone from that era in casino management has a “Jack” story.
On Friday, we went to the private airport to pick him up. We watched this private jet land, and just one person, other than the crew, got off. He was an older man, I’m guessing in his 70s. He looked like he stepped off a Jamaican rum commercial: grey beard, sunglasses, Bermuda hat, and tailored suitcoat over a Hawaiian shirt and cotton slacks.
Master met Him, they shook hands, said their helloes, and then Jack took my hand and smiled at me. “So, this my toy for the weekend?” My Master introduced me as His slave, and yes, I was his new toy for the weekend. Looking at him as he was looking into my eyes, I was getting wet. He had such a firm handhold and that confident smile. I was loving the ideas I had about Him.
His only restriction was that I was supposed to be back home and ready for bed by 10 p.m. There were no overnight stays or long nights out.
At the house, they entered first and headed for the living room. I got naked and grabbed two beers for my men. Taking His beer, Jack had me stand in front of Him. “I have always had a thing for women of size. But in our businesses, I couldn’t be seen with one; they always had to be those brain-dead, pencil-thin, topless dancers from the casino shows. I always had to have one of them on my arm when I was in public. Turn for me, toy.”
He called me Toy all weekend. I did as He commanded. He stopped me when my back was facing him. “Bend over.” With my hands on my knees, I felt a couple of fingers entering my pussy and moving around. “ You weren’t joking. She does have a sloppy pussy. But for an old man like me, I may enjoy that more than a tight ass. We will see. Stand.” I stood.
As I stood there, they ignored me and started to walk away. I was left there to stand for an hour as they talked, and Master gave him a tour of the house and garage. Returning, Jack looked at me.”She is very obedient. I like that.” Looking at my Master, “I will have her back to your bedroom in an hour. Thank you, and good night. Toy, show me to my room.” I saw my Master smile as he went upstairs, and I took Jack to the guest bedroom.
In the bedroom, he had me stand alongside the bed as he undressed and handed me each article of clothing, telling me how to handle it. When He was naked, he sat on the bed, pointed for me to kneel between his legs, and watched a beautiful cock grow. A thick, tall, and well-groomed cock. Making my lips wet..
He explained that he wasn’t into talking much; I was to obey and stay silent as much as possible. Then he went into how he wanted me to wake him up and what he likes for breakfast.
He ordered me to unpack his suitcase; as I did, He laid back on the bed and started to masturbate that beautiful cock as he watched me. I was starting to fear maybe he was going to cum without allowing me to suck it.
Finally, I was told to get on the bed and do what I do best, suck his cock. I slowly worked that cock into my mouth; he kept running his fingers through my hair and leaning down to grab my boobs to play with. He told me I was doing good and to get it all in my mouth. He likes it that way.
In a few minutes time, holding my head down, He started to stretch and moan. Then I felt him cum. Filling my mouth with my warm reward. I moaned, hoping he heard my happiness. I thanked Him, and He dismissed me as if I were his secretary or a woman like that.
On Saturday, I gave him a tour of modern Vegas. He was shocked. I liked that as we drove around, he told me stories of what was here or there or about some famous person who did something there. Las Vegas history by a man who lived it!
He liked that as I drove, my boobs were out so that He could play with them. We stopped at an In and Out for lunch. We sat in the car; He ate His cheeseburger while I sucked His cock.
Saturday night, Jack didn’t use me, and neither did my Owner.
Sunday was a day driving around to visit people he knew. I was not allowed to say anything or ask any questions. These were old friends he trusted to keep secrets like his.
All I can say was that I got to give a blowjob to three men who I believe were very important people back in the day. I blew Vegas history.
On a side note, they let me wander the hallways of their homes and look at the photos on their walls. THAT was Vegas history! I loved it!
Later that night, Jack tried to fuck my pussy; he was anxious to get into it. But even with the blue pill, he was unable to. He’s seventy years old. He tried to apologize. Two sexual episodes in three days? It hasn’t happened since he was in his 50s. So He said.
That did not stop Him from trying! I was on the bed, on all fours, head down, ass up. I started to feel fingers push into my pussy, like all of them on the one hand; the other hand moved around and squished my boobs.
I started to feel the hand in my pussy start to fold into a fist as He started to work it in and out. I was being fisted! Something I had not done to me in a long time. And He was good!
I started to move in rhythm to his fist as it went in and out. He kept cheering his “toy” on to fuck his hand better, faster. I started to soak the sheets; I know I was. My Master told me later that he could hear me moaning from upstairs.
I had to apologize and ask him to stop. Otherwise, I was going to have an orgasm. So after the second one, He moved up to lay on the bed and had me give him a hand job. He wasn’t hard, but he wasn’t soft. So, at least, I could give HIM an orgasm. After changing the sheets, I was sent to my Master like the night before.
Labor Day was celebrated at my Owner’s Boss’s home/mansion/estate—the palace where they hold rocking swing parties! With many people from various resorts, nobody knew who he was, and he liked that. He enjoyed talking to them and hearing their modern Vegas stories.
A couple of people knew who he was, and they occasionally went to a private room to talk. My Master never told them how they connected or why Jack came out as he did.
Monday night, the little blue pill didn’t exactly work as planned. so we spent the night curled up in his bed, me sucking his cock, while he was watching whatever it was he was watching.
Sucking turned into worshipping, licking, and playing with his asshole. Finally, I was able to get him semi-hard. Hard enough to try to fuck my sloppy pussy. It seemed like a challenge he needed to conquer, and he did, sort of. With the help of my hand on His cock, He rode my pussy like a stud muffin he apparently once was. I could feel the head of His cock work itself into my wet pussy. Hearing his breathing increase as well as His fucking, I started to feel his pulse inside my hand and pussy; I smiled.
Mission Accomplished! I smiled as He finished pumping. I turned around and enjoyed sucking His cock clean. He enjoyed the surprise; he had not expected that. It was like we both accomplished something. He got to fuck a sloppy pussy, and I finally got to clean off a creme-filled cock.
Tuesday morning, I dropped Him off at the airport, and I went to work, tired, but happy. I was well used.
I know it was a long post, and thank you for reading it all!
Comments are welcomed
So, how did you spend Labor Day Weekend?
Love Always
Bitch slave