BuRRgundy

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"buRRgundy"


I am very happy because my Master visited me this weekend.

My name is buRRgundy, and I stand just over six feet tall in my stocking feet. I am quite well endowed with at nearly 40DD. Because of my size and my aggressive personality, most people assume (and/or hope) that I am a Mistress, but I truly enjoy being a female submissive. My hair is just over shoulder length, and it is rather wavy and reddish-brown in color. Because of my body size, I have developed some foot and knee problems. I can't stay in a kneeling position for very long (although I wish I could) and he understands this physical constraint. He allows me to sit on a short stool, or lay next to him, instead of kneeling before him.

My Master and I have known each other for many years, but we don't get time together very often because he lives in the San Francisco Bay Area, and I live in Fresno some 170 miles away. Our "get together time" occurs about four or five times a year, and it is always something I look forward to.

For several days before his most recent arrival, we talked by phone and via Yahoo Messenger. I had several tasks that I had to perform before he arrived. I was instructed to purchase a new sheer, white blouse to go with my short black skirt, and make an appointment at the beauty parlor to insure that my hair and nails were done, and to have my underarms and pubic hair waxed. He often quips that he doesn't want to pick up a rental car that isn't clean inside and out, and that the car should be maintained and that it should be ready to be driven anyplace he might want to go.

The night before he arrived, I was instructed to handle any tasks that might interfere with our time together. We will be together only one day or so at a time and he doesn't want anything interrupting us. On one trip last summer, my parents called with a family problem. I was afraid he would get angry about the interruption. He responded that emergencies were understandable, but that my girlfriend calling about a shopping trip was definitely not an emergency. Anyway, he even drove me to my parents' home and helped with the problem.

I was then instructed to sleep nude, blindfolded, collared, and with my ankles bound. Sometimes he orders me to sleep gagged as well, but for some reason, the gag wasn't added to the list. I started to ask if he had forgotten about the gag but quickly thought better of it. As if reading my mind, he told me that I should not wear a gag that night because he had special plans for me. I wasn't sure I liked the tone in his voice but decided to not push my luck.

On the morning of his arrival, he called me at 8 am with last-minute instructions. I was to wear the white blouse (no bra) black skirt (no panties) heels (at least four inches) stockings (not pantyhose) and a garter belt. He said he would be arriving about noon, and that I should be ready to go to lunch at a restaurant. I mentioned that I had heard that a new, upscale Japanese restaurant had opened not far away, and I would like to go there for lunch. He told me that since I had chosen the restaurant, he would pick out my jewelry. I started to ask what jewelry but DEFINITELY thought better than to ask.

Several hours later, he called to let me know that he was about fifteen minutes from my house. I made last minute touch-up to my appearance, freshened makeup and lipstick, and went to the front door. This is always the worst part for me, the waiting. I would like to kneel at the door, but because of my feet and knees, I sit on a stool, blindfolded, near the unlocked front door. These few minutes are terrible --- the waiting before an unlocked door, my knees parted, open and vulnerable. I hear a car in the driveway, two doors open and close. A finger on the button beside the door causes the doorbell to announce someone's arrival. I sit in confusion, wondering why Master is ringing the doorbell since he knows that I have left the door unlocked. Who is the second person with Master? After a few moments, they ring the doorbell again, and now I am truly bewildered and confounded. Should I break position and answer the door or stay where I am ordered to be?

Another car arrives, and I hear another car door opening and closing. I hear voices on the porch, but they are unintelligible. A few more moments (that seem like hours) pass. The door slowly opens and my Master enters. He removes my blindfold and I see him standing there with a broad smile on his face. I sat there, awaiting a comment or explanation, but he just stood there, smiling and looking at my face. After a century or two had passed (or at least it seemed that long) I started to speak, but he just put a horizontal index finger before my lips, his signal that I should silently kiss it. He placed his right knee between my knees, and gently kicked my feet, indicating I should widen the space between them, opening my knees further. The bastard, sorry, Master is actually enjoying my discomfort.

Several more centuries pass, and he says, "Funny thing just happened. I got to your front door and there were two people standing outside, ringing your doorbell." He lifts the hem of my skirt to verify my lack of panties. "AND???", I'm thinking, but unable to speak with his finger in my mouth. After another long pause, he drops my skirt and places his hand inside my blouse to verify that I am not wearing a bra, which he could have verified by looking THROUGH my sheer blouse. He orders me to stand, with his finger still silencing me. He orders me to turn and face the wall, hands against the wall, and back up so that my weight redistributes as I lean forward. His hands take my head and direct it to the position he wants. "AND???", I again yell in silence. He pulls up my skirt and explores between my legs, my body nearly going limp. He walks forward so that his body is pressing against my back and his left hand insinuates itself between two buttons; he squeezes my right breast. He gently bites me on the neck, I can feel his breath, warm and humid against my skin, and I moan ever so slightly. He slowly turns his head and I can feel his lips and teeth on my ear. I try to move my head closer to his lips, but I am ordered back to my original position. His lips continue exploring each pore of my ear, making me feel as if some device slowly removing air from my lungs and converting it to moisture between my legs. He begins that magical sequences of numbers and my world is centered on the fingers between my legs as I try to bend my knees and lower myself onto my Master's hand. He again orders me back to my position. Now my body is trying to decide whether it should become a puddle on the floor, or climb the wall before me. I am trying to remain to stand as my body, almost involuntarily, reaches a plateau of orgasm that only my Master seems able to extract from me. He whispers, "They were looking for the house across the street." My totally perplexed brain takes in a breath and I say, "Who? What people?" He smiles and sends me to the bathroom to repair makeup and clothing.

