Bratty sub | Series
Secret Diary #3
A submissive gets permission for a piercing, and her excitement reaps sexy rewards all round
Part of a lifestyle D/s couple, submissive ‘rabbit’ logs her thoughts and feelings in a diary. She seems unaware that her Dom reads it then uses the knowledge to his advantage.
Each story stands alone, but you may prefer to read Part 1 and Part 2 first.
[11 July 2018]
Sir has told me it would please him if I got a piercing. [Squeeeee! So excited]
Toyed with the idea of getting my clitoral hood pierced, it would feel so sexy. Every brush of underwear, bed sheets, even the impact of water droplets would have me humming with desire. I get wet when I think about it.
But, what if it went wrong? What if my lovely, responsive clit — favourite part of my body and central to my arousal and pleasure — was numbed by the piercing? I can’t contemplate how I’d feel. It could be sore for a long time, meaning I’d have to abstain from sex, or certain types of sex play could hurt. I wouldn’t survive, so I’ve decided against that.
I shall get my navel pierced — the belly bars are so pretty. A ball at one end and a jewel at the other, or a jewel either end … or a dangling charm. How cool. Sir said I may choose my own decorative item once the piercing has healed.
When he told me, I gave him the longest, slowest, sloppiest blow job that I could. I’m excited and grateful. I will feel so pretty and adorned.
[13 July 2018]
We went to the piercing place. It was a shop filled with ‘alternative’, new age items, crystals, jewellery for all sorts of piercings, candles, oil burners, goth clothes and accessories — it was an Aladdin’s den. Sir waited upstairs while I followed the piercing technician down to her small, sterile room. As I lay on the padded therapy couch I felt a sudden quiver of shyness when she instructed me to lift my dress to access my belly to swab the piercing site clean.
“I’m not wearing any knickers,” I warned
She made no remark but I felt the need to elaborate. “I’m a sub.” The piercing technician swiped my abdomen with cold alcohol. “My Dom doesn’t allow me to wear knickers.”
“Don’t worry. It doesn’t shock me.” She smiled, “My friend writes a sex blog.” She busied herself with the piercing paraphernalia, and then there was a clunk and it was done! My adrenaline was rushing so hard, I was barely aware of pain as she fastened the bar, instead I couldn’t wait to look at my new adornment.
Whilst I was admiring how my piercing looked, she wrote down the name of that blog for me, I hope Sir will let me read it.
When I climbed the stairs, my legs felt slightly wobbly, the elation from enduring the procedure, I guess. I grinned widely at Sir, who was paying for my piercing, then the sales assistant passed him a brown paper bag. I knew better than to ask him what it contained, I’d find out when Sir was ready to tell me.
[16 July 2018]
I found out what was in the bag!
This morning I prepared Sir’s breakfast before going to wake him, as I always do. I drew the curtains at 7 am precisely, the daylight bathed my naked body and I turned to face my master. He looked so delicious, all sleepy with his hair tousled, so I made a cheeky request.
“May I service your EMT?”
(Dunno if this is common terminology - it’s what we call it : Early Morning Throbber)
“You may, rabbit. But no hands.”
I sank to my knees at once and he threw back the sheet, his delicious prick rising to meet me. I licked my lips then sank my head to engulf its shiny tip, my warm wet mouth providing a safe haven. I hummed with desire. My new piercing was a little sensitive when I bent to my task.
I enjoyed the feeling of my hands behind my back, I wished they were properly tied. My breasts jutted forward, nipples hard as bullets, I welcomed the frisson provided by contact with the mattress. Moaning lustily I slurped and sucked around his frenulum. How I love that sensitive ledge between helmet and shaft. I licked and tickled it thoroughly, making Sir growl.
Sir’s hand came down on the back of my head, guiding me closer, nestling my nose in his wiry, fragrant musk. I tried not to gag as his cock touched the back of my throat. My pussy literally throbbed as I struggled to accommodate him as deep as he was holding me, his dominance is so thrilling. He soon eased his grip, which allowed me to bob and worship his priapic glory. I lubed it smoothly up and down with tightly sucking cheeks.
“Look at me,” he growled. His hoarse voice betrayed how this was affecting him
I opened my eyes wide, my ‘baby girl’ look (which melts him). I sank to gagging point on his shaft with every dip, making my eyes water and my mouth drool. Sir loves me looking wrecked and used. My wet desire was coating the top of my thighs at my debasement.
Sir reached out with his hands to grip my nipples with an unforgiving pinch and twist. My eyes watered more, an alluring ache bounced from breasts to pussy and back to breasts with lightning speed. I loved how punished and used I felt.
Like a horse urged faster by it’s rider’s spurs, I intensified my sucking and bobbing
Sir’s mighty cock pistoned in and out of my greedy mouth until I felt the first spurts of cum hitting my throat.
“Swallow girl!” he rasped, pulling on my breasts and fucking my face. I gulped and swallowed, allowing no salty emission to escape. A throb echoed in my pussy. I felt so ready to be fucked, but this moment was his solo reward. My passive pleasure came from pleasing him.
[after breakfast]
I love my gift! Sir gave me the prettiest black socks, they’re so long they could be stockings. Each has a dainty satin bow at the top, which looks so cute when I gaze down. They have a herringbone stitch pattern which creates ribs up my legs and they’re VERY sexy. They’ll make great spanking attire, so I plan to be very naughty and sassy today. I want to earn a sore, red bottom, which will look fine glowing above my saucy knitted stockings.
When Sir spanks me or paddles me, I love to make a lot of noise and wriggle in his lap,. It’s an excuse to press his stirring cock against my hip or stomach. His hand rests on the small of my back, while my hands are on the floor, my toes barely getting purchase. The more I wriggle with pain (which I secretly love) the more I spread my thighs apart, thus displaying the soft ‘purse’ of my pussy which swells and heats with arousal.
There is a low place on my buttocks, the padding over my ‘sit’ bones as my pilates teacher would say. When Sir strikes me there, with his palm, the paddle or even the dreaded cane, it lights the blue touchpaper to my orgasm. Sir spreads the impact distribution around my buttock and thigh area but he saves the hardest blows for there — it’s his bullseye and mine!
It will look so delicious, I plan to inspect my rear in the mirror after he’s punished me! My bottom radiator red, glowing with finger marks or impact lines, a contrast with the paleness of my fleshy thighs; A frame provided by those long black socks. I can hardly wait!
To be continued …
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