0 comments/ 12404 views/ 1 favorites If You Kiss Only Me By: HisPossessed He'd decided to lie in that morning to luxuriate in his own limitless imagination. There were hours before he would leave for the train, so he stretched on his back, relaxed and warm under the sheet. Soon the images, some familiar, others unexpected, streamed before his closed eyes. There she was again, his slave, and he smiled at the imaginary version of her. She was still in her dress, but already on her knees, such was her hunger for her Master. Her mouth overflowing with the hot saliva the scent of him inspires, she bathed his cock with her tongue and welcomed him into her throat, softly biting from time to time because that's how he taught her and to express her fierce appetite for him. And then it wasn't only her, but another woman kneeling beside her, holding his slave's hair, guiding her fellatio. His bisexual slut shared his fantasies of serving him by demonstrating her devotion in front of a woman they both found attractive and of the right mindset. The woman could observe their play until her arousal was apparent, then his slave would be expected to serve her at his instruction. His slave knows she is not the one who possesses, but does shift between arousal and the apprehension expressed by, "If it pleases you, Sir." She's jealous, he knows, and so left finding a woman to her; this woman would be her girlfriend first to keep his possession occupied in his absences. He knew she'd drag her feet, but even if she'd searched obsessively, the chance of finding the right woman would be slim. Both Master and slave knew how rare it was that they happened to fit like hand in glove after she'd brazenly approached him online. It was hard enough for the two of them to meet for their encounters and to try and coordinate a third person... Still the impracticality didn't stop the kaleidoscope of female possibilities from playing through his mind. A brunette with full breasts and wicked eyes—just his slave's taste—now entered the perverse mental venue and he lay there enjoying the feeling of his own arousal, the rising erection touched only by the sheet. It was almost time to get up. It would be better, anyway, to wait for his slave's service. He stretched his long limbs, let the fantasy girls evaporate, and left the humid bed to go to shave for the slave girl he'd meet later. Her Master shaves close so her pale face won't be rubbed too raw from the hours of kissing. He bathed and shaved again to better feel her exuberant tongue against his balls. The erection does help with the razor work... He stood to rinse and dress in the clothes that express who he is as her Dom, the ones that suit him so well and indicate to her he's different from other people. Knotting the black neck tie he recalled the look in her eyes sure to be there once again when she'd be untying it to undress him in a few hours. The implements are all at her house by this point, so he can travel light. Passport, cash, iPod, straight razor and her Master was out the door. He thought of her in the crudest possible ways the whole trip north: The way she forgets her place when she sees him and throws her body against his at the station, the way she crawls for him on her lead to their room, leaking moisture down her thighs, and the delight in her voice at each chance to respond, "Yes, Sir." Any form he wants her service to take as the mood strikes him is possible when they are alone in their room, which makes every delay on the tracks all the more irritating. It had been too long since she was in his grasp and he was losing patience with the American rail system. To make it worse, there were obnoxious students seated behind him who seemed to think everyone would appreciate their humor. When he turned to tell them to shut their fucking mouths in his harshest voice, they did. Dom skills are useful for all sorts of situations. The train was about half an hour late. His slave had no way to reach him and was letting a guy commiserate and flirt with her to keep her mind off the sinking feeling that something was wrong. She was only half-listening, but when he said, "Oh, here come some people now," she became alert and instantly spotted her Owner. Without a word, she ran to him, and hardly taking him in with her eyes, collided with him, passionately telling him of her relief to see him with motions of her tongue deep in his mouth. He smiled as he accepted this welcome—she is so predictable and was obviously overdue for her next training, which would start as soon as her more serene submission took over and she removed her fingers from the soft spikes of his hair. He regained control of the kiss, leading with his tongue to slow hers, and bent her head back while still holding her close to put her off balance. He felt her body go more limp in his arms as she surrendered again; she did so a bit deeper each time. "You're wet," he observed. A light rain was falling that smelled like the ocean. "It's a nice night, Sir. Would you like to walk a bit?" He pulled her tight to his side and they set off to the blocks of bars where there would be taxis on a Saturday night. She nuzzled her head against him and he could feel the submissive contentment radiating from her. He was eager to get his hands on her in more perverse ways and speculated about how long they would walk before a shadow presented itself, but there was a taxi right over there... He opened the door for her. His slave crawled in in her clumsy way, as if she had never worn a dress before, giving him a flash of bare skin above her stockings. 