After returning to the front hallway, I try to reconstitute earlier events, and he repeats that the people at the door were looking for the house across the street. "Oh," I get out, just before he squeezes my nose, and he interjects, "Oh, Master."

We leave the house, drive to the restaurant for lunch and do some quick shopping before returning to my house. I start putting my purchases away and he tells me to meet him in the bedroom. He goes to his car, and returning enters the bedroom, and closes the door behind him. I finish my appointed tasks and approach the door. Should I knock, kneel and knock, or just remove all of my clothes and, bursting through the door at a full run, yell, "Whatever you want, you may have and/or take, Master!" I decide a compromise is appropriate, so I quietly knock on the door one time, enter, and kneel just beyond the threshold. He is sitting in a chair with his back to the pool in the backyard, reading a magazine. A magazine? Hey, Master! You have a slave here, willing to do whatever you want, and you're reading a magazine? Are you stupid, or what?

A few more moments pass and he puts the magazine on the table next to the chair. He sits and watches me, for what I know not. Damn him, I think. We only have the weekend, and he is wasting time. Get over here and drive me totally insane. ("Master?") Make me take you in my mouth, or any other place you wish. ("Master?") What's with these Master thoughts? Please, just jump over here and rape me.

He simply leans forward in the chair and points to a place on the floor between his feet. I teleport to the appointed place, and, head down, back straight, say, "Yes, Master?" He places his foot on my leg and leans back in the chair, his signal that I should remove shoes and socks and begin massaging his feet. Then his bare feet are removed from my hands and he stands before me. He removes his shirt and undershirt and awaited my next, unspoken, command. I rise slightly from my position and unbuckle his pants, remove them, and fold them over the chair. He is standing there, his cock just inches from my face. I want my lips around him. I want him to grab me by the hair and force himself into my mouth. Instead, he just reaches over to the table, picks up a bottle of massage oil and hands it to me as he walks to, and then lies down on, the bed. Master instructs me to stand and remove my clothes.

I join him and massage his body from top-knot to toenails. I kiss him, my lips exploring his body. I chuckle to myself as I think that the massage oil makes him taste better than I remember. I nibble on his butt, my teeth gently grazing his skin, careful not to bite. I use a towel to remove the excess oil and he rolls over onto his back. I approach my "chore" with delight as my hands follow each cleft and hillock of his body. The oil allows me to move as if on an oil-covered Teflon surface. I try to tease him verbally and non-verbally into having sex with me. I intentionally reach over him, rubbing an elbow or breast against him, all to no avail. He allows me to make all the advances I want, but he does not respond to any of them. I straddle his body, massaging his chest, trying to move against his cock, nothing. I lean to massage his neck, my breasts rubbing against his chest, nothing. I move toward his feet and start to touch his cock, and finally something. He reaches down and grabs my hair and directs me to kneel on the floor beside the bed. It hurt my knees but I really don't mind the pain.

He stood, and taking my hand, he turned it palm upward. Now, I don't know if you know it or not, but if someone turns your hand so the palm is upward, and put even the slightest pressure on your fingers, you WILL go wherever you are directed or you will feel unbelievable pressure and pain. Now Master is just two inches shorter than I am, but we were looking eye-to-eye. He kissed me and asked, "Do you have a slave name?"

"Yes, Master, buRRgundy, Master."

"Do you have a collar, buRRgundy?"

At that, my brain just exploded. "I had a collar, but I lost it. I told you that last time you were here, Master."

He didn't say anything. He turned to the table beside the bed and made a blindfold from one of two bandanas. He marched me to the wall, and I once again found myself in the same position I was in when he entered the house. "Do you think that slaves should wear a collar?' and I answered in the affirmative.

