As he watched I found myself becoming wetter with His desire. My desire. The intoxicating mixture of him and me…that chemistry…that spark….that perfection. I was his plaything tonight. I was his performance piece…his theatre…his art. He was the author, the playwright, the artist. I was his creation.
As I knelt up on my knees, my ass thrust back to him sharply, my fingers working progressively faster and firmer over my hard swollen clit I could hear him laugh with joy. His work of art come to life, if you will. As a joy filled theatre goer smiles and gloats with delight at the beauty being played out in front of his eyes on stage, so too, did my Sir’s spirits lift as he watched me perform for him to his exact specification – the act written entirely to his need – his hearts desire being created.
I could feel my orgasm rising up to meet my needy fingers. The glass dildo by my side calling me to help tip me over balance. I knew where I wanted it, I knew how I wanted it….but would he let me or was this instrument of pleasure left there to taunt me? I had been awaiting his instruction for its use for near enough half an hour now…trying to hold off my climax until his say-so. His eyes boring into me made my ability come oh so easy and so so sweet. With his mind only on me as I play for his delight, the grip of orgasm appears and takes me over almost instantly.
“Now” he commanded from behind me. My hand was on it before his word was spoken…I thrust the cool glass shaft of the plaything into me to allow it take on the smooth slipperiness I knew I held within me, on me, dripping down me….before moving it backwards toward where it was needed most. I think even he was surprised…he had never seen me in this state before. So desperate to fulfil myself…usually this was done by him. But without him, my own animal instincts over took and I quite forgot he was even there…but for his heavy, wanton breathing which served as nothing but a beautiful, melodic score to my over powering one act monologue – it merely further fuelled my passion and carried me ever forward toward my final climactic scene.
As the head of the dildo push against me, to a place where only He may enter, I felt the surge of pleasure wash over in a heady wave…the exaggeration wideness of the head pushed me open and I gasped as I sunk down its length. The coolness soothing my heat, the hardness pinning me to it…the fingers on my clit felt as though they were on fire as I pushed myself down its length and back up to it’s head..once again opening myself up and feeling the pressure…pleasure and pain…before once again forcing myself back down. I could feel the glass cock deep within my body and the idea of this, coupled with my frenzied fingers and his fervent gaze built a pleasure which was utterly unstoppable. I pushed my body up and down hard and fast, holding the end of the dildo to the bed allowing me full penetration…not a milimetre lost to a misplaced movement.
He could sense I was more than on the edge…how could he not. My moaning was that of a desperate woman…I was fighting the orgasm all the while my body ploughed on doing its very own act quite without my permission. Were I real actor I would be fired for ignoring the directors instructions…but He knew…He knew I would not disobey knowingly and that the only thing to be done at this moment was to reward my efforts to holdback as opposed to allow it to continue and have to punish my disobedience. Sweat dripping from the effort of fucking, of withholding and from my pre-orgasm; my breath hard and alive in my lungs…my heart pounding, no need for the orchestra…between us we were the entire soundtrack to this piece. And then his final words were spoken:
“Good girl…you have had enough…you may come”.