'She is sluttier than she knows. And she's mine,' he thought to himself. In the back of the cab, his hand was easily up her dress and her legs fell open for him naturally as they talked. "I'm so glad you're here, Sir." Her eyes glittered with what could be lust or tears. "I know you miss your Owner," he said in his soothing voice. The tension from travel receded in her calming presence. He slid his hand further up her inner thigh. "Possessed," he told her, using the name that's become more real to her than her given name, "I have a surprise for you." He knows she doesn't like surprises, and was being a bit cruel in wanting to see her reaction. Her every thought is visible to him on her face and he wants to see how she will react. Just as he expected, her eyes widened and she blushed as she does when she's confused, but she recovered quickly. "I have one for you, too, Sir." "Is it something I will have to punish you for?" "I don't think so. But I hope it makes you want to!" "Just so long as you obeyed my other instructions, surprises are acceptable." Something was different in his Possessed this time. Though her Master liked to be surprised, being far more fearless than his slave, he did think there was something out of character in her behavior; talking about surprises was unlike her and her voice had a peculiar edge to it. They arrived at her apartment. Instead of rushing to get in the door like she always did, his slave did not reach for her keys—she reached for him to give him a long, expressive kiss full of a meaning the felt almost like goodbye. He realized, as she caressed him and pulled him down to meet her lips, that they would not be alone once on the other side of the door. This was a last moment of privacy, maybe a plea for leniency if she had chosen badly in this surprise. When he pulled away he gave her such a knowing look she could not meet his gaze and turned key in the lock quickly to escape this painful shyness, to have just a moment with his back turned as he entered. "I hope you didn't worry we weren't coming back," his slave said to the woman tied in the chair. "The weather caused delays." "You had to come back. You live here," the stranger said with a teasing smile, while looking only at the Master, not the slave. The woman called Possessed took his coat, happy to be avoiding his gaze, watching her new friend observing with pleasure. She walked to the closet, a smug little smile of sub pride on her lips. She was happy her captive didn't hide her approval of her Master and was aware she already looked more disheveled than when she left her girlfriend there an hour ago. When she returned, though, her Master had a disapproving look she'd never seen before. He still had not spoken. "Possessed... You left her tied up unattended?" Her heart skipped a beat and she realized this situation was beyond her experience. Her new friend saved her. "No! It's not her fault... I wanted to be tied up, but she said we had to make sure I could get away if I had to... Sir." "So you aren't actually bound to that chair?" "No, Sir. I just want to be." He exhaled and the concern was replaced with curiosity as he looked at his slave, who told him, "I am not as crazy as I seem, my Love." The jealousy she feared would overtake her simply was not there and she remembered her manners. "Sir, this is the girlfriend you sent me. Thank you." And then, asking for punishment: "You can touch her if you want to." He looked at the beautiful bound woman and recalled the personal ad he'd forwarded to his slave months ago. Looking right in this stranger's eyes he said to his slave, "Are you giving me permission? Come here and I might forgive you for that." She walked to stand between him and the woman here now because he made it happen. She knew his eyes were taking in this new person, so out of place where they are always alone and also just as they'd each imagined: Nothing like his slave. She was tall even seated, with more muscle and flesh than his possession. Her fair hair was dyed nearly black and elegantly cut to frame her appealing expression lines and dilated eyes. Her skin was light, but without the freckles and artwork of his slave. Her fashionable dress signified she's no fetishist, but it fit her well even as it rode up and slipped down with her breath. And she said she wanted to be restrained for real! His slave whispered in his ear as she stood before him, "Isn't she pretty?" "Like her more than your Owner?" he whispered back, his gaze not straying from the strange woman. "No!" She laughed loud enough to cause her to turn to her girlfriend and smile as if to say, 'We are not laughing at you at all. You are lovely.' "I have a surprise for you, too, as you may recall," her Master said only loud enough that both women might hear. He saves his voice. His slave was confused, expecting a punishment and not her surprise. He lifted her dress enough to signal she was to strip for him. Out of that little black dress, she looked in his eyes--they