I can’t believe he wasn’t here for my birthday. I just can’t. He’s ALWAYS here for my birthday. This year, though, a family emergency called him away and so he was across the freakin’ country. I may or may not have went off on a rant about him abandoning me or something like that last night. About an hour ago he sent me a stern text message: 1. set up your the tripod in the bedroom. 2. Prepare your body. 3. put on lacy panties. 4. cuff yourself and attach the long chain to the headboard. 5. slip on the blindfold. 6. wait. 7. obey

Okay. I’d just manage to slip on the blindfold when I heard someone unlock the front door, shut it, lock it again, and walk into the bedroom. I was jumpy as shit, and kept asking who was there, but no answer. A phone was pressed against my ear and I heard Milord’s voice “Happy Birthday. My surrogate is going to be filming everything, my love, and sending me the live feed. Don’t disappoint me.”

I breathed out. Okay. I could do this. A moment later I felt strong fingers stroking my body, tweaking my nipples, diving beneath the crotch of my new lace panties. I squirmed, arched my back, and begged. More, please. He slapped my wet pussy. Hard. I yelped. His deep voice rumbled, telling me that he was in charge. I knew that voice, that strong hand. Milord had shared me with his cousin before and I sighed with relief. His hands kneaded my breasts, rough, harsh, unrelenting, while his mouth pulled at the sodden lace. His tongue pressed against the inconsequential barrier and I cried out, climaxing against his mouth. He grabbed my panties and ripped them from my body. A moment later he was on top of me, his thick cock pumping into me. I fisted my hands, straining against the chain that held them. I wanted so badly to to touch his hard body. He pulled my head back and captured my mouth, fucking it with his tongue as his cock fucked my pussy. He is not a gentle man, but is very thorough. His hands twiste

d my hair and twisted my nipples. I cried out, cringing away from the pain, yearn for more.

Again, I heard Milord’s voice. His cousin must have put him on Speaker. Good. Mark her. She loves it, you know. She likes to feel used and sore for days. I moaned. He was right. I did love that soreness between my legs, the sight of bite marks on my neck, tenderness each time I moved or sat.

Two hours later I lay in his arms, satiated and exhausted. The taste of his cum in my mouth, bits of it drying on my tits, and my thighs slick with its residue. He’d fucked my pussy, sprayed his cum across my body, forced me to suck him until he was hard again, flipped me over, and used my ass until he’d again empty his balls inside of me. I’d lost count of the number of orgasms I’d enjoyed. Throughout it all, Milord’d voice offered encouragment, instruction, and praise. Not only had Milord found a way to be with me on my birthday, he’d given me as a gift to his cousin as well. I snuggled into his strong arms, my wrists still cuffed but no longer changed, and remembered of the last words from Milord before he’d hung up the phone.

“I’ll be home in the morning, love. You should be ready to service us both as we enjoy this watching giving you your birthday spankings a day late. I wouldn’t plan on walking or sitting comfortably for a few days if I were you. Never doubt my love for you or my ability to make sure you have what you need.”

Best. Birthday. Ever.