Designated Slut

It’s Prom Night in my house, and I’m up trying to help my daughter live, for god’s sake (read: have the fun she wants to experience), and yet keep hubby from losing it. So when he finally goes to sleep and daughter has left for some fun, I sneak a peek at Skype.

What makes me look, I don’t know. I haven’t checked all day. When I’m freaking because He’s not talking to me, I check frantically every few minutes. Lately…I haven’t. Not sure about that either.  It’s not like me at all.

I sit with my phone, click on Skype–“Well?” is what I see. Did He just write that? Right now? I check the date. Nope. I’m not seeing things. He’s writing to me right now? I JUST checked in!

“Hi”, I say and I swear I’m still checking the date and I’m feeling truly off balance.

“How did you know”? I asked in earnest.

“I always know”, He writes and I’m shaking my head, somewhere in between laughing and crying but silently, because hubby’s starting to wake. I can’t let him see me texting this late or the bullshit starts: ‘who ya textin’, ‘why ya hidin’ shit’ and all the other paranoid schitzo shit.

“Are you gonna make my cock hard”? He quips. And I stall with saying I always hope so. I’m frozen and caught between having felt like I was staying away. I was done for a while. Then why the FUCK did I check in?? REALLY?!

I take the camera and show Him my tits enclosed in my sheer lace bra. I feel weird and awkward. I’m scared He’ll sense that, but I take another with my strap down.

“Pull the other strap down”, He commands, and I panic and head downstairs two levels to avoid hubby. I do as I’m told, and I do it without thinking or feeling. I just listen.

The next shot my nipple is sticking out and He writes “more”.  So I pull both nipples out of the bra and my breathing is getting heavy, but I’m still in panic mode. Daughter’s friends are popping in and dropping off things. I head back upstairs and wonder what the fuck I’m doing. All I know…is I feel Him. I have to listen. I just have to trust He found me right now…in this chaos…for a reason.  And all I have to do…is fucking listen. Don’t think. Just. Listen.

“Now make your nipples hard and swollen”, His words again command. In the bathroom now, I take a video. I squeeze my nipples, pulling them, hurting them–for His pleasure. I swear I can feel that when I do it. Besides the pain, I’m aware of feeling nothing else but fear and some confusion. Yet I continue torturing my nipples so they do actually get red and swollen.

“More”, He says and I listen. This time I zoom out and drink down a huge gulp of ale to calm my nerves in almost a “fuck it” kind of gesture.

“Very nice. Thats what it feels like to be my slut”, He says.

I read the words, and I’m just still. I realize at that moment how much I fucking live for moments like this with Him. I’m shaking and scared, trying not to get caught in the bathroom pinching my nipples while I’m holding my phone.

Hubby comes out of the bedroom and luckily I’m in the living room in time to say I’ll handle the kids when they get back. I’ll be the designated awake parent, I say, and that seems to lull him into a false sense of security. Meanwhile, the whole time I’m talking to hubby, I’m thinking about what He just said to me. ‘My slut’ feels so amazingly right and, like, exactly where I should be. Just that.

Hubby goes back to sleep, and I quickly check if He is still there. Within seconds…”Fuck your pussy with the beer bottle” pops up on the screen.

As if someone pushed me into the bathroom, I’m instantly up, beer bottle in hand, videoing myself sliding my panties over with one hand and plowing the beer bottle into my pussy, as told. In and out, hearing the suction making a pulling sound…and I’m feeling it. Intensely so. I can feel my pussy get wet around the bottle and the cold smooth glass fucking me. I slowly drag it out of my cunt and raise the bottle to my lips. I lick the bottle and drink some of the liquid, which now tastes like my pussy with the warm glass stroking my lips.

“You are such a hot fuckin whore”, Sir says. Yes, that’s who He is. Right now, no thought, I’m just His. Whatever name He chooses.

“Like makin my cock hard don’t you?”, He writes and I just answer simply ‘yes Sir very much’.

“Good. Cause I like it being hard for you”, Sir says.

That made me cry. He never says ‘for you’.  It doesn’t seem like much, but it was. His cock may get hard but it’s because I’m just a slut performing for Him. It’s just my job and most of the time He doesn’t express it has much to do with me.

I’m not able to say any more because hubby interrupts again and more kids. But I’m spinning inside. I’m just dealing with this life around me, but I’m feeling it hotter now. There are some things He understands about me that I share in private with Him. I know He knows where I’m at. What I’m feeling. How did He know? I hadn’t looked all day. When I say He got skillz…I’m not kidding.

Young Doms, don’t even bother trying to do what He does. Not possible. They only made one of Him. Trust me on this.

 

 

 

 

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