Stars and Stripes

It had been a while since my last call to service and my Master’s frequent travels back to the US had allowed me some room for rest, but in the text exchanges that kept us connected I could feel that his appetite was growing.

A selection of photos came trickling through my phone one evening revealing a variety of impact play instruments; studded paddles, some indistinguishable metal implements and taking centre stage, a cane that had become fleetingly ‘lost’ some months before. He seemed particularly pleased with the reunion.

Receipt of the images caused the usual involuntary responses within me and I found myself sitting at a formal evening event in London with my panties gradually soaking through. An inconsiderate act of his with the time difference, but almost certainly intentional.

I excused myself from the table and finding a conveniently plush bathroom cubicle slipped a hand between my legs and imagined him. My mind instantly spinning a fantasy of being bound and kneeling beneath his office desk.

I wait patiently to serve, resting my head in his lap as he works and after some time he reaches down wordlessly and carefully lifts my chin in line with his hips. I watch him now at tongue’s reach as he unzips his pants, torturously languid with each movement. He is seemingly unmoved by my participation in this act and acknowledges me in the same way that one might keep a bottle of lube at reaching distance should it be required.

I watch and go on watching as he masturbates, his strokes gradually shortening upwards towards the tip of his thick cock. Silently, his other hand reaches down and wraps my ponytail in his fist, scooping my face to the base of his balls. His tugging quickens and I listen as his breathing changes rhythm, completely still, my muscles now dull with the pain of kneeling while his cock fattens and readies for orgasm. I widen my lips and patiently wait for him to drip down onto my eager mouth. His body stiffens for a few seconds before slumping gently into the backrest of his office chair. He loosens the grip from my head and I clean his creamy cock like a good little kitten.

My delicious thoughts were interrupted by some girls chatting about their disappointing boyfriends in the cubicle next door.

Panties now unsalvageable with my own wetness I tossed them in the bin and chose to leave the party early.

The winter air outside was a welcome refreshment and as I stood taking it in, still a little hazy in thought I felt a hand rest on my shoulder.

‘You’re not leaving are you?’

I turned towards the voice and recognised another of the guests at our table. I had noticed his furtive glances earlier on in the evening but hadn’t felt any particular desire to enact upon them. It wasn’t from a lack of physical attraction, just that he seemed more apposite to bathroom discussions than where my tastes would take us. From a guess, I would imagine that he was in his twenties, handsome, in a sort of predictable way with soft brown eyes and curated stubble. The sort of boy I would’ve mindlessly chosen on a night out when I too, was in my twenties.

I turned to face him.

‘I was, yes, not much reason to stay.’

He started shuffling with his pockets and I went back to watching traffic in hope of a cab appearing.

‘Here’s a reason’ he said, brandishing a small pipette. ‘Do you trust me?’

It was a trite and childish question but somehow even nearing the age of 40 my appetite for risk didn’t seem to have waned.

‘Its a very small amount of THC, you’ll be fine. Just chilled.’

Chilled sounded OK I supposed. I looked down at my watch; 11.15pm. Perhaps I would make it into the early hours and call it a night.

I self dosed the contents of the pipette under my tongue and off we walked in the direction of a ‘good time’.

The warmth of an overcrowded bar brang some welcome relief from the biting cold London air.

I looked across at the swirls of colour coming from the dance floor while his hand began wandering up and down my open back with an insistent rhythm.

I could feel myself swallowed by a deep relaxation when a band struck up in the corner of the venue. From where I was standing there was a clear view of the bass guitarist and as his fingers moved between the strings the vibrancy of sound intensified. The crowd start swaying in synchronicity and I could feel myself sliding from relaxed to anxiously woozy as the hands now started to run down to the curve of my ass.

I looked up at him and noticed him staring intently. ‘Feeling a little tired?’ He asked, one hand moving between my legs without consent as he leant me into him.

I couldn’t form an intelligible answer to his question and instead felt my weary head now resting against his shoulder.

He slid his arm around my waist and set off in the direction of the street entrance. As soon as the cold air hit my face my anxiety peaked and suddenly I felt certain I needed to extricate myself and quickly.

I turned to him, mustering all of the energy I could find and made an excuse to leave.

He listened and smiled. ‘Why don’t you just relax Flick and come back to mine for tea?’

