Halloween night was a whirlwind of dark excitement and a tinge of fear. As I moved around the chilling environment of the London Dungeon, I couldn't shake off the anticipation of seeing Jade - or as I knew her in our more intimate moments, Miss J. Our plans were forming through the exchanged messages that danced on my screen, the vibration of each new text sending a shiver of anticipation down my spine.
"I wanna be served next week," her first message came through, clear and straightforward, commanding in its simplicity.
"Friday would be best," I replied, my mind already bracing for what awaited me.
"Lets say Friday then," she agreed, the conversation was brief and to the point, setting the stage for what was to come.
The promise of our rendezvous spurred me to show my gratitude, "Yes Miss J, I'll look forward to serving you, thank you," I typed out, my fingers tingling with the anticipation.
"Hopefully you can make me cum again. I need it." Her words were a raw, honest yearning that resonated within me. I was eager to fulfil her needs, and I replied instantly, "I hope I can Miss J. I'm not happy if you're not."
I was wandering through the London Dungeon when I sent her the next message, a teasing thought that crossed my mind. "I'm at London Dungeon, you should never come here, don't want you getting ideas." The playful banter continued, our conversation as charged as the surroundings.
Then came the discussion about the dungeon. I half-jokingly mentioned the idea of having one built for her when I became rich, and the conversation naturally flowed into talk of toys, of enhancing our experience together. It became apparent that our current strap-on was not meeting her expectations. The frustration was evident in her messages, "I hate that thing!! It's so tiny and falls out every bloody second," she lamented.
I acknowledged her need, "You need to be able to fuck me properly Miss J." The conversation revolved around the strap-on, how it made us feel, how it could be a workout for her if only it could maintain a rhythm.
I finally broke the news, "I ordered a new strap-on Miss J, it should be here for Friday."
Her response was immediate, "Oh exciting." The anticipation surged through me, the upcoming Friday suddenly seeming too far. I could hardly wait for our next rendezvous, for the chance to serve her once again, to share in our uniquely intimate moments.
The following Thursday, the eve of our reunion, the anticipation was palpable. "I'm looking forward to tomorrow," she messaged. Her words sent a ripple of anticipation down my spine. And then came her orders. Her instructions were simple and clear, a shopping list of what she wanted: "Fresh Butternut Squash soup, a really nice multi-grain and or whole meal baguette/loaf, and the usual fruit."
Friday arrived like a tidal wave of excitement. The morning was filled with preparation and a slow build-up of tension. She arrived, and we settled into our familiar roles with ease. Our day unfolded slowly: we chatted about jobs and interviews, she reviewed my writing, and sent me out for a jam roly-poly. She had a certain command that made even the most mundane tasks seem filled with anticipation.
Returning from my errand, I felt my excitement rise as I slipped my collar around my neck. The cool leather against my skin was a tangible reminder of my role. Miss J instructed me to put on a movie, and there we sat, she held my leash while we watched, me kneeling at her side while she sat on the bed. It was a strange yet intimate moment that made me feel completely owned. It was a feeling of pure happiness, of submission and servitude.
What followed was a whirlwind of pleasure and pain, a dance of dominance and submission that pushed the boundaries of our intimacy that started out with a foot massage. My hands worked over her feet, the rhythm soothing and intimate. As the massage ended, the intensity began to ramp up. She told me to crawl under the covers, a simple order that set my heart racing. Her jogging bottoms came off, my hands shaking slightly with the anticipation. The air underneath was warm, intimate, laced with the scent of cocoa butter from her skin and the heady aroma of her enticing pussy. It was a perfume that drove my senses wild, a mix that only heightened my yearning for her.
She took control, her firm command rendering me breathless, "Hold your face against me." Her words wrapped around me like a chain, binding me to her will. She didn't allow me to open my mouth, leaving me to breathe her in, to revel in her scent. I was grinding against the bed, a poor substitute for the pleasure I craved. The only sound in the room was my desperate moans and her soft laughter. Each denied plea to taste her only served to fan the flames of my desire.
