#master's pet

[sirsparhawk]

Reality.

I will treat you like My fucktoy - make you cum on command and beg for more. Then hold you like the perfect princess. Because you know you will always want more.

[randommangacaps]

[axsocial]

Open starter (mxm)

— ¡Eh! — Dijo Peter mientras corria detras del otro.— ¡EH! ¿Que significa esto? ¿Que es esta carta? ¿QUIERES PARAR UN MOMENTO? Se me va a salir un maldito pulmón.

[sirsparhawk]

Work time, Master's hypnotic call.

Work time, Master's hypnotic call.

The sound of the whip, thwack, thwack, thwack. The rattle of chains, that single word, “Come.”

Instantly she reached for her phone on the table, knowing Master is calling. She knew already she was blushing, the heat of her skin, the increase in her heart beat, that little buzzing tremble of heated excitement.

Then she pressed the red button and texted the reply as they had arranged. He knew that she couldn't just pic the phone up at work and talk easily. While she could obviously take different calls at work, her responses were just too intense for the office. So quickly she walked down the to courtyard on the pretence of getting a coffee.

He sat in His home office, having just finished with one client and having some extra time He first called His wife for a short conversation about household matters. Then he called the little pet, such a sexy little thing and so responsive! Finally the collaring process complete a few months ago he was beginning to enjoy her in new ways, more playfully, beyond basic behaviours and responses. The girl is learning to respond he thought with a smile.

The text arrived, “meow.”

He put on the hands free headset and dialled.

The answer was very quick, “meow, hello Master.”

His voice echoed and rumbled gently yet with a curious power, the knowledge that He owned this girl, that anything He Commanded she would respond to, “Greetings little pet, snuggles.”

The girls body relaxed, every tension melted away instantly she replied, “purrr. Yes Master.”

“Good girl. I had fun last night and you know I want more.” He chuckled in just that way.

The girl felt the tingle and the reminders of the time they spent last night, as her most timid voice replied, “yes I enjoyed so much too.”

He slipped into story mode, the tones of His voice different, the rhythms and the cadence, the timber and the resonance, “I’m glad you did. As you know there are many more things I want to share with you, to teach you. To open you so that you will always feel that ‘to be honest’ place with Me. It’s not necessary to stand in the confession box or the witness stand because you know you can share everything with Me, like the little kitten curled in My hand, I know you in ways you don’t even know yourself. Just as for many years you wondered about how much you enjoyed these things, the way your body responds when you imagine, or see these images more intensely. As there are many things you will learn from here the first steps you've already taken.”

Pausing and breathing he listened to the change in her breathing, “As you are in many places and many times, like at work or at home, letting your thoughts drift in between moments of concentration, you often find your mind wandering to Me. As your body responds to this in new ways or more familiar ways too. Like in those private times you wanted and longed for the things you yearn for more, then at My feet you find many of these things becoming real. While you shift and remember just how amazing it is to completely open to Me. While we often chat in text on the phone, in that messenger or another, as you often enjoy sending Me those pictures as surprise gifts, then you also enjoy the permission to explore those pleasures on your own too. While you continue to discover the gifts inside dreaming of the ways you know I touch you already.”

The girl listened on, the words merging into images and sensations, a different flow that made sense in a different way, on a different level, “yes Master,” she replied in a dreamy voice.

“So now you remember those moments as I increased the waves and the sensations taking you deeper and thrilling you, keeping you at the ~purple edge~ of your desire, the time ticking, the fuse at the limit, the incredible pressures building, just like that need to touch there now or soon, with one hand or the other, even as that touch brings you deeper into My Power, calling you beckoning you, with like a thirst or the need to breathe, the desire to own that new toy, that new gadget, the need to create, the nature of your own submission calling you to Me more and more strongly. Breathe now out and more deeply in, sense your breath, know your place, feel your collar, sense the fabric on your skin, the elastic of your garments touching your skin, the sensitive smooth skin opening more with every moment, every sunrise, every day just like you know I teach you when we are together. As you sense how incredibly we are connected, already you discover the U/us within this more.”