were so clear she was relieved he was in control of this scene she created and that he might even like it. "More?" "No. That's enough, but you have to keep very still. Promise me." "Yes, Sir." "Good girl," he murmured and then slapped her ass hard when she instantly bent at the knees at those words. "I'm sorry, Sir. I can't help it." "I know you can't." That kind control—so unique—made her want to melt again, but the slave held rigidly still. There were two people watching her this time—an added pressure. This close to her Owner, she felt movement against his body and wondered if he was not going to allow her to undress him this night. She felt defeated, like she had disappointed him in some way, and fought her own weakness not to slouch down from insecurity... But he was not getting out of his clothes yet, just removing her special treat. He did enjoy the sight of the spasm in the stranger's shoulders; his clever smile telling her, 'Go ahead and prove you really want to be tied to that chair.' Arms around his mostly naked slave, he ran the flat of the straight razor down her spine. "Don't worry," he said, more for the wide-eyed woman in the chair than for the still slave relaxed because she knew just what that was, even without having seen it, "I won't use this to cut you." The fear in the eyes of their guest took on a different color. It was clear she wouldn't be hurt, didn't have to bolt for the door, but the realization slowly came over her that she has spent years missing out on these unusual pleasures. She watched this man, exactly as her girlfriend had glowingly described him, run the blade so gently against her girlfriend's vertebrae, under the shoulder blades that protruded as she'd put her arms around her Owner's neck. 'I should have been doing this all along...' the slave's "surprise" told the Master with her eyes. The possessed whore felt something pass between her Owner and her new lover and could only hope they did not just fall in love. He continued down his slave's back with the razor along the curve of her ass. The stranger indicated he nicked her girlfriend by the way she licked her lips. There was a table close by and her Master instructed her to go to it. "You know what to do, my pet." "Yes, Sir." Her voice in substate is almost a whisper. She bent over the table, touching her forehead to the surface, her ass raised by her four inch heels. Her Owner ran his fingers over her hair, stroked her back slowly to make her purr, moved his fingertips down to her buttocks and the thin line of blood she did not feel. He touched his fingers to his lips to taste. The slave was motionless except for shivering. Her Master took on a reflective aspect, losing himself in the patterns of the blade he made without a trace on her helpless body. She looked more vulnerable now that he knew she'd given him her complete submission; he was the only one she truly loved and he allowed himself to become lightly hypnotized by the path his blade took along her ribs, down to the tension of her bent waist. It was so quiet, as if no one even breathed. The only reality was the serpentine path of the razor as it found its way gracefully up to her neck where it came to rest. He held the blade still for a long moment against her throat and felt it conduct the currents of her surrender and his Dominance between them. She had been worried the presence of another could damage their intimacy and he had to show her that was not possible. "Tell me what you are." "I'm your slave, Sir." The pressure of the blade made her feel her words as she spoke. "And you love your Master," "Yes. I love you, Sir." She loved any invitation to get to say the words. With that, he put the object out of sight to break the spell. He drew back his hand and swung it forward in a practiced motion to connect with her flesh in a loud slap. The first few don't hurt until the skin is sensitized to a rose red, so her reaction was just to moan toward the sexual pleasure of a spanking. Her Master dipped his fingers to her dripping cunt to paint her with thick wetness, making a smacking sound to fill the room, fill the alert ears of their guest. His riding crop was within reach and he picked it up, reacquainting himself with its feel in his hand, its power, and the effect just the suggestive touch of its tip to her skin had on his slave. Instantly, she tensed and prepared for a more painful form of contact. Her Owner was still deciding where the mood would take them, however, and turned to consider the woman in the chair. "Struggle out of those ropes Possessed put you into." "Yes, Sir," the woman said in an apprehensive tone that revealed she hoped only for more pleasure and was unsure she wanted to leave the security of her light bondage and voyeuristic vantage point. He watched her try to wriggle her arms free from behind her back while trying to keep the straps of her dress from falling completely from her shoulders. It appeared she could not win both struggles, and he smiled at her discomfort in knowing her breasts would be revealed if she were to obey him. The rolling motions of her developed shoulders were very attractive. From the corner of his eye he saw his slave turn her head to peek. Not even looking, he startled her with one of his sharpest tones, "Head down!" Her