Her orders didn't cease, "Take off your jeans and pants. Crawl back underneath." Stripped bare, I complied, crawling back to the intoxicating haven beneath the covers. There, she relented, allowed me the intimate pleasure of tasting her. The first touch of my tongue to her sent a jolt of pleasure coursing through me. Her command to grab and squeeze her ass was music to my ears.
She then told me to rise and stand next to the bed. Miss J instructed me to hold my erect cock up against my body, getting it out of the way and giving her full access to my balls. Miss J wielded a spatula, a tool of her dominance. The initial touch of the cool wood against my heated flesh was a shock, a contrast that had my breath hitching. She struck my balls lightly, the shockwaves of pain mingling with pleasure in an intoxicating blend. The increased the force of the smacks with five or six hard blows to the balls that had me doubling over in pain. Her command rang out again, "Let go off your cock," I obeyed, only to feel the sting of Miss J's spatula smacking the hard shaft, the sting spread as she dealt several hard smacks to the sensitive head of my cock.
Next, Miss J said, "Lie on the bed on your back." The words were a summons I couldn't resist. Her next instrument of pleasure was the whip, its touch stinging my back and ass. She whipped me harder than she ever had before. The sharp pain was eclipsed by the pleasure I found in her dominance.
Miss J didn't whip me for long before asking me to turn over. I did as I was told but feared what was about to happen. Miss J brought her whip down on my chest and then my exposed genital. The sensation wasn't too extreme on my chest, or even my cock, but when the leather strap bit into my balls, it was agony. Her reprimands for my involuntary flinching only served to excite me further. I tried not to cry out, but I couldn't help myself. My whines only made Miss J swing the whip harder, inflicting excruciating pain on my balls a few more times, I couldn't help curling up in pain.
The moment came when she took what she wanted. She wielded the new strap-on, luckily starting with the smaller of the two rubber cock attachments, but even still it was bigger than my dick. Being fucked by my owner was a humbling power exchange. I liked that Miss J was only person to have penetrated me anally, I was her's and no one else's.
When she was satisfied that I'd taken enough, Miss J said "It's my turn again now." And instructed me to returned to my place between her legs as she lay back on the bed and pulled the duvet over her. As always, I was in heaven, tasting her, worshipping her. Her climax was powerful, a reward for my service.
After composing herself, Miss J got out of bed and had me crawl further up and lie down. It was dark under the duvet, so it was only when I rested my head on the mattress that I realised that my face was pressed against the evidence of her pleasure. The sheets beneath me were damp and I revelled in it realising that not only had I made Jade cum again, but I'd given her such a powerful orgasm that she squirted.
Miss J left me lying in the wet patch thinking about the intense experience. From the sharp sting of her whip to the unfamiliar sensation of the new strap-on, every moment was a sensory overload. She took her pleasure from me, and I took mine from serving her. When I was allowed to taste her, it was heaven and hell combined - an intoxicating blend of pain, pleasure, and submission.
The culmination of our session was as intense as the build-up. "Because that was so good for me, I'm going to let you wank," she said. At her command, I began to stroke myself while lying on the bedroom floor. My excitement grew when Miss J stood over me. "Keep you mouth close," she said as she lowered herself on to my face. I felt her weight shift and then something hot and wet on the tip of my cock, Miss J had kindly spat on my dick, lubricating the shaft, enhancing the sensation. I enjoyed the new ease at which my hand slid over my erection, upping my intensity in response.
The feeling of Miss J grinding against my mouth, her scent overwhelming my senses, it was ecstasy. Occasionally she smothered me with her wet pussy and curvy ass, making it hard for me to breath, but when I could I deeply inhaled her heavenly scent as I masturbated furiously for my mistress.
Miss J encouraged me as my hand pumped my dick, "You made me cum nicely, now it's your turn." "Stroke it. Cum," she instructed. And then I came, hard, my orgasm ripping through me. The pleasure was unparalleled, the experience of serving her, being under her while wanking, the smell of her ass and pussy, feeling her ass against my face... it was amazing. The best orgasm of my life.
Our session ended, but the lingering feelings didn't. Our post-session exchange was a gentle comedown from the intense high. I thanked her for letting me serve her. "I enjoyed it too," she responded, a simple affirmation that sent a warmth flooding through me. I was content, knowing I had served well, pleased her. It was, in every way, an unforgettable experience.
