I’m not sure what is more difficult. Waiting for him and letting my imagination run loose, or knowing it’s been a very, very long time since we’ve had a Proper Session and assuming this is what he will want. The true difficulties lies in his text:  I will be there sometime this afternoon. Be naked, completely cleaned (I know what that means), and comfortable. I’d best not see, feel, or taste any type of preparation other than a clean, shaved, dry body.

Dry?? Really? How? How could I possibly keep myself dry when I know he’s coming over? The idea of him makes me wet. His voice makes my nipples harden. His touch – a finger down my neck- is enough to make my knees go weak. A kiss will make me come. But now, after showering, washing my hair, shaving my legs, pits, and cat, lathering everything, cleaning out my bowels, and putting sweet smelling lotion on my skin, I’m expected to NOT be excited? Impossible.

Impossible. I slap my hand against my forehead. Of course, it’s impossible. That’s his plan. The longer he makes me wait, the higher my imagination will fly, and the more excited I will become. I can already smell the results of that excitement. I have no doubt if I touched myself, I’d find the wet evidence as well. He knows, that no matter how much I WANT to obey, I’ll never be able to. This is his plan!

I hear the door open and remain where I am, bend over an armchair gazing out a window. He stands behind me and nudges my legs apart.

“Did you not understand my order?”

“I did, my Ard Ri. but I couldn’t control myself,” I answered honestly.

He tsked his tongue in feigned disappointment. I heard his belt slide off , then his zipper lowering. I closed my eyes and began to pant. 

“Number.”

I had to think of an appropriate number. If I went too low, he’d double or triple it. Too high, and he’d abide by it. Today is the 3rd of March. Too low. But, it’s also the third month. 6. Maybe. After all, this is just the beginning.

“6.”

Silence. Too low? I know it’s not too high! I hear the whistle before I feel the burn as his belt sings across my upraised ass.

“Six will do,” he whispers and quickly applies the next five.

My ass is covered in fiery welts which serve only to make my puss drip even more. He positions himself behind me and plunges balls deep inside the prepared tunnel. I throw my head back and scream his name. The waves cover me, consume me, and I live only inside of the glory of this orgasm. Quickly, he joins me, pulling out and spraying my tender ass with his soothing, hot cream.

“There,” he pants. “Now that we’ve both taken the edge off, let’s spend the rest of the evening at a slower, yet still very intense pace. I have plans.”

I turned to face him and wrapped my arms around his neck. “That would be lovely, Ard ri. Exactly what I was hoping for.”