He listened to her breathing change the increasing hold and breathe, the knowledge that He held her in His most intimate Control then at that perfect moment His Voice Commanded her immediate instant, real response, “CUMMM”

Deep inside her something welled up a spinning heat thrilling and swirling, from that central swollen pinkness, around and around, through her legs again into the swirling then exploding all the way up her spine and into her mind waves and waves. Wanting to scream she had to be silent here, her entire existence consumed in the pleasures more every time.

“Good girl.”

“Thank you Master,” she gasped as another tingling aftershock thrilled her.

[sirsparhawk]

Rope or chains?

With the Master's smile I watch the movements of eyes reading the page and the breath of knowledge in the deepest responses. Which indeed, the choice is that of intention, is it not? The texture of rope upon the skin, knots and ties - artful arrangement of the girl's limbs.

Forged and linked, rattle heavy, shackled tight bound beyond possibility of escape. Light chains wrapped around midriff, down between, up and over, wrists and ankles, throat bound in steel locked. Which one shall it be, today, tonight, for the eternity you wish to serve in the place you were born to be, in the ways all good girls need to please Master.

Rpoe or chains, mind and body - owned and taken, made to discover the inner dream real. When you are here in this way you need to be, in all the ways you desire and dream to be. What else do you discover in ways you never knew possible?

[sirsparhawk]

Winterfest girl - I want you.

Winterfest girl - I want you.

I don’t know what it is about this girl. She’s older than I'm usually attracted to (always legal), while being much younger than I am. There’s a thousand reasons to say, “no.” To walk away and to just get on with life.

Then I see her, that same crush, her smile and her laugh. That curious shy - yet not shy. The bubbly laughter that grin, that almost brattiness ( which I usually hate).

Then you’re there, we spend time together, with others, at dinner, a lift home when you say yes. Then you don’t respond to My messages.

I see you again you smile and you laugh, you come over to find Me, we hold hands in that movement, like a dance.

Everything else aside, “fuck Me, I want you!”

I have your collar ready, I'm going to get you, to capture you.

As you once said, “I'm the type of girl that needs to be captured.” I have your mind, I see your responses, I know you. Yes I sense even those hidden things.

Today we stood and laughed, you, Me one other, then the conversation turned, I saw your frown, something inside, touched, something of hurt hidden.

I see you and you scream vanilla, I mention a spanking, Domination and tell a story about a submissive girl. I see your responses, your smile, your blush and more.

Do you know anything, are you here on this site, do you read these writings?

Say, “No,” and I will walk away.

Anything else and I'm going to pursue you, hunt you, find you, capture you, take you as Mine. I don’t give a damn any more. I want you at My knees, in My collar saying those words, “yes Master.”

As I claim you, “Mine!”

I have taught you much, yet I have with the gentlest breath steered you. As you changed jobs, expanded creativity, learned the new winter skill.

No, I will not touch you without consent, not in that way. I will hug you and hold you and gather you into time, “My friend.”

As you dodge and slip past, then jump into My arms. Bratty? Teasing? Timid? Tentative? I just don’t know yet.

Your collar awaits. As you were the muddy girl today. So I will mess you and take you and make you feel, teach you and shape you, not by My hands carving into your flesh. But by My words opening the doors of your mind, your unconscious responses.

As the wood is carved, as the ice is carved, so I will give you the sharpened tools of mind and thought with which to carve yourself. In this way I will carve you. I will teach you each movement, each different tool, each different process, I will sharpen each one again, as the edges carve figures on the fresh surface.

Come to Me girl, for I will have you, marks, scars, blemishes, every damage done to you, and who you are. I will own you, take you, keep you.

You once said, “do you know me?”

I should have replied, “No I don’t and that’s what I want because I want to always find out something more about you. If I knew you, there would be no more surprises, no more crazy crisis, no more changes in season or weather. There would only be a single day of that same average grey blue median temperature.”

The seasons will change, you will evolve, you will cry and scream, you will tantrum and submit. I will take all this and hold you, in the palm of My hand. Perhaps I will close My fist and squash you, perhaps I will watch you amused.

Perhaps girl I will touch you and say, “Mine.”

It doesn't matter any more.

“I want you.”

