Valentine’s day 22

You know, what seems simple as you drift off to sleep is never quite the same as dreams fade. I know I had a great idea that put me at my ease but now I just can’t recall it.

My eyes drift across the softly snoring form of my Sara. I could have Tara wield the whip, but no she’s not ready for that. Leashes and walkies? No, Sara dislikes humiliation and she’s done nothing to deserve a punishment. Simple may be best.

I slip out of bed and pad to the closet. Simple slacks and a buttondown worn untucked. The grey slacks and cream shirt with the herringbone buttons. Clothing is a form of armor but in this case merely a canvas for later ventures.

I walk the five feet back to the bedroom and see Sara watching me. My smile pours out; matched by her grin until, like a candle, it’s snuffed out. I school my face to impassivity. A cool mask belied by wicked eyes.

“First position,” I purr.

Languid, almost boneless, Sara falls graceful as a cat to her knees. She leans back. Sitting on her legs folded underneath, shoulders thrown back, eyes cast down.

“Wait here, in position, until I return.”

“Yes Sir,” her voice a deep pool of acceptance.

I walk to Tara and gently shake her awake. Her eyes slowly open, telling me that her sleep is feigned. Never in the time I’ve known her has she ever woken so easily to a interrupted sleep.

“Put on your collar, my little fox. Let us go for a walk in the garden.”

Walking in the garden is something we do when dear Tara is feeling a bit more animal than human.

Proudly, Tara places her new collar around her neck, pulling the clasp closed but not tightly. I reach down and cinch it down. Close enough to not chafe but not so tight so as to choke. Tara reaches into my pants for her lead and pulling the soft leather leash snaps it into place. Shyly looking at me, she places the lead into my hand. I beam at my dear pet. I know she’s seen Sara do this but I didn’t expect her to be so equally bold.

I lead her to the black oak toy chest and pull the chrome butt plug with fox tail from its position. She shifts and smiles up at me, skipping my heart a beat. With thoroughness, her eyes a heady weight on my motions, I slather the plug in velvety lube.

“Present, please,” my voice soft but full of command and desire.

Tara turns and leans against the hardwood floor, cheek pressed flush, head turned, presenting the soft pink pucker for her present.

I run my fingers around, exploring the edges. Soft, pleasant loam drifting from her. I work the remaining lube over her. Into her, probing with wet fingers, the slight hitch in her breathing my reward. I press the point of the bulb in. Meeting with resistance then relaxation sucks it in as I press, inexorably, in.

And voila, my foxy girl has her tail. And a gentleman has his pet.

Valentine’s day 6

There is a desire in me. To do away with the niceties and pleasant, to take and take, and take. To demand when I am spent and they are bruised, bloody and begging that they act in accordance to my will.

I’ve spilled myself down the throat of my pet. Into her sweet snatch. Wearing my marks. The bites, the scratches. Soon we’ll add cane stripes or whip lines. But for now, there are other entertainments.

“Tara. Lay on your back, spine along the horse bench.”

Tara pulls her mouth off my flaccid cock, a thin line of semen mixed drool stretching from it to her pouty lips. She looks me in the eyes and slurps the mixture into her greedy mouth. The soft expanse of throat bobbing as she swallows.

Her lithe legs lift her up, stalking and taunting me. She thinks she’s safe. I rush her. Picking her up and depositing her gently but firmly onto the dark leather. Pushing her face down into the bench.

“Taunting me has consequences, pet. ”

I push my fingers into her pussy, fear drenching the soft leather of the bench. Her breath comes fast and panting, my fingers open like a blossom, pushing and teasing against the soft pink.

“Sara, get me the 6 by 3 inch strap on.”

The soft tinkling of bells marks Sara’s passage. I scrape my fingers in, forming a fist inside Tara. My arm punching in and out as she whimpers, struggling not to cry out. Quivering and jerking with each shove.

Sara comes, her bells playing a melody of desire. She straps the 6 inch long, 3 inch wide latex cock around my waist.

One must be prepared, for the flesh is weak but the mind is willing.

I pull my fist out with a pop. Using the river of fragrant delight that coats my hand, I lube the cock. Tara looks back and seeing the wide dildo, whimpers. Her legs dangle off the horse, hands wrapped around the wood worn smooth by hands doing as she does now.

“Dear, please strap her down.”

Sara grabs the handful of precut leather straps out of a nearby drawer. The leather ties down Tara’s wrists. Only allowing her to hold the legs of the bench or dangle.

Her ankles are tied out. Held wide by the curvature of the bench.

I press the head of the rigid latex, wet with the Tara’s offering, between the soft steel of her ass. Pressing into her rose bud pucker. Her breathing gasping out. The pressure building and relaxing as she takes the thick latex cock into her. I pull out a bit and slam back inside her. So much more satisfying when, I feel her flesh around me, but soon.

She shrieks with her mouth closed, like my good little girl. I pound into her sweet ass, giving no quarter. She is crying, tears streaming down her face. Which only serves to quicken my own cock to wakefulness. I bury the dildo deep inside of her. Then remove the straps. I reverse them and strap the cock inside of her. Trapped until I allow removal. Her body shudders and quakes. Used like the beautiful slut she is, she rocks back and forth, grinding into the padded saw horse.

I leave her there where I can watch her.
I lift Sara to here feet and walk her to the sofa.

“Sara, you are to suck me down. For each orgasm you ruin, I remove a bell. Get to work.”

I want to ride my Sara but I’m spent for now.