I thanked him for a nice evening and started towards the tube entrance, but from peripheral vision I could see that he was still a shoulder’s turn from my pace.

‘If you’re leaving then let me take you home okay?’ he said.

This time I was more insistent. ‘I’m totally fine, thank you.’ But the truth was, I wasn’t fine at all.

I doubled back in the direction of an underpass and managed to put some distance between us in the throngs of tourists. I cleared the steps and turned into the mouth of the tunnel.

In the near distance I could hear the voices of people passing by, they seemed to be moving so quickly and suddenly the task of getting through the underpass using my fatigued legs felt impossible. An irrepressible desire to lie down and sleep came over me.

Slumping against the tiles I slid onto the gum speckled floor and for the first time ever, chose to break protocol and text Him.

‘Hello Sir. I dont think i’m ok. Went out, met someone, took something.’

His reply was almost immediate. ‘Voice notes may be easier depending on what you took. Do you know what you took? Are you at their house? Can you get back to yours?’

I replied after 5 minutes of trying to form the right sequence of words on a screen; ‘I thought it was TCH, but may not have been’

‘Do you need me to get you a car? You can call me. I’m leaving my phone on loud’

I managed to get up again and walk a bit more. If I could just get myself onto a train I was pretty sure I could safely ride out both trips.

Approaching the platform archway I could hear a tube train punch through a tunnel ahead and a few minutes later I heaped myself into a seat and rested my head against the adjacent perspex screen.

It felt like a whole night had passed by the time I reached my front door.

The latch closed behind me and I sent him another message.

‘Thank you for staying with me. I just got in.’

I could see him typing… ‘I’m glad you are home. These things happen to the best of us which, I count you amongst’.

Now feeling safe and still woozy my headspace had significantly shifted. I hesitated for a short minute and then wrote back;

‘So you do like me…’

I knew it was crossing a line but I couldn’t help myself.

‘Yes Pet. It is true….. Often inconvenient, but true.’

My head hit the pillow, phone still in hand and surfeit with dopamine I fell into the swirls of deep sleep.

Light flooding through the unclosed shutters I woke up the next day rolling in shame.

‘Im sorry about last night Sir, it wasn’t my finest hour.’

I heard nothing from him until I was sat at my desk later that morning.

His response was a time and address. He would be bringing the cane. I stared at the message and winced.

Tucked away at the top of an old Georgian house, a long winding wooden staircase took me up to room G. An attic space converted into a large bedroom with ornate mirrors conveniently covering angles of the spacious bed and facing the window, a large leather desk occupying an unlit corner.

It was late in the evening and I was early for our appointment. To pass the time I decided to fill a bath and calm my thoughts, but my mind was frantic with anticipation.

I patted my flushed skin dry and set about rolling the body stocking I had chosen up my thighs as my phone chimed in with an abrupt interruption.

‘How long will you need?’ He had arrived.

My heart started racing with my reply.

’10 minutes please, Sir.’

At exactly 10pm I answered the door barefooted and still a little damp. As always when I first see him, I found myself momentarily dumbstruck by his unique beauty. The framing of his dark moustache and its contrast to the uniformity of his perfectly white teeth beneath. The breadth of his frame and my smallness against it, the intonation of his smooth American voice and the perfect calm in which he commands me.

‘Place your hands down on the desk behind you, Pet.’

I turned away from him to face the wall as he nudged my legs apart with his foot before fastening them into a spreader bar. A rustling in my peripheral hearing and he looped his hands over my head and placed a pink rubber ball gag in front of my lips.

‘Open your mouth.’

I widened dutifully, but not wide enough. The rubber ball rolling along my front teeth before gently forcing my jaw open.

He steps back to take stock of the scene.

‘Arch your back so I can see you.’

I dip my hips and reset my stance while he arranges his toys in front of my gagged and spread body. He finishes with a small toy hippo which he places to the left of my planted hand. It looks up at me smugly.

‘We are going to play a little question and answer game, Pet.’

I squirm against the bar and he gently pushes the small of my spine back into an extended arch.

‘Here are the rules; I’m going to give you twelve hard strokes of this cane in succession. Before each stroke I will ask you a question to which you are to respond with ‘Yes Sir’. At any time you can knock the hippo off the desk with your hand and all play will stop immediately. Do you understand Pet?’