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This is a true story of how I became Emma’s Master. Not such a strange course of events you may think, but, I can assure you this is not a normal relationship. Sometimes, two people in a relationship fall into the Master and Slave scenario while experimenting sexually, such as role playing. One partner being dominant over the other, issuing playful words like, “bend over slut and take it like a good little girl,” but Emma and I are not married. Again, you could say that there is nothing strange about that, after all, how many single people actually get together because of a common need in their lives, by attending clubs and venues on themes of Fetishism and BDSM. However, we’re not even in a relationship. We don’t have sex with each other at all. Emma lives in her world, which is about two hundred miles away from mine. I have a family and wife and she also has children and a husband. Unfortunately for Emma, she has a husband that doesn’t exactly take care of her needs on a regular basis. We have never seen each other in the flesh. We live two separate lives, yet online, in our little world, we have a common link with each other, a common need. Recently, this has spilled over to our actual, real lives. It’s a bit like two areas of the brain sending out nerve tendrils to try and communicate. One part of the brain is in real mode, and the other is a virtual playground. Slowly, the nerve endings start to find each other, only touching at first, before they start to twist and turn together; pulling the real word into the virtual one, or vice versa. That’s how it all started. I met Emma online, we used to exchange emails describing our needs and wants. This went on for quite a while until we exchanged phone numbers and started texting. Slowly, the real word started to feel the impact of what we talked about online. We had to be careful, covert, and hide our secret as much as we could. We almanbahis have come a long way since then. Emma is a self-confessed slut. She loves sex and it would be fair to say that she doesn’t get enough of it. I suppose it started when she planted the thought in my head that I should be her Master. It came about one evening when she told me that she went onto a BDSM website and met someone from it. I quickly looked it up and found it intriguing. I swear, if we were a couple, we would be on that forum site having a lot of fun together. But we’re not. All I have, is the ability to tease her. I think I upset her one night when I told her, through a chat window, that I didn’t think she was doing what I told her to do. She took that to mean that I was not serious about commanding her or being her Master. That all changed when I told her, that from the following Monday, she was not allowed to have an orgasm unless I told her she could. I told her that she could masturbate, which she did quite often in the comfort of her bath, but she was not allowed to come while masturbating. I told Emma that I was serious and no matter what time of day it was, she had to text me to get permission to bring herself off. Emma agreed but I wondered whether she would. Knowing my luck it would be the week she decided to take off, from masturbating that is. I never heard from her on Monday. We spoke online and had exchanged an email or two, but there was no urgent text message from her. Emma wasn’t pleading on her mobile to me, to let her come on her fingers, dildo or vibrator. I had a text from her at lunchtime on Tuesday. “I’m fucking horny.” It certainly brought a smile to my face. “Why is that?” I replied. “I masturbated last night and I didn’t come. I really wanted to – badly!” “Good, I’m glad you’re listening to me, as you should of course.” A smiley character was returned from her, and I left the almanbahis yeni giriş texts as they were. In the evening I was on our favourite site, the one with all the dirty stories, where we can message each other and send those, all important, emails. A message box appeared on my screen. “Can I come, please?” I thought about it for a while. I pictured her, in her bath, furiously masturbating. I wondered how many fingers she had pushed up her pussy, or whether it was her glass dildo filling her while her fingers slowly circled her clit. She had obviously stopped with one hand in order to send the text; unless of course, she used voice recognition. A smile crept over my face as I bit the edge of my lip. It fascinated me to think of her poised and ready to come on my words. I figured she would be looking at her device, watching and waiting for that all important “OK” back from me. “Please, may I come, Sir?” That brought a bigger smile to my face. Now she was getting desperate. I liked that, but to pressure me to give her the go ahead was not the action of a true submissive. A lesson needed to be taught here. I shot a number of questions back to her, “Why? What are you doing? Where are you?” “In the bath, at home, masturbating, please, I need to come.” “What’s giving you the need to come?” I asked. “Reading a really horny story,” replied Emma. I laughed at that, “What’s it about?” I asked. “It’s about a woman that gets fucked by a stranger in a park. It’s really horny.” I watched the screen for some time. It must have seemed like ages for Emma, but for me, it was about twenty seconds or so. “It’s not one of my stories, then?” I asked her. Knowing full well it was not. I realised the sentence that would come next after I typed those words. There was no response from the other side of the internet. I guessed Emma had realised it too, but I put her out of her misery just almanbahis giriş in case. “You mustn’t come. I forbid it.” I watched the screen and saw no activity. There was no pleading with me, no retort at all. A message finally arrived about thirty seconds later, “Thank you for letting me know. I’m sorry, I will be more thoughtful next time.” I wanted to say ‘thank you’ back to her, but that would not have been right. It would have been out of character, to even allow her to find out, that I almost felt sorry for her, for the predicament she had put herself in. “Good. Now, go back to your masturbating, and if I find out that you pushed yourself over the top, there will be consequences. Do I make myself clear?” “Yes, Master,” replied Emma. “Oh! And you may stop masturbating in ten minutes if you like.” It was only fair to give her a timeout, a limit, so to speak. “Thank you, Master,” came her reply. We never spoke for the rest of the evening. The following day we started by texting each other. I never asked her whether she obeyed me or not, and she never offered any further comment on the evening before. I decided to tease her by suggesting naughty things for her to do. She did go into the toilet, at work, and send me a picture of her tits and bra from her mobile phone. She did tell me that she had slipped a finger up her pussy while at her desk, and then sucked her finger into her mouth. I told her how nice that must have tasted and she agreed with me. I knew that Emma would leave work at around four in the afternoon. I left my work shortly after. It was eight thirty in the evening when I got a text from her. It was along the same lines as the day before. “Can I come? Please.” This time I messaged her back from the phone. The same sort of response as previously, “What are you reading?” I asked. “A horny story called Isabel’s Slave,” she told me. I grinned and nodded to myself. “That’s one of mine,” I replied. “Yes, may I come, Master?” I thought about it for a while. “How close are you?” I asked. “Pretty close,” was Emma’s reply. “What are you using?” “My vibrator, on slow, just the flick of a button and I will come.
Ben Esra telefonda seni boşaltmamı ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32