head was instantly resting once again on the table. Their guest also bent her head to watch the smooth fabric of her dress finally slip below her nipples. When her hands were free she folded them in her lap, at first looking modest, and then, adjusting to her exposed state, she met his eyes. Her mouth fell open a little as he strode toward her; she was not expecting to be close to him at all. He knelt before her and untied the ropes that bound her ankles. He could have made her do that, but he wanted to tease her with near contact, undo the ropes without touching her skin. He wanted his face near her open legs to smell her. He breathed in the strong scent of her arousal and tried not to look too pleased. "Possessed, go get the blindfold." "Yes, Sir." And she did not hesitate to go get the eye mask from the bedroom. "Put it on your friend and lead her there," her Master said, pointing to a spot near the table, "and help her to kneel." His slave looked into her girlfriend's eyes before covering them, putting her in total darkness. She gave her lips a kiss, moist and quick, and led her as instructed, gently pushing her down so that the side of her face was almost against the edge of the table. Now there would be no more words for a while, he had decided; though he did enjoy arousing his slave with the sound of his voice, better to keep their guest in the dark. He walked to where his slave stood waiting for him and gave her a deep audible kiss. Their tongues could be heard intertwining above his slave's contented sighs. He gestured to her that he would like to be undressed, which she did more slowly and teasingly than usual, as fit the situation. There was a mischievous look in her eye as she removed her Master's clothes so slowly, daring him to speak. He is never angry that she sometimes actually plays when they are at play, but gave her a look to let her know she was asking for punishment. There was little for the blindfolded woman to hear until Possessed unbuckled his belt so near to her face. The sound of a zipper was familiar, as was the masculine scent of his naked cock. Then there was the shampoo and smoke smell of her girlfriend's hair, and the feel of her leg pressed against her knee. The muffled sound of the slave's moan made it even clearer her face was pressed into her Master's groin. The idea of her girlfriend sucking cock was something she had not considered, having grown used to her oral attentions on her feminine body. Now she was hearing it, experiencing it so close without knowing what it looked like. She wondered if she would get to see her friend's Master without his clothes, if he was just as she pictured him... She could hear the fellatio escalate, mostly from the slave's encouraging moans, some of them taking on a startled sound. She could hear her rapid breath through her nose and realized her girlfriend was being forcibly fucked in the mouth. She wanted to touch the slave's hair and face to confirm the picture forming in her mind, but knew she was not permitted; she was frustrated. She wondered if this was the extent to which she'd participate and was surprised to find she wanted more. She had been invited "mostly to watch" and now she was close enough to hear and smell, feel the warmth of their bodies. She couldn't see at all, though her mind was so full of vivid pictures she became uncertain whether she was completely blindfolded after all. She was also kneeling like a slave for the first time in her life. At first it had annoyed her, made her want to rebel—it had been stressed that there was one slave and that she would not belong to her girlfriend's Owner as property. Yet he had told her to kneel and she had obeyed quite naturally. Kneeling there, she realized she felt strangely honored and dignified and understood the side of her girlfriend that was known as Possessed. She was not possessed, however, but still felt very comfortable in this new attitude of submission. She wondered what to call it. If You Kiss Only Me She heard a reluctant groan of desire leave the slave's empty mouth. "See how our guest is doing," he said in a voice that was unsettling in its calm. He refused to betray his arousal in any way. He certainly didn't sound like he had just been face fucking her girlfriend. 'I'm a guest. Now I remember,' the woman thought to herself as the slave wrapped her soft arms around her. She felt her girlfriend's familiar kiss, but with the added charge of being watched and unable to see. She felt her own kissing become performative, something meant to be seen as much as enjoyment of her girlfriend's mouth on hers. The slave's kiss was the same as if they were alone and she wondered if perhaps they were. He was so quiet. She realized she was performing for a man she had never met before and wondered if it was obvious. A profound passivity washed over her and she felt almost detached from the slave girl's probing tongue. The slave, her girlfriend—they were two people in one. She wondered if she was, too. She was going into that delirium Possessed had tried to describe, anchored only by the aura of Dominance. She felt the slave being pulled upwards to standing and heard a whisper she could not make out, followed by a delighted female gasp. A tearing of plastic. "He says you can touch, if you