Fantasy v. Reality

We had just come back from the beach, Master was off investigating the B&B. I had taken a quick shower and lay stretched out on my stomach in only panties reading. I heard the door open and shut but stayed where I was up on my elbows, my legs bent ankles crossed and continued with my book. I heard the little chime of Masters camera as he turned it on and smiled to myself knowing that that sound meant that I was laying in a position he enjoyed. When he was done taking photos he climbed up on the bed and told me he had decided he was going to have me before dinner. My heart fluttered, I threw my book mark in my book just as he grabbed a hold of my hair and pushed my head in his lap. While I held him in my mouth using my tongue up and down his length and around the tip he pulled my panties down, running his hand across my ass, lightly patting it. Occasionally he would hold my head down not allowing me to move, his cock buried at the back of my throat telling me to use more tongue or to just hold still. I was becoming more and more aroused squirming as his hand would graze my wetness.

He told me to turn over onto my back, while he moved to the foot of the bed and pulled me roughly down to meet him. From the moment I saw the four poster bed in our room I knew I would be bound to it at some point during our stay, it was just too tempting. I had started fantasizing about it as soon as I walked in the room. As Master spread my legs bracing one foot on each of the two bottom posts I knew my fantasies were about to come true.

Master bound my ankles to the post about two feet up from the bed, keeping my feet flat against them; my ass was poised on the edge of the bed giving him full access to his property. He stood between my legs and ran his hand down my body, took hold of my hips and thrust himself fully inside me. I tried to stifle my gasp of joy when he entered me. I love the feeling of Master filling me, using me as his little toy, and the feeling of helplessness that comes with not being able to move much.

I writhed and moaned as he bound my wrists together and put tortuously tight clamps on my nipples making me whimper even louder. The lobby was right outside our door so Master stuffed my panties in my mouth to muffle my cries. Patiently Master continued thrusting in and out of me as I moaned and twisted trying to get him to go deeper, take me harder, faster but he held me to his own rhythm occasionally picking up the camera to take photos of me in my helpless submission or playing with my clit making me twitch and struggle even more.

Master likes to feel me struggle. He wants me to try to move, and loves that I can’t. Even when I’m not bound he often holds me down and tells me to move knowing that I am no match for his strength and then there are the times he tells me not to move but doesn’t restrain me at all, moving the struggle from a physical to a mental struggle to remain still and obedient. Master particularly likes to do both at the same time, keeping me bound or restrained and then forcing me to stillness. To me this is torture, I want to scream and cry, like a little child when someone takes their favorite toy away. And then when he starts moving again I want to cry in pleasure at the overwhelming sensations and emotion of it and I don’t want him to stop.

My moans started turning into the pleas for release I would have been begging for if it wasn’t for the panties stuffed in my mouth. Master knew what I wanted, what I was hoping for and he leaned over me pressing his body to mine, the nipple clamps tugging on me with every rub of his body, his hands were underneath me gripping my shoulders as he drove himself into me hard and deep as he told me to come. My back arched up off the bed, my head bent back and I tried to contain my scream through my gag as he pushed me through to ecstasy. I lay there panting trying to catch my breath as Master pulled out of me making me whimper and pout at how empty I now felt. He bent down and pulled out his crop, giving me a few good smacks on my inner thighs and my ass, making me swell even more than I already was and began fanning the flames of new arousal.

He left me bound there and wandered around the bed taking more photos of his used, ravished and submissive property. When he was done impersonating the paparazzi he climbed up on the bed and laid by my head, his cock only inches from my lips. I stared at it hungrily and ran my tongue over my lips. He smiled and acknowledged my need but did not give in to it.

Master knows that I love sucking cock, it is one of the most gratifying feelings in the world to wrap my lips around him, feel him lengthen, harden and finally release his nourishment into my mouth, but at the moment he was just going to taunt me with it. Master reached out slowly and untied my legs, brushed my hair back from my face and then allowed me my reward. I smiled and wrapped my lips around him, thinking that reality was incomprehensibly more exciting and fabulous than even my vivid imagination could have dreamed up.

Photographs

I was browsing some other slave blogs today and I started to notice a common theme, many slaves have an aversion to having their picture taken while training. This really struck a cord with me. I used to have a very hard time with having my photo taken on regular occasions so it was particularly difficult for me to adjust to Master frequently taking photos during my trainings.

There are many reasons for this, I think like most women I have body image issues, I'm very critical of what I see in the mirror. It’s actually quite sad that so many of us can't embrace our shape. I applaud those women of varying shapes and sizes who love and accept their bodies. I am just beginning to embrace mine.

Another reason I’m leery of photos is the whole fear of them winding up on the internet somewhere where a coworker or family member will find it. I’m fairly identifiable in most photos so one leaked photo could seriously damage my career. So for me, Master’s photos of me were not only a lesson in acceptance of myself but also in trust.

When I first met Master I was very against any photos being taken of me. I voiced my objection which was noted, but ignored, as was his right. He has been very generous in not sharing these photos with anyone though. However, he has taken a few recently in which it would be very difficult to identify me and we have discussed sharing these with others. The decision is ultimately his but I am filled with gratitude at his willingness to discuss it with me. He can be very generous.

I have always found women attractive. I love their bodies and adore worshiping them with my fingers, hands, mouth etc. I have been with women of many shapes and sizes and my critics’ eye remains silent, it seems to only be reserved for me. Women’s shapes are erotic and beautiful and it has always struck me as such a paradox that I can feel this way about others and yet I am still so critical of my own body.

It’s still quite hard for me to look at the photos that Master has taken of me. I look at them with such a critical eye, but I am starting to see the beauty that he sees, the shape of my hip, the curve of my ass, the sexiness of an arched foot, the curve of my breasts. I have started to take photos of myself as a gift to him, and sometimes it's easier for me to look at those photos.

I feel that I am moving toward greater acceptance. It gets harder to feel critical when you are bound and posed on a bed or in a corner unable to move, with Master watching you as he would a sculpture or piece of art. You can’t help but feel beautiful like that. Sure at first it can be embarrassing; I would even go so far as to say humiliating at times. I would often disassociate taking myself away from what was happening but Master would bring me back to my training, making sure I understood my role. I don't find it quite as difficult anymore and strive to arch and curve my body in a way that is pleasing to him.

I’ve accepted the scrutiny of his gaze but I still have trouble with the photos. I’m hoping it won’t take too long before I can look at photos of myself, that he has taken of me bound, posed and submissive and appreciate the beauty as he does. I guess some barriers are just harder to break through than others.