Back Again

It'd been a month. I'd had some vanilla sex, and even some vanilla sex with my usual play partner, but it had been a month since we'd gotten to break out to the toys and return to my eyehook festooned bedroom.
Oh, children, it was so good.
Nothing gets ya going like having two entire hours of your time requested days in advance. You've got the knowledge of something, and you don't know what, just sitting back there in your mind. Every time I looked at him it'd resurface... 2 hours, Monday night.
I dressed (well, undressed) for him, in a lacy deep red bra and my long black silk robe.
Nothing but nothing makes me feel so wonderful as the way my Master looks at me, the things he says to me. He makes me feel so beautiful, and I want to look down and examine myself through his eyes, but he has told me not to move, so I stand there, with my legs apart and my hands clasped behind my head and his hands all over my body, and I keep my eyes forward.
Such. Sweet. Torture.
We decided, while we were apart, to up the lashings we gave eachother. We used to dole out punishment in one lash, or two, and it was always sort of anticlimacting. Last night, for breaking when he told me not to move, for throwing my arms around his neck and kissing him because I couldn't stand it anymore, I recieved twenty hard lashes, and I counted every one.
I felt strong.
And as a result of feeling strong, I fought him for maybe the first time ever. He had to wrestle me down. Of course, he had my wrists restrained, so there wasn't actually much I could do, but I twisted and I writhed and I bit him when he came close enough. He wound up adopting cunilingus as a battle tactic. He was trying to tie my ankles up, and whenever I made it too difficult he licked my pussy until I had calmed down some (well, changed from angry writhing to bucking into his mouth.)
It was lovely.
He melted two entire cubes of ice on my body, running them up and down my thighs, between my legs, over my breasts so that my nipples hardened, and he threatened to go through the rest of the try, and I believed him. I was reduced to begging, to shouting "No!", to trying to make him counter offers, but my body was hot and cold all at once and all I could manage to come up with was "I'll suck you off!".
Then, after the ice, there was the ring gag. I like the ring gag, in everything but it's sloppiness. It's a fabulous thing, to have one's mouth held open... there's nothing I've done yet that has hightened the feeling of being possessed as much as that. It wasn't my choice. He could lower my head to his crotch and put his cock in my mouth, push it all the way back to back of my throat and fuck that open orifice he had created, and there was nothing I could do.
The problem is that one's lips keep one's saliva inside one's mouth, and with a ring between my teeth and my lips unable to close, the saliva really went wherever it wanted. My arms were pinned, at that point, too, so I wasn't free to wipe the spit away. I think that might solve the problem. I'll keep you posted.
(It's also worth it to note that this particular ring gag is really lovely, having been hand crafted by my ever-so-talented partner. Ain't I a lucky girl?)
So, ring gagged and prostrate, my Master took me from behind, and I had one hand covering my mouth too keep sound and spittle in, my face ground into the sheets, and his voice in my ears. He talks to me. He tells me that everything I'm doing I'm doing because it's what he wants. He describes how I look, how it feels, and my total lack of control.
This is perhaps the hottest thing that has ever occurred on the face of the planet, ever.
And it was good, and we rolled off of eachother hot and happy, and he removed my gag and called me Lover, and grabbed me the dietcoke from the fridge. He takes care of me.
And we cuddled, but somehow, stupidly, wound up talking about ex-girlfriends of his, and I said let's not, and he said, we could go again...
And we did.
I love it when we do that, when there's actually time. No morning obligations, so we aren't screwing ourselves over figuratively, as well as literally.
That second time was hot, it was heavy, it was the sort of sex you always want, kissing like you'll die if you don't get another, rubbing and touching like you're addicted to eachother's bodies, and I wanted nothing but to have him inside me again.
I turned around and had him take me from behind, again. It's his favorite, and I don't half mind it, and I think I really missed it. This is not saying that it's the only way I ever want to be screwed again, but it was what I wanted last night, and I got it.
Good sex. Really, Really good sex.

And I will get you back, Pet. You've got thirty lashes coming and I can bet you'll be earning more.
Oh yes. I will take my time with you.