want to." The slave's voice had lost a little of its whispery quality, half-way between Dom and sub at this point—an intermediary. "Touch... how?" Her voice had become muted and this message had her confused. There was a pause. "Us. Yourself. You are free to use your hands, but you have to stay kneeling. If you feel uncomfortable, you may go back to sit on the chair, but you should probably crawl—you're blindfolded." It was his voice and she realized she was excited to hear it, to be addressed by him. Her knees did ache, but she wanted to stay put. "Thank you, Sir." Then there was the light knock of the slave's elbows coming to rest on the table top. She smelled him closer, and latex. Her girl's patent leather shoe was smooth and cool against her knee and she knew she had opened her legs wider. Was it time yet to use her privilege of touch? She didn't know. She heard the wet noise of her girlfriend's labia being separated and a whorish moan that sounded like someone she had not yet met. Instinct to orient herself brought her hand to her girl's stocking-clad leg held straight and taught. As she stroked the familiar body the darkness of the eye mask vanished and she saw everything. A sharp gasp further illuminated the scene like a flash of lightening. Her girlfriend was being fucked by her Master from behind right before her covered eyes. If she leaned forward, she could kiss her hip, but she was only permitted to run her hand further up the straining leg. She felt the vibration of sexual energy under her fingertips, could feel the slave receiving firm thrusts; she was being entered fast and moaned each time he withdrew from her body more slowly. Her girlfriend began to hiss and shriek and she wondered if her master was biting her... She recalled the words: "You can touch... Us." She boldly reached for him, to feel just where he was, and it was confirmed he was bent at the hips, over his slave. He must have been biting her neck. He did not object to her touching him. He didn't even react to her exploration while he fucked her girl senseless. She got a shock when she withdrew her hand—her wrist was caught in an unknown grip. Her arm melted into almost dead weight as he replaced her hand to his side. Mindlessly, she stroked his strong back, opposite against his motion. The slave looked over her shoulder and smiled to herself. Her biggest reservation about this encounter had been the jealousy she feared she would feel. Instead, she felt a kind of pride in the pleasure her girlfriend took in the feel of her Owner's body. 'He does have such beautiful skin,' she thought to herself and regarded her girlfriend's petting hands with understanding. At that moment, her Master pulled her spine into an arch by her hair, whispering private filthy endearments into her ear lest she lose focus. She went weak and he held her, an arm tight across her breasts. "Cum for me now." It was an order both women could hear, the one kneeling held her breath as her stroking hands stilled on the body standing upright, pinning her girlfriend on his cock. That scream broken into pieces by sobs, and then the sound of the slave hitting the table hard as she collapsed. "Good girl." Their guest continued to rest her hands where they lay on him: One on his hip bone between the lovers, the other light on the curve of his ass. She moved with him as he left the depths of the slave girl, not seeing how she had rolled onto her back, sweaty shoulder blades flattening onto the cool surface, arms falling open. Possessed was like a pinned specimen, a spike of post-orgasmic emotion immobilizing her at the heart. She stared upwards, seeing less clearly than the one blindfolded at her feet: It was just the geometric patterns hanging in the air. Her master ran his fingertips down her belly. "You know I would usually let you rest, but you should attend to your girlfriend now." "Yes, Sir." She rubbed her smeared eyes and moved to stand. He had to help her up. "She's been kneeling for quite a while. Take her to our bed where she can relax." The slave half-fell to kneeling and embraced her girlfriend. She moved to lift the eye mask while looking for her Owner's approval. Seeing his assent, she freed the woman's vision. The room had been lit up bright in her mind's eye. She was perplexed her eyes had to search through the dimness, not adjust to bright light. She took in the blurry white outline of the slave who appeared eerie and new as she moved to take a kiss. Her lips blindly accepted the slave's insistent lust, but her heart raced... What now? Who were these people and where was the soft and meek girl she thought she knew, the one she thought was hers? She's gone out of focus, a blur of accidental snapshots. The guest swayed on her knees, more overwhelmed and fearful than aroused. 