Welcome to another episode of Bedtime Stories with Salty Vixen. Tonight’s story is tiled “on your knees”. You, Sir, took off my bra you pulled the top of my dress up, covering my naked breasts. You ran your hands over them and then turned me around. You then went to your knees behind me. With two hands you slowly raised the hem of the dress up the back of my legs.
You paused just below my ass before you lifted my dress higher and groaned at the sight of the grey lace pangies. I leaned forward against the back of the couch as you ran your hands over my ass and then buried his face in the crack of my ass. You took off my underwear and pushed apart my legs to get a better look. Yes, you then slid your right hand up the inside of my thigh before slipping it between my thighs. I moaned a little as I felt his fingers stroking and exploring.
You took your hand away and I gasped in delight as you replaced it with your tongue. I moaned and leant back against you. You let me enjoy the pleasant sensation of your magical tongue and your roaming hands as they squeezed my ass cheeks before you pulled back and slapped my ass. You stood up and turned me around. Then you unbuckled your belt,
time to be spanked, you naughty Salty Vixen” you said to me. Oh I can’t wait for that!
Who is in control tonight? Is it you? Or is it me… oh you know the answer, Sir.. always me 😉 you will have your turn in a few days. Let’s begin..
Proud. Even when you're on your knees, you are proud. Kneeling tall and straight, naked except for the leather that circled your dripping cock, your entire body spoke to me. "I'm
yours," it said. "Don't make me come," your mouth ordered.
The game was afoot. The warm spring sunshine poured through the expansive glass windows in my office and for once, the rent didn't seem so high, even for prime space in the tall green glass skyscraper - - one of three that defines downtown in this small city. It was Saturday and the network needed repair, something I've done a hundred times, yet today was different.
You were there. On your knees. Naked.
The computers were first. Without a working network, the office space was useless, so as you waited, I worked. A simple fix, a weary connector, and I opened the closed door behind which you were waiting. On your knees. Naked.
When I signed in downstairs, I checked the log book. I knew that no one else was on my floor. Maybe there were five other people in the building but we were virtually alone. After such a long time of interference from reality, we had time. And world.
You wanted the blindfold off your eyes. The *new* blindfold...
the one I bought in Atlanta two months ago - - and you wanted it off. Instead, I showed you the new toys, one by agonizing one, as you remained silent. On your knees. Naked.
First things first. So many weeks of stress and strain and illness and moving wore heavily on your shoulders.
Change, even good change, is stressful and you were carrying it proudly, as you always do, but enough is enough. Sharing your stress seemed noble at first, but finally wore on me, too. I saw you almost every day and hungered for you but couldn't touch you.
Not in your office. Not in mine. It was agony, seeing you proud and strong, yet unable to rest my fingers on your face or take your sweet shaved balls into my palms.
But not today. Today was *our* time, *our* world. Just like the
poem you sent me that rests framed on my desk, right next to my monitor. "If we had but world and time..." Today. Now. Here. We have both. And I have you. On your knees. Naked.
Standing behind you, I rested your head on my breasts and
massaged the stress of past several weeks out of your body. Feeling your shoulders again was music to my fingers and kneading the stress from your chest was the crescendo of the symphony.
Don't make me come," you half-pleaded, half-mumbled and I nodded, then giggled, realizing the blindfold was more secure than I had imagined when I purchased it. My hands moved down your arms, felt your stomach, rose to your head and touched every inch of you in a sort of re-acquaintance that drove my hunger.
As I watched your cock drip onto the teal carpet, I felt my lingerie soak from my desire. I took a few steps and stood in front of you, as you knelt there, naked. New toys. The wheel - - cold silver metal with sharp teeth - - danced along your skin from your strong neck to your wet toes and brought expressions of delight intermingled with intensity to your face. "Pain with a purpose," you always say, "is good pain."
Judging from your face, this particular torment was good. Very good. More toys. The rainbow-colored belt fit so nicely into my hand and you knelt silently, enduring the build up of emotions that I was now allowing to exude from my brain and express with my hands. I made your hand feel the new lingerie I wore for you and a small, "Nice," dripped from your lips. Can you feel "black" like you can feel lace?
Your strong chest spoke volumes to me. How many times had I known it was there, under your shirt, and been unable to play with it? How many times had I wanted you to take those damnable clothes off but been unable to command it? Why did the real world put us in this vise of pressure and grip us so entirely that our simple desires went unspoken? I wanted only one thing: you. On your knees. Naked.
