Hello to my loves! Please enjoy this special Saturday edition of Frisky Friday!. This one has special meaning, and I hope you find it hot, arousing, and pleasurable.
I’ve always known I was an extremely sexual person. Maybe it was the way my 8th grade teacher watched as my skirt moved up my thighs when I sat on the mat. Maybe it was that my parent’s friend pretended to be my boyfriend all those times he babysat us.
Either way, highly sexualized is what I am, and that characterization never served me so well as when I found myself on the wrong side of the law.
Judge Sexy is what they call him- the girls that couldn’t get away- the ones still in jail.
I am lucky enough to call him by his real name- Max Esky. At least that’s one of the names he has me call him. But only in public, when I’m carrying out my public service sentence in his court room. The rest of the time it’s Daddy, Sir or Master. Those are the times when I’m nearly naked, begging him to hurt me really good. And that’s exactly what he does to me.
But only after I please him exactly the way he likes…exactly the way he has taught me.
This is the story of one of those times.
I have just been left for my evening sentencing duty in Judge Sexy’s- Master’s court room.
Master is in a good mood today, wearing the green tie under his gown. The one that accentuates his sculpted chest muscles, and matches his eyes. He only wears that tie when he’s feeling especially generous, and my heart dances a quick happy jig to see him in it.
Court is finishing up, so I make myself small and busy, hoping to avoid any undue attention. Master doesn’t like for me to be noticed by the patrons of the court. The case being heard today does not require jurors, so I immediately go to the jury box, scrubbing the threadbare carpet on my hands and knees. This is the easiest way to avoid notice while people are in the court room.
I have been quietly rubbing the floor with my dampened cloth, paying particularly close attention to a minute stain, when something forcefully enters me from behind. An involuntary squeal escapes my lips before I can stifle it. Master doesn’t tolerate even the slightest peep from me: any sudden noise can attract unwanted attention, threatening to warn the other authorities of the game Master plays with me.
I am immediately punished for my indiscretion. Master remedies any further noise that might escape by cramming his manhood into my mouth. It fills me all the way to my throat, assuring that I will be obedient and make no further sound.
His fingers, which entered me earlier, causing my outburst, grip me tighter on the inside, before he lifts me up there, and where his manhood is in my mouth- to carry me- like a pig on a spit- into his chambers, where he can have his way with me in privacy.
At our destination, he lays me on my back, sprawled across his desk before removing himself from my mouth, and his fingers from my sex. Standing over me, he looks into my eyes, fixing me with a steely glare that promises more retaliation.
Very quietly, and with a gleaming smile, he says, “You were nearly overheard by my bailiff. I have to punish you now.”
As the words leave his mouth, he uses his manhood to once again invade my mouth, feeding it expertly to the back of my throat. As I gag, he cradles my throat, coaxing me to accept what he has to give.
Eventually, my throat becomes relaxed, as he pumps in and out of me. It’s around this time that I feel his finger tips caressing my nipples into twin, hardened peaks. Before long, my clit is being rubbed in quick tight circles.
When a moan escapes my throat, blocking his downward thrust, he slaps my left breast, admonishing me for forgetting to indulge his cock with the attention it craves. It’s not a painful slap, but it serves to remind me of the duties I am set here to perform for my master.
I suckle him with renewed vigor, pulling his tip as far down my throat as I can manage, wanting him to think of nothing but the pleasure I am giving him. He continues to swirl his fingertips on my sensitized areas, causing me to want cry out. Only fear of his retaliation keeps me in check, and I continue my attention to his shaft, as he continues to assault my intimate places.
Suddenly and without warning, he withdraws all of his utilized appendages from me. I watch him in frightened awe, unsure of what to expect next. He reaches over me, grabbing my thighs, before he spins me around, so that his enormously engorged manhood rests, poised against the entrance to my channel. I watch it, waiting for the delicious burn that signals his entry of me.
