~ erotica ~

“I missed you.”

“I missed you too, Sir.”

She kept her eyes downcast, but let the beginning of a smile creep to the edges of her lips.

It had been far too long since a slut had seen her Sir. Too long since she’d smelled the earthy wonderful of his scent, felt the soft touch of his hand. Too long since she’d been his not just in mind and soul but in body. Her sex throbbed even during this, their small reconnection ritual.

Her Sir traced the line of her face, looking down on his obedient little slut who knelt on a pillow by his boots. His slut lived for this moment when her Sir was away. The subtle touch of his fingers imbued her with a sense of love she had not felt anywhere else before. She closed her eyes and leaned into the gesture of affection.

Her Sir’s hand stopped at her chin, raised her head up.

“A slut will look at me.”

His slut opened her eyes, resting on his gaze.

“I don’t know if I believe a slut when she says she missed her Sir.”

“But a slut did, Sir. She called, and wrote, and thought about you each time she wanted to touch herself.”

“And did she touch herself?”

“No, Sir. Your slut was a good girl, Sir. She cried from missing you.”

“From wanting to be fucked by me.”

“Yes, Sir. I mean no, Sir. I mean both, Sir. Your slut missed you in many ways, Sir.”

“Really? Name them.”

His slut tried to look away, reaching into the recesses of her mind.

“Eyes up, slut. Don’t stop looking at me.”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Now, in what ways did a slut miss me?”

His slut bit her lip in a way that secretly pleased her Sir.

“Every night when a slut called her Sir, and Sir said sweet things into her ear before bed, a slut missed having her Sir beside her, so that she could feel the breath of his voice on her neck as he spoke because Sir would normally says these things at night while next to her.

“And a slut missed Sir’s smell. At night, when her Sir is home, a slut curls up into Sir’s arms and she falls asleep to the smell of him.

“And I slut missed being used by her Sir. Always before bed, yes, but also knowing, while he was away, Sir would never show up to her work during her lunch break, or ask a slut to come by his job. A slut even missed the back alley at her Sir’s office, even though a slut hates the smell and always fears being seen, because that back alley is where Sir seems to most like using his slut.”

“Hmm, it sounds like a slut really did miss her Sir.”

“Yes, Sir. A slut really did, Sir.”

“Does a slut wish to be used tonight?”

She felt heat rise to her cheeks. Her heart fluttered. The ache in her sex grew worse.

“If her Sir would be so kind as to allow it, a slut has longed for some time to be used by her Sir.”

Categorised as: Erotica

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