"...soft tears of fantasies realized,
soft tears for who they are."
As the elevator rose, her eyes could not help but watch the floors
pass by. 22..23...24... And with each passing number, her heartbeat increased until surely her heart would thump out of her chest.
This had been one of the many fantasies she shared with him. She both craved it and feared it, but she trusted him. She trusted her Master to take her places she had never been. Some of the places,
she had never even dreamed of. But this one - this one she had dreamed for years....
He had promised her, her fantasy would be coming true today. And as she continued to watch the numbers increase, she thought of backing out of it. A small part of her wanted to scream, and yet she did not say it. She was enjoying the rush of the fear, within the confines of her trust for him.
As they rode to the tip of the Washington Monument, he whispered softly in her ear. “Are you ready, my sweet?” He reached slowly toward her sex. He knew without touching her that she was indeed very wet *THERE*, but he wanted to add to her excitement.
She blushed deep crimson, as she felt his hand at her sex, feather light touches to her thigh and her legs parted in anticipation. As soon as his fingers connected with her soft skin, he drew his hand away from her, watching with interest the look of lust and desire in her eyes, and he knew, without a doubt, that he would proceed.
As they stepped from the elevator, he guided her with his hand to a window, instructing her to look out to see all the people meandering about. Her knees trembled, her mind raced, as she realized how very high she was and how many people were milling about.
She whispered, “Master, there are so..many....people.” He smiled that wicked little smile that is his way.
It had always been her fantasy to be taken, to be spanked, to be owned at this phallic symbol of the Americas and now that the time drew near, she feared perhaps she could not go through with it.
Her Master spoke clearly but softly into her ear, his breath rushing over the folds and lobes. "My sweet bitch, you are so close to your fantasy. It would be a shame for you to disappoint me now.”
You see, he knew her inside and out. He knew her thoughts almost before she did, as he had taken a great deal of time to know her. He would never bring harm to his possession, but he would push her. Oh yes, he would push!
She shivered with anticipation and a bit of fear. Her thoughts raced in every direction. 'What if the security came? What if people heard his hand on her bottom?"
He gazed around them, sitting so high in the sky, surrounded by the cold stone of the building. His voice deep and soft, 'Open your blouse, dear one, press your breasts to the wall. Do this for your Master.'
She trembled as her fingers fiddled with the buttons. She wanted desperately to look about, to make sure there was no one. And yet, she must trust him. Her blouse fell open, as she leaned into the
stone wall, pressing her firm nipples to the freezing stone. Her
fingers clenched, as the coolness of the stone drove goose bumps
over her body.
Her eyes widened as she watched the people milling about at the base of the building. Her sex grew wetter, her heart pounded. His knee pressed into her bottom, pressing her tighter to the wall. She could feel the plug grinding into her ass, her sex threatened to explode with passion, her nipples stinging as they struggled to press into the wall.
He whispered, "They all know, my sweet one. They know what you are doing with your nipples to the wall dirty girl.”
Struggling to stifle her moan, she pressed back on his knee, wanting so much to feel his pressure on her sex rather than her ass. She closed her eyes, shutting out the world, focusing only on the sensations.
A sudden sound, the sound of footsteps! Her heart about to explode
as she stiffened, fear pushing her to the edge. It seemed like forever until her Master spoke. It was actually only a few seconds until he whispered, "My sweet cunt", and she felt the warm leather encase
She moaned, her voice squeaking, this wasn’t part of the plan - "Master.. Master..", fear drove through her. She felt his gentle touch
on her neck, his tongue slithering over the softest most sensitive part and she was calmed of the fear.
Her knees went weak, she mewed, 'please Master..please can your slave cum?'
He laughed heartily, 'Indeed we have only just begun my baby! It is not near time yet!'
He began to button her blouse, cuffs attached to her wrists, but free to move. Her breaths came in short gasps, as she struggled to control the sensations overtaking her, each movement of her thighs creating a new spark of desire within her. He escorted her toward the elevator, keeping her slightly off balance mentally.
As they entered the elevator, she realized the sky had grown dark with the night sky. The reflection of the city lights cast a romantic glow over the sky. And she ached. She ached for his touch. She ached for release. And she ached to know what he was thinking, but she could not read his face, he showed no signs of his thoughts.
His hand firmly grasped her hair, as he took her mouth, thrusting his tongue deep into the warmth of her lips, dancing and twirling with hers. He took her breath away with a single kiss. Her sex ached with passion and she could feel the growing bulge under his jeans.
