Valentine’s day 14 – Sara’s voice

I would have told Pel it was too soon had he bothered to ask me. I don’t disapprove and we had discussed it but I didn’t think he would be this rash. But of course he would.

I don’t know why I thought this time it’d be different. He takes awhile to work himself up to something but once he does, he commits to it fully. And there was never a stupidly romantic gesture that he could ever pass up.

Collared and married on the same day makes for a great story but Tara had to be overwhelmed. After we assured her that we both wanted this, she settled down. However, her nature is skittish as a colt.

Pel doesn’t realize that she is a true submissive. I’m sub behind the bedroom door. I am a proud pain slut but our 24/7 is all scene oriented. Tara needs to please her master and surprises throw her off. She’s thinking, what did she miss, what mistake did I make.

Pel knows about her abuse. He knows how to help her through that. How to treat her but he’s never had a true 24/7 Submissive. He’s lucky I’m here to help him. Cause he’d be at a loss. She’s sitting on his lap listening to him tell her a story. I imagine it’s something lascivious. And I hear the soft tinkle of her giggle.

I look over and see Pel looking at me. Knowingly, like he’s reading a book of my thoughts. He smiles and say “It’ll be OK, my brightest day.”

How does he fucking do that!
I reply, “Yes, my darkest night.” As protocol demands. Damn the man, he’s infuriating.
And he’s mine, mine, mine, I think as the grin breaks across my face.

The speaker is someone new. Tall and swarthy, kinda smarmy. Dark and cute but slimy. I don’t think he belongs here. We are protocol oriented and safety conscious.

Practically speaking, I think Pel uses this group to Vet potential masters before releasing them out into the wild. Tara’s former master is not abnormal. This lifestyle draws predators like flies to watermelon. I don’t think Pel appreciates their “interference” as he calls it.

He’s so feudal minded. He considers his territory to be inviolate and anyone that threatens that he removes. If I didn’t know that he took protecting us so seriously, that he did it from a place of love and trust, I’d think him a specialized serial killer. Looking for prey. But the community IS better for it. In a real way, our community needs policing as much as any society.

Valentine’s day 13-Tara’s voice

Holding my hand to my mouth, I look down at my Master, wide eyed. My sight goes all blurry as tears begin to full and I blink.

“Sir,” I gasp, “I…I d…”
I don’t think I can. How am I deserving of this. He bends his desires to my benefit instead of bending me to his. I don’t understand how he would to do that for the rest of our lives. I can see the pain and disappointment in his eyes as the moment drags on.

“Sir, Are you…are you sure?” I ask, knowing that I am allowed this one clarification by his rules.

He smiles, sadly.

Sometimes his sadness looks like it could drown the world. I’d do anything to keep that expression off his face.

“Yes, my love. I’m sure,” he replies, softly almost too low to hear.

“Yes,” I declare voice still with a conviction I don’t feel. I’m not sure. I don’t know. But I know I don’t want to lose him.

My master stands, placing the engagement ring on my finger. It fits perfectly.
I follow his arm up to his eyes and still see that quiet sadness. He gestures to Peter.

“I think we’ll have a somewhat longer engagement than anticipated,” he says through a lopsided grin.

Even now he is taking care of me. Making positive that I am all the way in. That I am taken care of. He’s not selfless. But I know, he’d sacrifice nearly anything for those he loves.

It breaks my heart to not be able to give him what he needs right now. I just can’t say that I’m worth what he’s offering. Though he’d disagree. I wish I could be as sure of it.

He slips his arm in mine and walks us back our seats. Sara coos over the ring and presses her sweet lips to mine. The soft pleasure of peach wine tingling against my tongue. Tasting…tasting my wife to be.

It bursts in my mind what he said. Marry us. Marry both Sara and Pel. Pel is so generous, I could anticipate he would offer something so romantic at the collaring ceremony. But Sara? She’s so down to earth.

I open my eyes from the kiss and see Sara looking at me. Amusement twinkling in her smile.

Sara says, “Of course you are worth us. You are perfect.” I feel Sara’s hand slip under my dress and Pel’s lips kiss along my spine.

“Perfect,” mutters Pel.

I moan and try to press back into Pel’s caress while straining to arch into Sara’s hand.

Valentine’s day post 

I apologize, belatedly, about not posting the 12 installment of the Valentine’s day story. Real life put me in a headspace where writing that particular story was not possible. At least not possible and to do it correctly. But tomorrow at 7AM the 12th installment of Valentine’s day will post. If it’s any consolation, it’s three times longer than a normal installment. I hope you enjoy it and if you haven’t been reading it and want to, today is a perfect day to catch up.

Valentine’s day 10

It’s these moments when we are just people in love that are the most important to me. All of the sexual gymnastics doesn’t compare to the simple pleasure of hearing my girls talk over my choices for them. Of course, helping Tara to heal after the ordeals she endured is important. And getting Sara to stop apologizing has been a long road. I suppose it’s the kind of dominant I am. There are all kinds and flavors. I need to help my girls feel safe and give them a safe place to grow. And we’re all very sexually adventurous people so this lifestyle with its infinite possibilities works well. But enough.

