Welcome to my Caravan! Yes, it’s tiny. Yes, it’s old fashioned. Yes, it’s perfect! This is my sanctuary – well, OUR sanctuary really. This is where I can shed my well cared for and perfected persona of a highly respected intellectual and transform into my secret, inner self. Milord knew I had trouble focusing when I write, so he built this for me. Only I am allowed in it – not even He will enter without an invitation. When that invitation is sent, though, it does so with certain conditions – which I’m more than happy to comply with!
First, I must actually write out a formal invitation setting a specific time for Milord to visit. In this way, I will be prepared – as will he – and will have no excuse for being surprised. I hand deliver the invitation to him, so that we both can be sure that it has been received. Before he arrives, I make sure everything is neat and tidy – all my writing putting away. Inside the caravan is a double sized bed, a table, one chair, build in cabinets filled with various supplies for both writing, living, and playing. The little tilt windows are dressed with floral curtains, and I keep a few bottles of water, some tea, 2 cups, a kettle, and a few snacks. There is one electrical outlet connected to an outside battery which I can use for either a fan or my laptop. For light, I use candles. For heat, a brazier. If I am here after dark, which we will be tonight, I stack firewood by the small pit and build up a campfire.
I hear him coming and smooth my dress. It’s a simple garment, and the only one I’m allowed to wear here, at least when Milord visits! If the weather is chilly, I may, naturally, add shawls for warmth. When he comes into the clearing holding a freshly cut switch I go to him, kiss him, then return to my caravan. I place my hands on the steps, he lifts my dress. Without warm up, he uses the switch on my bare bottom. This is the price I willing pay for the gift of my caravan. As he raises small welts on my flesh, I feel my internal thermostat rise. By the time the switch has broken, my will is his. I could no more make a decision for myself than I could fly away. I’m trembling with desire, anticipation, and need. My skin is on fire, but so is my soul. I hear him undress, but I do not move. He hasn’t given me permission yet. Nor will he until he has first satisfied his own needs. I feel his cock enter me and I’m undone. I come. Quivering around his cock. He digs his fingers into my hips and he fucks me. Tears wash down my face. I always cry. Whether it’s from the release, the pain, or the pleasure, I couldn’t say, but my tears please him, so I am unashamed. Faster and faster he fucks me. Then, he pulls out, spins me around. I fall to the ground, look up at him, and open my mouth. He feeds me his sweet joy and I eagerly accept. Now, now we can begin our time together. Now that our initial hot lust has been banked. For the rest of the evening, long into the night, and with any luck, into the morning, I will be his devoted hostess, seeing to his every want, and he, he will be my demanding and loving guest. There is nothing I will deny him. I wouldn’t have it any other way.
5 thoughts on “Caravan Cravings”
I loved reading this!! Thank you for sharing!
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