'There is nothing to fear,' but telling herself this only made more acute the uneasiness she couldn't explain. "You're safe, you're free, you're alright. Shhh. It's alright. I'll take care of you. You're OK. Everything's alright." It was her girl, the slave, speaking assurances. It was the slave who playfully knocked her over, got on top of her to kiss her back to life. This was familiar. The weak little form pretending she's strong, playing at holding the woman down, wanted to test her strength, her will. The child testing for a reaction. Possessed licked a stripe of saliva up the woman's face as it regained its color, as her exposed eyes glittered so pretty. The woman smiled: Her girl did look a mess and reeked of sex as she straddled her. With one flex of a leg, the slave was thrown hard to the floor with a thud where she lay giggling like a lunatic. The guest remembered the words spoken months before this moment, "It's fun. But it's serious fun." The slave caught her breath and her girl helped her to sit up. They kissed, tongues not caring to meet each other inside of mouths. Artful, external licking kisses. An occasional playful pinch or pulled punch. "It's time for bed." They knew it was meant for both of them and crawled side by side, giggling and nuzzling, to the bedroom. He stood aside to let his charges enter the darker room. The slave stopped to clutch at her Master's legs, looking up for instruction. He took a firm grip on her hair, as he'd told her he would when she served her girlfriend for his pleasure. Their guest groaned in what sounded like a beginning orgasm just to lie down and stretch her aching legs. Kneeling was beautiful... for a while. Bed was, too, by now. Her Master and his kneeling slave remained at the foot of their bed considering the supine form of this woman who had trusted her, then him, then this. Without letting go of his slave's hair, he climbed onto the bed to sit next to the stranger and position his slave between her girlfriend's legs. "Show us how obedient you are to your Owner," he said, guiding his slave's lips to their guest's neglected cunt. The woman seemed so passive and shy it was as though she had fallen asleep, but came fully to life when he opened her thighs wider. She made her first expression of pure sexual need that went beyond curiosity or affection in a rather pitiable groan. She had not let on exactly how much she ached for release. The slave licked her girlfriend as she'd done other times, but had never experienced her this aroused; she felt as though she could drink the juices pouring out of her. Her Master saw her face quickly soaked and the sight of this female pleasure made him harder. The woman's moans came more regularly as the slave devoted herself to her clit, much larger under her tongue than she remembered. As she licked and sucked, the moaning sounded increasingly more like frustration than pleasure. This was not a show of obedience if she could not make their guest cum as her Master instructed. She used her tongue more passionately, but got more desperate writhing and "Fuck me!" as a response. The slave slipped two fingers into her cunt to fuck her in the way she loved for her Master to do to her, first gently curling them and then increasing the brutality. The slave was not used to handling anyone this roughly, but her girlfriend seemed to beg for it with her body and voice that asked "Please" over and over. Possessed look at her Master with a smile. It was obvious to both of them she was asking for him, whether she meant to or not. His slave nodded. "If you kiss only me, then I think I'll be alright," she said. He did move to kiss her, her friend still struggling to get the small fingers deeper inside her. With one hand she responded to the woman's frantic hips. The other lovingly stroked her Master's face and chest, pulled him to where she had just knelt. "Think carefully for a second," he said gently into her ear. "I want you to, please, Sir. I want to kiss you the whole time." The woman had been lying on her back, her forearm flung over her eyes. When she felt herself abandoned in her need she looked up to see him between her splayed legs. "I want to see my Master fuck you like a whore. Would you like that?" "Yes. God, please." "Then ask me very nicely and I might indulge you." He spoke up. Naturally. "Please." "What?" He asked, feigning disbelief. "Please, fuck me." She was panting adorably. "You have to ask properly," the slave whispered, though their desire was obvious and she knew he wouldn't be so cruel as to really refuse her. "Please. I want you, Sir." "Good—" He'd almost said "Good girl," but knew that could break his slave's heart. It made her smile to hear her Master catch himself. She faced him on her hands and knees and slipped her tongue in his mouth as he entered her girl's greedy cunt. She stroked the long leg thrown over his shoulder, but her lips did not leave her Master, straying only from his mouth to let him breathe as he let lust take him over. Whenever their guest cried out in pleasure, he was moved to kiss his slave. He wondered if she could cum for him if he asked her to. She hadn't been trained in that way, but the suggestion might help send her past the point where she had hovered for this long. Maybe she had hoped to submit in some way and was waiting. He felt she would submit to him; even if not profoundly, at that moment she was his and he felt inspired. "Cum for me now!" His order was followed by a dazzling scream that came from his slave—the woman had blindly dug her nails into her ribs as she came violently. She herself was almost silent, but it was written all over her face that she was in ecstasy. Possessed watched her with fascination as she lay shuddering even after her Owner withdrew his cock. She realized how naïve she'd been to think her girlfriend's interest in experiencing submission was as casual as she'd made it seem, that she only wanted to watch. 