Sara stalks into the living room and stands waiting for inspection. The clacking of heels against tile end, somehow leaving the space empty.

Tara walks, shyly to stand next to Sara. She holds her right arm behind her back with her left. And she is hunched. I’m not sure where she was taught to crunch down and be less of a target but seeing it does not make me happy.

“Tara,” I say, “Stand up straight. Arms at your sides.”

Tara flinches at the reminder. I always allow for one with her. Immediate punishment for disobedience is not productive.

Tara straightens up and holds herself more loosely, though her tension is evident.

I can’t tell what choices they’ve made.

“Arms out, legs spread, be ready for a pat down.”

Starting with Sara, I run my hands over her. Businesslike, making sure her weapons are in place. We have a rule that no one leaves the house unarmed.

Stopping in front of her, I lean over and growl in her ear, “No underwear? Interesting choice.”

Her slow wicked smile tells me exactly where her heads at.

Tara’s arm are trembling trying to hold them up while I thoroughly fondle…I mean inspect, my lovely wife. When Sara is leaning into me, trying to get more than my hands attention, I kiss her noise and pull away.

I look over Tara and see that there is really no good place for her blades. Her arms are trembling and she is sweating from holding her arms out for the last few minutes.
I circle behind her running my hands over her. Repeating the thorough search for underwear and weapons.

My hands up under her dress, I pull it up to reveal the softness of her. A matched set then. Nude all around. Her dress rises as I glide my hands up over her soft breasts. She shivers. From the draft? The position?
I plant soft kisses up her neck, her hair upswept and held in place by…clever.
I smile. She’s worked handled needles into her hair. Nice!

“You can put your arms down.”

I drop her dress down and step back. The peach fabric settles against her curves. Eating away at my control. The sensuality of the fabric pulled sliding over her by gravity.

Valentine’s day 5

Her hand rests on the small of my back. I feel the warmth radiating from her and hear the soft tinkling of bells. I look away from the omelet on the stove and take in the curvature of Sara. Mountains and valleys adorned with steel clothespins from which hang little one ounce weights in the form of silver bells. They adorn her tits and pussy, and any place skin could be pinched up to accommodate. She is no stick my Sara. There are 20 bells, all tinkling away in A minor. Each small shift sounds a cascade.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see Tara crawl out of the bedroom. She is wearing her foxtail plug and fox ears. And nothing else. My pet. She crawls, her hips swaying, tail wagging. Her full eyes begging, please.

I flip the omelet and take the burner down to low. Tara rubs her body against my leg, like a cat begging for attention. I pull aside the apron and present my aching throbbing cock. Denial and delay is difficult for all of us.

Tara’s eyes and mouth pout. Eager, she runs her cheek against my thigh. Running her nose and face against me, begging for permission. The feel of her against me is too much and the smallest pearl of precum escapes my control.

My voice deep with need, “You may.” I give permission to us both.

Her wet tongue trails a line up the skin of my balls, up the vein under my cock. Her mouth closes over me. The wet warmth, her tongue working around my head.

The bells crash and I feel a warm intruder in my anus. The tongue of Sara flicking in and out, its too much and I explode down Tara’s throat. Hot seed pumping down her throat. Drinking her breakfast. I wilt but her mouth keeps sucking, licking, waking my erection to its full glory.

“Sara, serve the omelet.” I order.
Her tongue withdraws and I take a deep breath, control reasserting itself.

I shuffle over to the center island. Tara moving backwards, her mouth never leaving my cock.

Perfectly portioned on 2 plates, the bell pepper, cheddar omelet and carafe of coffee sits. Small mugs and silverware set perfectly.

“eat” I command. Sara tucks into her omelet and Tara sucks harder, pressing and swirling her tongue. Both my girls, enjoying their breakfast.

Valentine’s day 4

I spend seconds breathing in the warmth of my Morrigan, my Sara. The feel of her legs wrapped around my waist, the heat of her pulsing into me, tempting me.

I close my eyes and take a breath, then another, deep, feeling the muscles strain, pulling more air until the smell of her saturates me.

Holding the breath for three heartbeats then I push it out. Not breathing. One heartbeat, two, three, four heartbeats, inhale.

I reach into one of the toy drawers we have scattered throughout the house. This one prepped with something special.

I place a slotted metal tray next to us. I watch as her eyes light with anticipation and fear.

Arranged on the tray in slotted spots, stainless steel clothes pins. The tension coiled right to the point where it seems like you would go Numb, but you never quite get there.

I mound her left tit in my hand. The feel of her body against mine sending notes like a plucked violin string through me. My lip brush against her nipple and I suck her tit into my open mouth, pulling it in. I hold her flesh in place with my teeth.

Slowly, I bite down. Building pressure until I can sense the flesh will part if I press further. I release and pull back. The red indentations of my teeth circle her left tit. Marking her as mine, mine, mine.

Her eyes are a bit glazed as she basks in the pain. My glorious pain slut. I pick a clothespin and mound her right breast. I pinch skin up and place the pin gently over enough flesh so that when I remove it, she won’t tear. She gasps from the cold and her legs clench against me. She shudders out her first orgasm. Brought completely from pain. It won’t be the last.