As I stare at the space where we will likely very soon join, I can sense that he is watching me.
I fight the temptation to look at his face, as he has detested that in the past. After what feels like an eternity of waiting, he leans forward slightly and cups my chin, turning me to face him.
I resist eye contact, as I have been punished for it in the past, but this time it seems unavoidable. When my gaze ascends to his, I note a strange expression on his face. He seems expectant, which makes me all the more nervous. Unwilling to speak, I hold eye contact, awaiting his instructions.
“You have been a very obedient little defendant, and have served your time,” he whispers.
As he speaks these words, he begins to withdraw from me, and the realization that our game is coming to an end hits me. I move forward in an attempt to cause him to enter me. I am so worked up, ready to be fucked. And now he is pulling back, and telling me its over.
As he pivots back and away from me, I move closer, attempting to remain in contact with him. For a brief moment, I succeed and he is inside me, filling me deliciously. The expression on his face tells me that my success is a surprise to him.
In an effort to subdue me, he gathers my wrists in one hand, pulling me away from him. The fingers of his other hand enter me below.
“Is this what you want?” he asks, as his fingers thrust in and out of me. He’s making heavy eye contact with me as he licks his lips and fingers me.
Because I can’t help it, my hips buck up and down to the rhythm he is creating. I can feel that I am becoming swollen, and in need of release.
“Yes!” I moan, nearly sobbing from the pleasure he is so carelessly doling out.
He stops, watching me, as if considering my outburst, and what to do with me.
After several moments, he moves, guiding me to lie on my stomach, and directing my hands over my head.
In the interim, he stops fingering me long enough to cram my recently discarded panties into my mouth.
Suddenly, and forcefully he enters me, and I realize that the panties were put in place to muffle my moans and screams, as I can no longer control the sounds emanating from me.
Even with the barrier in place, I sound very loud in the cramped chambers.
Master also seems to be uncontrollably loud, crying out while pumping in and out of me. With a final grunt, I orgasm deliciously, while in unison he fills me with his cum.
For several moments, we are seemingly both frozen, each incapable of moving.
Eventually, he withdraws, setting me on my feet, before helping me to replace my clothing. Clothing that is purposefully missing key swatches of cloth at crotch and buttock, so that he can effortlessly punish me as he sees fit.
At first I move mechanically, slowly processing the desire and pleasure I’ve just experienced. Once I am dressed, he finishes his earlier conversation.
“As I was saying, you have completed your sentence.”
He gently, uncharacteristically tucks loose hair behind my ear as he says this, before smoothing my shirt in front.
“Now I must decide what to do with you, Young Miss.”
He looks at me as he says this, as though considering his choices.
I’m at a complete loss as to what those choices might be. As I have nowhere to go, no family that would take me in, and no home or job to speak of, alternatives to the halfway house in which I currently reside seem poor to non-existent.
“Have you anything to say for yourself, Young Miss? Any place…any special person you’re wishing to be with once I release you?”
He seems to study me, hanging on any answer I might give him.
What answer he was looking for, I hadn’t a clue, and the ignorance of that was almost as scary as that lacking of some place to go. I had not the slightest idea where I would go once released, but my gut told me not to say that to him. So I chose to say nothing, and instead awaited his answer, staring at some imagined spec instead. This always seemed to work with him.
The silence stretched for what seemed an eternity, until finally, he answered his own question. “If there’s nowhere else, then you must come with me.”
My heart leapt at his words, and I began to smile, and jump up and down, only to be stopped by his hand on my shoulder.
“I will require the utmost obedience from you, if this is to take place,” he warned. “Or your punishment will be swift and stiff,” he finished.
Little did he know, I looked forward to those punishments.
This is dedicated to my lover.
Harvey, who passed recently. In an untimely manner. His outlook on sex was that most sex that is good is unconventional and taboo. And so much more delicious because of it.
Because as long as it good an consensual, wtf is it considered taboo anymore?