He released her face as the elevator doors opened. She gasped as
the cool air swept through her skirt, the wetness of her sex chilling quickly. The moisture that had seeped to her thighs grew goose bumps on her smooth skin.
Guiding her with his finger linked in the D-ring of her left cuff, they moved into the darkness. She caught the vision of a shadow from
the corner of her eye. Her heart thumped, her sex heated again, she felt a surge of adrenalin as fear gripped at her. His hold on her was firm and unrelenting.
She shook as he hooked the cuffs together behind her then unbuttoned her blouse, breasts free to feel the night air, nipples straining, as they tightened into hard buds. He directed her to the bench, pressing her to the back of it, and bending her gently without a word. The lifting of her skirt, allowed her to more directly feel the cool air flowing freely over her moistened lips.
He spoke softly. "Naughty little bitch. Who owns you?"
Her voice barely a whisper for fear of being heard she answered,
"You do Master".
"And what do I own, slut?" his voice growing deeper, and just a
She responded with the only answer she could find at that moment, "You own ‘me’, Master"
He spoke clearly and crisply and a little louder still "What do I own, slut!?'
Her body shook. Her arousal VERY apparent as her hips wiggled involuntarily, her voice squeaking back at him. "You own this slave, you own her cunt, her ass and her mouth Master. You own her body and her heart."
His hand came down softly on her bottom. The sound echoed in her head. She was sure at any moment the authorities would be coming. She grimaced in fear, shutting her eyes tight, as though this could stop the embarrassment of being found. Yet, her hips pressed back, telling him she craved what was coming.
His hand drew back and again landed on her by now cold ass. The resounding *SMACK* echoed for miles, or so she thought. She moaned loudly, losing her thoughts, as his hand landed again. *SMACK*
The slaps came quicker, harder. Her hips pressed back to meet them, her thighs clenching tight, rubbing together, her clit throbbing harshly.
She did not remember when the sensations changed, when the slaps felt different, but they did. And she felt the softness of her Master's cock at her face. Her greedy little mouth opened, before he even said a word, and he thrust deeply into her throat, pumping in and out with the rhythm of the slaps on her ass. Her lips tightened, she moaned and cried on his cock. Tears began streaming down her face, as the emotions released.
His cock throbbed with animalistic need. The muscles contracted as he thrust in, feeling the back of her throat, her lips tight, forming a soft warm pussy for his enjoyment - and her ass burned.
She thrust herself back and forth, seeking both her Master's cock and the warm sensations of the hand striking her ass. Her sex already swollen, throbbed with the pain of unreleased arousal.
His cock spasmed once, then twice before he moaned loudly,
pressing himself deep into her throat, holding her head in his hands, as he came.
Her arms ached, but she did not notice. Her focus was on licking the last of the cum from her Master, for his cum was a gift to her, a gift of love, of passion, and of reward.
His voice was soft and reassuring, "You have done well, my sweet. You are so beautiful in your submission." Her mind barely understood the words, as it was long ago lost to the sensations, the air rushing over her now drenched sex, the warmth of the sting on her ass, the uncomfortable knowledge that her Master's arms were not long enough to have been spanking her.
Her thighs were being pressed open. She stepped wide. Her Master cooed to her as he calmly stroked her hair. She moaned as she felt the invasion. Three fingers thrust suddenly into her dripping opening. She gyrated back on the fingers, no longer caring whom they belonged to, only that they gave her the most incredible sensation.
Her Master whispered, "My good girl, my special slut, my sweet little bitch, cum for me!”
She shuddered, pressed back hard as she impaled herself on the fingers. Her sex sucked them in deep, juices gushing forth. Her eyes rolled back, as her Master pinched her now cold nipples with almost brutal passion.
The spasm began in her belly like a ferocious explosion of need and spread clear to her toes. Her brain dizzy, as she gasped for air, her
sex spasming against the fingers, clenching at them. She cried out a feral moan, growling almost, as the wave of passion rose and fell,
time and again.
And her Master whispered, "Shhhh, let it go my sweet one. Let it all go. Release it to me. Give me what is mine."
This drove her deeper, lost to anything about her, she slumped tiredly against the bench, the fingers still inside her and she cried.
She cried soft tears of release, soft tears of fantasies realized, soft tears for her, for Him, for who they are.
© 2000 indigo
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