'We all must have known that this would happen,' she thought to herself. The only obstacle had been her own sensitivity. Always the adventuring fool, that one figure in a tarot deck, dancing on the cliff's edge. She can herald it, just not see it coming. "Now I think my slave should serve her Master." The slave was filled with submissive pride and affection for him that he would save his sperm for her. His hard on was still dripping with her friend when she devoured him shamelessly. 'He should not wait another moment,' she thought and decided to show her respect for him by bringing him to orgasm as quickly as possible. Whether it was respect for him or that she had something to prove neither of them were sure, but it was in a spirit of pure devotion that she bowed low to him as he knelt on their bed. She longed for that moment his cock would pulsate in her throat just before the pleasure coursed all through his body and poured into her belly. He looked down at her as she moved her head back and forth only slightly, unwilling to relinquish any of him, even to make him cum. 'Such insatiable greed,' he thought with admiration, though he did take a handful of her hair to control her service. Each time he drew her head back for the sensation of her lips along his shaft, she sucked more fiercely, as if she was afraid he would deny her. When he pulled her back to his cockhead she held on delicately with her teeth. It was this and the plea in her innocent eyes as she looked up that triggered the climax he finally allowed. Her Master held her head in place as he fed his slave. She sucked contentedly and swirled her tongue over the silky flesh so that when he left her lips he was entirely clean. As her Master drew her up to hold her against him, allowed her to lap the sweat from his neck, he looked over his slave's small body to see the woman sleeping peacefully. He was relieved—it was not in his nature to fuck someone and then ignore her, but his attention was divided, after all. Possessed was fragile, but she had surprised him this evening. Of course the woman could not sleep in a bed where her lovers were still at their depraved play. She couldn't sleep on the night she learned she's a sub like her girlfriend. She was exhausted, though, and glad to shut her eyes to be alone with her thoughts, maybe even to spy on them a little, get a truly voyeuristic view of what they are like when no one's watching. 'BDSM people are so self-conscious, in a way, someone is always watching, even if it's just a different version of themselves,' she thought, 'the way even blindfolded I could see so clear it fucked with my mind.' When the Master and slave went to shower, she did drift off. She woke up the following afternoon to find herself alone in an empty bed. She rose to get up and found herself sore all over. Every muscle in her fit body ached for some mysterious reason; none of the evening's activities accounted for that so she guessed she had been much more tense than she'd felt. She looked around for something to put on, as her dress was in the other room and finding only a short person's clothes, decided on a blanket. She looked in the mirror: On her, it was actually elegant. She found her girlfriend alone in the living room, a book open on her lap, but she was lost in thought. Not so much, however, that she missed her lover scanning the room rather urgently for more than her crumpled dress. It annoyed her, somewhat, though she smiled a greeting. "He had to leave and said it was better not to wake you." This was deeply embarrassing—how the slave had seen her slight her and search for someone else. She wasn't sure what to say. She felt she had something to be sorry for and didn't know what. For a moment she wondered if they'd drugged her. "It has that effect on people." Her girlfriend spoke to her confusion in a way that was, again, not the person she knew. "I know, you miss him," she continued, hearing herself take on a bit of his inflection. Things were getting weird again and he wasn't around to make it make sense. "Why would I miss him? I don't know him! Sorry if you're upset I slept with your boyfriend..." "This doesn't make you straighter than you want to be. He's Dominant. I'm not." That's what it was. She got along with the slave because of a physical attraction and that they had something very powerful in common. It had never been quite enough, though, and she had to be sure it wasn't only that he was a man that last night she had waited for him to be the one to satisfy her. Why did she feel this from the moment she saw him? Was it something her girlfriend had told her about him? Did she resent her for some reason? "It's because he's Dominant." Possessed tried not to sound too condescending as she repeated it. Really, she enjoyed helping to illuminate things, though she had her own confused angst to confront. "Look. He left you a present, too." She sighed and removed her reading glasses. The slave was still naked as she rose to go to her girlfriend, who looked beautifully statuesque in more ways than one. "He said give this to you to remember last night. Be careful—it's very sharp."