Feast or famine

And the good times keep on cumming.

It is not for me to question what excites my Master, or what feeds his delight in owning and controlling me. I suspect it is a combination of things - arousal from the descriptions of how I touch myself, satisfaction at how he is training and developing his property, and, especially, the beautiful knowledge that my pleasure is all for him.

I feel his eyes on me. As I lie there naked in my bed I feel his eyes on me from 45 minutes away. Sometimes I pull back the covers so he can see me better, even though he is not physically in the room. I pull back the covers and I pass the tip of the middle finger of my right hand back and forth over my clitoris until my insides start to melt and I think of sweet and horrible things.

It is all for him.
In this hiatus from orgasm denial
I am reawakening my womb's convulsions
and the moans and contractions are all for him.

Tonight, again, I will slide in the vibrator, condom-encased for easy clean-up and generously doused with Astro-Glide to protect my aging tissues, and I will suck it, hard, with the muscles of my cunt.

And up the road, in his own bed, he will feel me.
He will feel me squeezing him.
He will feel me sucking him.
He will feel me fucking him.
And he will know that all my pleasure is for him alone.