He wrenches my hair so tightly I was afraid that I would resemble a billiard ball, and with his other hand, gives me several swats on my bare ass. Ah, now we are talking. Master is being a Master - forcing his slave into a mode of subservience. This is what I want - what I need - to make my life have meaning. He returned to the table and returned with another bandanna to act as a gag, and gave me another dozen swats. From somewhere in the ether, a collar was placed around my neck and a leash was attached to it. My blindfold was removed and I was pulled into the bathroom. As I passed the mirror, I indicated that I wanted to see my collar. It was black with rhinestones attached, and a purple heart with "buRRgundy" inscribed on it, was hanging beneath a loop on the collar. My eyes began to water because I was so happy but then looked askance at Master. He just smiled, "A Master doesn't usually ask a question unless he already knows the answer. I knew you had lost your collar."

I am guided into the shower and I notice something new attached to the shower walls. "Rachel's Pleasures, Tub Cuffs, Model 252," he says, answering my question, "a ballistic nylon cuff with a Velcro closure, attached to a large suction cup."

He sits me on my shower chair and captures each wrist in a cuff that forces my hands above my head. He again places the blindfold around my head, and there I sit. Warm water is flowing over my body. I am gagged and blindfolded, sitting in the bathtub. He picks up a bottle of my body wash and begins lathering my body: my breasts, my stomach, between my legs. From nowhere, a battery-powered vibrator begins invading my body while the speed is being turned up and down. "Waterproof Silicon G vibrator from Eden Fantasies," he reports without a change of tone.

"Damn Engineers," I think to myself, "to them, a kiss is the juxtaposition of two orbicularis muscles in a state of contraction, and a rose is merely a flowering shrub of the genus Rosa." Sometimes I think he is a cross between Star Trek's Mr. Spock updated with the latest version of the Google database and the Marquis de Sade, but I so truly look forward to doing absolutely anything he wants me to do.

He begins counting in my ear and I want to beg him to slow down so that I can enjoy our time together. As the count approaches zero, I realize that I want him to speed up so I can enjoy an orgasm, but he controls the speed. As he says zero in my ear, I achieve my first orgasm. During the next ten minutes, he repeats the count downs and I achieve six more orgasms, each one stronger than its predecessor.

About the time I think I'm ready to become a liquid and follow the water down the drain, he removes the vibrator, and I decided that it might be a good time to begin breathing again. He removes the blindfold, disconnects the cuffs from the wall. He directs me to reciprocate and give him a shower. Reciprocate, Hell. I am going to give this man the shower of his life --- one to be remembered into the afterlife. And I do. And then I do it all again, and again.

Shower is completed, we step from the tub and I start to towel myself. He again picks up the leash (waterproof, remember?) and leads me into the backyard and into the swimming pool. In all the time I've lived in this house, I have never gone "skinny-dipping", even in my own pool. I have thought about it in the past, but somehow I never had the nerve to do so. The fences are tall, but there are thin spaces between the boards, and there are, well, neighbors.

Once in the pool, I sit on the steps and he attaches the suction cups to the sides of the pool. A funny-shaped piece of stainless steel appears. It is placed between my teeth, and a harness is connected behind my head. "It is called a -Flirtation Gag'. Its intent is to remind you that you are gagged, but allows you to kiss or lick you, Master." He begins demonstrating -its intent' and the blindfold returns. The vibrator also returns and I start to protest, but Master's lips and mouth are suggesting that I think about something else. Two more orgasms and I feel like I am floating. I have become one with the water. Oh, yea. I'm in the swimming pool. I think to myself, "Can a person die from too many orgasms?" and a third wave, and I do mean wave, envelops me.

As I come back to reality (?) I realize that I am still in the pool, still bound, and still nude. I nuzzle him and he removes the gag. "Master, I'm getting cold. Can we return to the house?"

We return to the living room and he sits on the sofa. I decide to sit on the floor in front of him, my head (wet hair and all) in his lap, and I fall asleep. After all the "exercises", I don't understand why I should be tired.

An hour later, I awake to find Master sitting there watching me. He says, "I enjoy watching you sleep, but now it is time for you to give me pleasure if you wish?"

What is wrong with this man? -If I wish' is what I want!

"Go to the bedroom and make yourself ready."

I do my interpretation of the lady who holds the world's land speed record and bolts for the bathroom. Quick potty break, fix my makeup, brush out my hair and I dash back to the bedroom. He is standing beside the bed, a riding crop in one hand and a flogger in the other. He holds them out to me, and says, "Pick one." Decisions, decisions.

"I am but a slave; you should make the decision, Master."

"Normally I would, but this is a special event."

I begin thinking to myself, special event. What is special about today? Have I forgotten an anniversary?

"My birthday was last week, and I have decided that this year, you shall receive my birthday spanking. After that, as the Walrus says, - The time has come to talk of many things: Of shoes and ships and sealing wax, of cabbages and kings and why the sea is boiling hot, and whether pigs have wings, and what you are going to do to make me climax. Now, about my birthday spanking; should I count up or down?"

I would like to continue, but right now I really need to take a break. My butt is sore, and after rereading this story, I really need to find my vibrator! I'll continue with the evening's events later.

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