Kaitlyn

As soon as she was settled in her chair waiting for the boot up to finish, she reached behind to free her breasts from the daily bondage of her bra.  Ah!  Much better.  Why was it so impossible to find a comfy bra?  She had a small moment of envy for those tiny women that could actually run around without one as well as for those women who didn't have that dreaded bit of hang over at the sides.  She shrugged, not one to wallow.  She was as she was and if the worst part of her day was a crummy bra, so be it.  She slipped the bra out from under her silky blouse, letting the fabric brush over her skin.  She looked at her reflection in the glass monitor.  Ordinary.  Plain and ordinary.  Round beach ball face.  Mousy brown bobbed hair.  Mousy brown eyes.  Fair skin.  Ordinary.  Sigh.

With only two minutes to spare, she was in and ready to enter the internet channel and meet her Master.

aria{TwK} entered the tavern, crossing the floor and slipping to her knees before him.  She spread her naked thighs and laid her hands on them, casting her eyes to the floor before him.  Your girl is here, Master. 

She sighed, if only that could be happening in real life she thought.  It was easy to type it and transport herself there in her head, but oh how she wished it could really be happening.  Maybe someday.  Her Master was now talking to her in private chat, the artificial customs of the tavern background of their chat channel no longer necessary. 

>Did you get lunch today girl?
>Not really, just a snack, Master.
>Do you have something now?
>Yes Master.
>Good, take your blouse off, sit there with just your skirt and nylons on and eat it.  Tell me when you're done.
>Yes Master.

She peeled her blouse off, naked to her waist, breasts hanging loose in front of her and ate her sandwich, watching the screen rolling in the main channel.  Another girl was doing an erotic dance, typing paragraph after paragraph of text to the group, describing her writhing limbs and burning heat.  Kaitlyn's Master and some of the other men in the room continued a conversation they were having about football under the guise of the medieval tavern setting.  Others occasionally responded to the dance.  Kaitlyn wondered if the girl doing the dance was actually typing it all as it appeared or if she was cutting and pasting in segments from something she prepared earlier.  Cutting and pasting was cheating, but then some of the posters typed so slowly and spelled so poorly, it really was preferable for long passages for public consumption. She finished up and let her Master know she was done.  He was still heavily engaged in the football discussion that was thinly cloaked as a battle between warring factions.  He did pop over to her private screen long enough to tell her to get her nipple clamps out and attach them.  Dutifully, she pulled them from the desk drawer where she kept them handy.  She steeled herself, sucked in her breath, then applied the pinch herself, first to the right one, then to the left.  The pain coursed through her then slowly settled into a place that was bearable and after a few minutes would become erotic.  She notified him that she had accomplished the task, aware that she'd probably have to wait for some time for him to give her the next instruction. 

She couldn't explain what turned her on so about the pinch of the clips.  And she had to admit that the interactive element of the online chat was more real than just reading one of her many smutty books, but she'd had the niggling feeling for a few weeks now that there was something else still missing.   Would she ever find the right man to take her in hand? She wondered.  Was that ever going to be in the cards for her?  She knew it did happen to some girls, she just didn't know if it would ever happen to her. 

Her Master was back now, telling her to slip down her nylons and finger herself under her suit skirt.  She did so, working hard to put herself in the moment and push all the errant thoughts from her day.  She felt the warmth of her folds, the wetness between her legs, slipping a finger in, rubbing another against her clit.  He would know she wasn't in a position to type responses at this point, so instead he fired instructions to her screen.  As directed, she pulled the dildo from the drawer and spread her legs apart, feeling her skirt hike up as she did so.  She slipped it in, feeling it fill her, once again pushing away the thought that it was a shame it wasn't a real man thrusting into her, using her at his will.  Now he told her to use the vibe from her drawer directly on her clit, rubbing it against her hot, wet skin until she climaxed in her chair.  She closed her eyes, picturing herself in the medieval tavern, kneeling at the feet of the tall dark Master, having him grab her and throw her over something then take her, hot and hard.  Thrusting, pulsing, climbing, yes, yes!  There it was, she was at her own climax, coming at the touch of the vibrator, clamping down on the dildo inside her, panting and heaving with the effort. 

 

© 2011 André Santhomas