She was waiting for me when I got home. Waiting with eager anticipation, focused on my arrival, yearning to be together, needing to serve and please me. That is almost daily the case, and while I do not take her devotion for granted, it is no surprise.
She was waiting in our bedroom. Lying on the bed with the covers turned down. Naked except for a pair of black ankle-strap spike-heel sandals. Not quite such an everyday occurrence, but not at all unusual. Her body is mine; using her is among my chief delights. Presenting herself to me for my pleasure is her imperative.
Her legs were widespread and her hips angled to give me a direct, open, explicit view of her pussy. Not just naked and available, she was posed to emphasize her sensuality, her availability, her hunger. Not usual at all, as she is somewhat shy at heart. I have to order her to display herself so explicitly, and am rewarded by her blushes when she obeys.
And she was masturbating. Because she is not allowed to cum without permission, because she orgasms quickly and easily from any stimulation, and because I had just arrived home, that was quite unusual indeed. Teasing herself, essentially; risking the harsh consequences of an unauthorized orgasm… I had observed that only rarely.
But she wasn’t using her fingers. She was rubbing her open, wet, glistening quim with the business end of a twelve-inch spanking strap; the handle hung free as she used both hands to press the leather against her clit, sliding the strap in slow circles across her lips, lubricated by her cunt-honey. That was something I had never seen before.
As I began to remove my clothes, I watched my belovèd, who was watching me as she frigged herself with the tawse. I wondered what, exactly, she was waiting for.
— Frenulum
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