Your fingers grip the doorknob, wet, cold, you have clammy hands. Their quickly freezing in the cold, you know you should have put your gloves on before getting out of the car. Snow flying fast, like light speed in the driveway light. I put my head into the snow, pushing forward toward the house. It was a nice house. Very upper class residence for the ’90’s.
Your knocks at the door have seemed to fall on nothing. Windows black with dark against the snow blindness from the driveway light. Is she home? She said to be here.
You hear what sounds like the lock being unslung? Did you just feel footsteps? (editor’s note: I don’t know about anyone else, but if you knock on doors enough you learn to listen for any noise behind that door.) You can’t be sure. Faint scrapes at best.
You wait. Nothing you can detect. You wait long enough to want to whistle, but the cold is setting in, you should have warn your coat with the hoddie too. Fuck. It’s cold.
You knock again. 3 hard raps. The postman allways rings twice, I think three is the correct number. Let’s em know your there, without being a true cop knock, knuckles, not fist.
As you pull the hood up over your head you hear, “Enter “, loud enough to know it’s a command, yet soft enough to cause you to shiver in anticipation of what lies behind door number one.
You put your cold left hand on the ornate brass handle, ice.
You turn the knob. The cold chill hits you as you push the door open. No lights. Your hand instinctively reaches to you right for the switch. Knowing your moves yiu hear “No.”. Your right hand falls to your side, left still hold the cold brass knob. My God, My God. What have I done you think. You still see your cold breath breath from outside following you in. “Shut the door”.
You do as your Mistress tells you. You know her, and she knows you. Today is your turn, she is running the show.
I step into the room, shutting the door behind me. I turn the deadbolt as means against interruption and await your orders.
“Remove your clothing.”
I begin to pull off my hoodie, cold allready inside my layers. “Do you not address me?”
“I am sorry Mistress, I did not known I was allowed to speak.”
“You fool! You will crawl on your belly like a snake. Dragging your cock against the carpet.”
You bust out laughing. Thats the fucking best you’ve ever heard. ” Crawl on your belly like a snake, Bitch” You hear Mistress giggle too.
I pull off all my clothes and lay down on my belly. My cock, shrunken from the cold with my nut sack in my stomach, barely touches the carpet laying flat on my stomach. I began the crawl. Painstakingingly slow. It fucking hurts. Every movement. Every inch.
Your eye’s began to adjust to the light of the room. The snow and the driveway light show more and more shadows. More begins to shine forth as you slide on your belly toward the sounds of the Mistresses voice.
Your slowly moving forward, feeling the heat coming through the hallway, warming you as you slid along.
As I crawl down the hallway I notice your shadow staying the same size. Almost like I’m walking into the distance. Away from you. And that I hear your breathing. “Slow down” I hear, and than I bumb into the Mistress’s pussy.
First your nose feels it as it slips uoward across your clitoris into your bush. A slight smack befalls my head for the abrupt smashing of nose into vaginal cavity.
” Lick that pussy till I cum” I hear. Fuck, the shivers. Knowing you are pleasing the Mistress for her pleasure to do with. You are the lap dog of sin. Happy to know her voice, her body and her pleasure.
I lick your public hair, getting my understanding of my posistion to yours. I move down , gliding my tongue over your clitoris feeling your spread lips, tasting your grool, down, tongue between your asscheecks.
My neck strains to stick my tongue between your cheeks, to touch your rim, to circle the entrance, to push my tongue against your brown eye. On my elbows, pushing myself up, pulling away from your butt, sliding up the taint, tongue into you slit, entering, feeling your slickness, your body shifting, showing me what you want and where you want. I know the pain that is fast approaching. That somewhere between heat and cold, pain and pleasure. Pain. The cold floor. The angle your head is taking eating out this women is more pain than pleasure. But knowing she is using you for her own pleasure is the pleasure you feel.
“Oh, fuck, oh it feels so good” I hear. The words I want my Mistress to tell me. Correct me when I am wrong, but tell me when I am wrong. “I’m going to cum. I need to cum”, she says. Sultry voice, oh that voice. To make her cum. That has been my pleasure.
I ride through the wave of her orgasm, feeling mine as I feel her body tight. I lap her. I am her dog.
I know my Mistress is through with me when I’m pushed away from her vagina, pulsating.