Saturday mornings are for manicures and I brought ten freshly-painted fingers to your skin. Carefully, I stroked you and watched your face metamorphose from delight to agony and back again. Full circle.
You never moved from where you knelt yet I circled you like a cat stalking her prey. A wince. A small groan. My ears could barely handle the symphony that escaped from your throat.
As the sun beat mercilessly through the wall of windows, an
occasional beam danced on your skin. I watched you glow from the sunshine and felt myself almost unable to continue. Your flesh
was mine.
"Use me," you pleaded and demanded throatily at the same time.
And the wetness poured from deep inside me as I heard you beg yet
remain on your knees. Naked.
"It's your toy," you whispered and I held your neck as the emotions swirled and my head felt light. For a moment, I stepped back, just to see you. On your knees. Naked.
It came from somewhere. The weeks of denial, of seeing you in the real world and prevented from touching you, of hungering for you, of yearning for those few moments of time, of seeking a small world of uninterrupted space, of imagining you to be exactly where you were at this moment, rushed in and replaced all sense or logic.
I was standing still yet spinning; focusing yet seeing nothing. You entered your own headspace the moment I buckled the blindfold, and I had now joined you in that magical kingdom of desire that exists between us. Silently. Unspoken.
As we drove closer and closer to our edge, you endured. On your
knees. Naked.
No plane could take us to these heights. With my mind soaring like an eagle, I hungered for you. My lips parted as I knelt in front of you and in a single motion pressed your hands behind your naked back. You knew what I wanted. And you obeyed.
When my tongue first tasted you, a moan broke from your mouth. It rose in volume as I licked my way around the leather and visited every inch of your skin. The familiarity of your fragrance enticed me and filled my hazy head with reminder.
You. I could taste you again. Whatever else interfered in our
lives, the taste of you brought me home. Forced to remain motionless, you swayed slightly with my exploration and pleaded silently for me to continue. Your entire body was still yet in motion, hungrily urging me to press on.
Every sound that fell from your lips landed in my ears and drove me farther and deeper into my hunger for you. Yet you remained on your knees. Naked. More toys. Electric toys.
Batteries. Wires. I had shopped well in Atlanta and today you met my purchases. The file cabinet was almost empty and the floor, desk and table were littered with remnants of packaging. The physical mess in my office was merely a metaphor of my passion. .
Mercilessly, I returned to taste you again and listened as sounds that are always new and fresh sprang from your mouth. I couldn't get enough of you. No matter how much I took inside my lips, I wanted more. I heard you begging, "Don't make me come... please..." and I rejoiced in the plea. Whenever I looked at you, my eyes sipped on your image and my hunger relished in the taste of your skin.
Plead. Beg. It's the music of my being. But be on your knees. Naked. The blindfold never allowed you to witness my smile.
"Please," you begged again. "Please," Your single word fed my hunger and your naked body filled my mind. I didn't know where you were, but I knew where I was headed: deeper and deeper into my hunger - - into my personal insanity. You kept feeding me with your words.
"Please - - don't - - make - - me - - come," and the single syllables drifted in and out of my brain. As if I were falling, I held onto your skin more tightly and felt my thirsty lips drink from the fountain that gushed ceaselessly from what was boiling deep inside your being.
pressed myself against your thigh and wrapped my arms around your shoulders. My head rested on your strong neck.
And I closed my eyes.
The feeling hit my thighs and you knew it. Gripping me tightly with your strong hands, you held me through wave after wave of insane delight. I felt nothing - - yet I felt everything.
I knew you wouldn't let go - - I was certain that you would hang on no matter how I struggled or into what insanity I fell. That sort of knowing defines us. As much as you know I will never hurt you, *I* know that you will keep me safe.
No matter what. Perhaps a little pain because all I felt was my body pressing into yours and the intermingled pain and pleasure juxtaposed throughout the timelessness that surrounded me.
You tensed your leg, I could feel it, and both allowed and encouraged me to experience the joy that you bring to me as your gift. Now you know why there's no clock in my office. When I'm with you, moments are eternity.
Slowly, I disentangled myself from your arms and crept up to shaking legs. Stepping back, I opened my eyes and drank in the sight of you on your knees. Naked.
Those were happy tears, and you knew it. I watched a small smile break your perspiring face as you remained where I craved to see you: on your knees. Naked.
