Worth the Wait [erotic, bdsm]

submessive sly kneeling

I wait.

Waiting has always been one of the hardest things for me to do. Anyone who knows me knows how very impatient I am. I squirm, I writhe, I wiggle…and I do it until I’m forced to stop.

You know this better, perhaps, than anyone alive. It’s why you like to keep me waiting so often.

On this particular night, I’m more uncomfortable than usual. I’ve assumed the position you so lovingly taught me: kneeling on the hardwood floor, long legs tucked beneath me, spine straight, gaze lowered. I knew from personal experience just how severe the consequences could be if I forgot my posture, so I don’t dare falter.

And I wait.

The urge to fidget is nigh unbearable. To twist my fingers, to tap them, to chew on my bottom lip…but I know better. I remain completely still for what seems like an eternity – until you finally from the bedroom and advance towards me.

I’m not to look at you. The heavy weight of your footfall and your long shadow are more than enough to alert me to your presence. By now, I crave your touch so badly I’m all but trembling. Has it really only been since this morning? It feels so much longer…

“You look lovely, kitten.” Your praise sends a shiver of pleasure through me. “It suits you.”

It being the almost nonexistent straps of gray lace that you gifted me this morning. After you gave me a thorough waking up and reminded me, as you always do, exactly to whom I belong, you presented me with the delicately wrapped box, and I blushed at how little of the lingerie there actually was.

My breasts hang, full, heavy, and unsupported, against my chest, my nipples pebbled by your very presence. The lacy garment I wear criss-crosses beneath them, over the expanse of my belly and past my hips, where a single strap pulls taut through the damp flesh between my legs. If I was wet before you entered the room, now I’m fairly dripping. “Do you enjoy kneeling here, waiting for me?”

“Yes, sir.” As if there could be any other answer. If I’m good, I know you’ll reward me – and I want to be rewarded.

“Such a patient little kitten. Much better than last week.” The words alone are enough to make my thighs and bottom ache in the memory of the flogging you gave me. I can do better. I will do better. “Aren’t you going to greet me properly?”

I rush to comply. “Good evening, Sir. I’ve missed you. How was your day?”

It’s a greeting you’ve taught me, but that doesn’t make it any less sincere.

“I was thinking about you all day.” I tug my lower lip between my teeth at your reply. “You were very distracting.” Your hand curls around the lower portion of my face, tugging my chin upward even as your thumb slides firmly between my lips. I suck without hesitation, eager and steady, relishing the taste of your finger as it explores my mouth. “Apologize to me.”

“I’m sorry, Sir.” My words are mumbled around the finger pressing against my tongue.

“No…I don’t think you are.” You chuckle lowly, amused at my eagerness. “You secretly like the idea of disrupting my concentration, don’t you?”

I shake my head – a lie – and you know. You always know.

Your grip on my chin tightens until it borders on pain. “Tell the truth, kitten.”

Slowly, I nod. Of course I relish the idea of you struggling to concentrate in your office on my account. The thought of your hard cock pushing against your fly when you’re supposed to be checking off your to-do list is enough to make my mouth water. It’s a selfish thought – an indulgent one – and I can’t truly be sorry for it.

“What a naughty girl. Lying to your master.” When your thumb slips from my mouth I barely stifle a whine of displeasure. “Get up.”

I can’t scramble to my feet fast enough, but my legs don’t respond as quickly as I like – numb from being folded beneath me for so long.

Soon, however, you’ll make me forget the numbness. You’ll make me forget everything but the pain in pleasure that comes from every delicious stroke of the strap singing against my behind.

And that is certainly worth the wait.

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