Come…for Me

Of course, there was no one in her hometown she could relate to, let alone her few friends. So she bottled up all her urges and feelings during the day and, at night, alone in her apartment, she suffered the anguish of yearning.

There were occasional times when the frustration boiled over into anger. There were other times when she cried. And there were many times, she simply sat on her couch and stared straight ahead, seeing nothing.

In desperation, when it got too much to resist, she would seek out the like-minded on the Internet, shrugging her shoulders and consoling herself that maybe there she’d find what she so wanted and needed. The chat rooms were fun, for a little time, and eventually she even tried out Second Life and its bizarre “stick figure sex” as she called it. But in the end, it never really gave her that much pleasure.

The problem was she needed to release her wantings, all of them, spiritual, mental, emotional, and, of course, physical. She really had exhausted all the options, so she felt. She’d bought a few nice leather restraints and a collar, a few sex toys, but she couldn’t get into masturbating without a real person commanding her what to do. And most of all, she felt empty doing “it” to herself unless she knew, for sure, that someone else was getting pleasure from it, too.

She knew about cyber and phone sex. Shyly, she’d logged in to a few of the cam-sites, but that was empty, too. Just guys jerking their cocks off and wanting her to talk dirty to them. It didn’t satisfy her, so she soon dropped off those websites.

One night, frustrated as always, and trying to stir up some feelings by looking at dominant-submissive porn which somehow was pixilating oddly, she received an online message from someone she didn’t know.

“Hi, I’m the sysop. You seem to be having some problems with receiving the images. I’ll adjust them for you.”

Shocked at first, she almost logged off. Oh, my god, she thought, a stranger knows I’m looking at this stuff. She took a deep breath and calmed herself a little before typing in the little message window. “It’s okay. I was just leaving anyway.”

“I want you to stay,” the sysop replied. “You picked some of my favorite images to look at, you know. They’re beautiful, aren’t they?”

“Yes,” she typed before she realized what she was doing.

“You’re a submissive yourself, aren’t you?”

She gasped. How could he even guess that? Again, her mind whirling, she typed in “Yes” and then with a shy smile added “Sir”.

“Good,” he replied. “Just a moment. Type in this URL. It’s a special photograph just for us to share right now.”

Her heart started beating faster and she didn’t want to get creeped out, but she typed in the web address.

The picture showed a woman in shadows, kneeling on a carpet, a collar around her neck, hands behind her back.

“That’s you,” came the message. “Isn’t it?”

She hesitated a moment, but as she looked at the picture closer, her fingers automatically typed “Yes, Sir.”

“Good,” he repeated.

As she continued to stare at the picture, it dissolved into a similar one, but now a dark man stood behind the kneeling woman.

“That’s me,” he typed.

Again, the photograph dissolved into a third. One of the man’s hands gripped the woman’s hair tightly, pulling her head back slightly while his other hand dropped to cup her left breast.

She trembled before her computer screen, closing her eyes for a moment and – not so surprising — felt her own nipples grow more sensitive and erect.

“I want you…” he typed in the message box. “…to keep watching.”

The feelings inside her swirled. She wanted to close the screen, log off, throw herself on her bed and cry, but at the same time, she wanted to follow his directions, to keep looking at what he was showing her. As she dithered what to do, the photograph in front of her dissolved again into another picture.

The man in the picture was now liking the kneeling woman’s naked shoulder, the hand on her breast had slid downward and now cupped her bare pussy, his thumb obviously rubbing her clitoris.

She couldn’t help herself. She just couldn’t and felt her own hand sliding between her parted thighs. A soft moan came from between her lips.

“I want you…like this,” he’d typed in the message box.

Her fingers shaking, with one hand she typed “I…want…” She moved her free hand up and down, feeling the hot wetness of herself, both shocked and tingling. This was crazy, but it felt so good right now.

Again, the picture dissolved into another and another in rapid succession. A close up of the man’s thumb on the kneeling woman’s clit, then the tumb still there, two curled fingers between her pussy lips.

“I want you…” repeated his message. “…like this.”

She groaned, slipping two fingers inside her pussy, curling them up and massaging just behind her clit. Her own thumb was rolling over her swollen clit.

“I want you…to move your fingers faster,” he typed, “but keep the touch on your clit gentle and light.”

Her hand slid from pinching a nipple and she replied, “Yes, Sir.” Then she returned to rubbing her breasts while her other hand caressed her pussy and clit.

“I want you…” he repeated typing. “…to come for me.”

Her body began trembling from head to toes, she felt the build-up and as she kept fingering herself, she shook violently and rushed over the top of the abyss and felt the orgasm take her.

She was breathing in gasps and then slowly, so slowly, she felt herself calming down a little. Her hand, still sticky, settled over the keyboard. “Oh, Sir,” she typed.

“Good,” he replied. “I’ll expect you tomorrow night. I have other pictures. Tomorrow night, same time, yes?”

She shivered. Her fingers sought the keys again. “Yes, Sir.”

END

Share this: Twitter

Facebook

Like this: Like Loading... Related