Before the time wasn't right, now I would rewind to that moment and take you, claim, you, collar you, own you.

"Come to Me."

[sirsparhawk]

There is more to the collar you need to feel.

There's more to the collar.

So you want to be collared and kept, to belong and to know your place with that deep sense of inner certainty, the sun will rise and one will be owned. The moon will shine as the stars sparkle, and the one will belong.

Just walk into the pet store or the $2 shop, buy the cheapest collar, with a buckle that can fit, “Hey Presto!,” Master can put this on me and …

Wake up and shake off the dream, take a sip of coffee or whatever poison you choose.

Dynamics and connections are born of inspiration and effort, 95% effort and 5% inspiration, that first spark of intense attraction doesn’t light the fire without carefully blowing on the kindling, then taking time to nurture the fire and keep it fed.

Let’s chat, perhaps play, though you know, I want to know you first, nothing that’s going to out you - as always safety is priority. While I want to explore the thoughts and ideas, the stories and the things that light up your being.

“What really makes you sparkle?” He asks the girl sitting across the cafe table.

Tell me your stories, the movies, the books and the characters that appeal to you. The holidays you imagine, the dreams you have in your life. Or tell me you don’t have any, and that’s a curious blank canvas to turn into art.

Every connection is part of that artistic and creative process, some are like architecture and engineering lines on a page, precise, measured, defined in both dimension and material. While others are like charcoal marks on the white surface, vague and blurry, smudged and merged. Then there’s the coloured pain-t splashed and poured spattered and spilled. Beautifully random in the process of creation.

Porcelain striped crimson is always a favourite.

We may wonder at the world of realism, the person and the job, the career and the everyday duties that bind and enslave us to the eternal rat race like a hamster wheel. These are the traps we build for ourselves being part of modern society.

While this white-red-black world on these pages, with the images, stories, videos and people on the other side of the screen, becomes a journey in a different dimension for many. Look slowly at ages for a moment, wonder at what age each profile tripped into this dimension, what stories of their epic journeys would make best sellers. I’m sure more than one would make even more confronting movies too.

So come and play, with your mind, your body and your being, write your story with the amazing characters on these pages, your comments, likes-loves, participation and personal messages are what keep the kinky wheels turning. Though we all know the real kink can only be seen through the eyes of the beholder, so behold and be held, be spanked and feel the impact of every new click into the journey of your most profound and beautiful destruction.

Beware, for you will never see the world the same again!

[sirsparhawk]

Water and Breath (Part1)

Water and Breath (Part 1).

He knew her, it didn’t take long, he didn’t know her all, just enough a few buttons. Though he knew in time, he would discover many more, more than most others. Not all, never all, for always there would be new ones. Sometimes ones even he created.

At first she didn’t like the phone so he sent her recordings, interesting stories or just seemingly random ramblings, the everyday things of his life, like her’s different and curious in that mutual sharing of interest. Those everyday items and activities, the discovery part of knowing the person.

Pictures and videos swapped, ideas and other stories. Slowly he pieced the puzzle together, different things and those things that got that, “WOW! OMG!” response. Her mind, those things open to Him, the first days became months, still they hadn’t met. Soon though… He planned and built, a project of curiosity and deviant creativity. Not the least of which was the opportunity afforded by major house renovations.

The bathroom appeared normal, like any other bathroom, a spa bath, vanity, shower and toilet. What most people didn’t notice was the reinforced loops in the ceiling, just right for hanging plants - or tieing girls to. The handles in the wall, the reinforced towel rails, the convenient height and placement of things. The invisible sound proofing, the invisible secret compartment.

Then the other rooms in the house, other concealed anchors for restraints, the loft and the rooms in the lower level. The back shed, still incomplete, yet with many opportunities that promised more fun.

The pool. Well, there was time to play with that too.

The conversations evolved over time, stories exchanged - shared with others, evolving. Those little secret things that are shared, naturally and unconsciously in developing friendships. Connections like threads of a cable each tiny new thread adding to the strength and the length, the girth of that span.

Living by the beach also afforded other opportunities.

It didn’t take long to build up the possibilities for the scene.

Their personal context began to form patterns; the patterns of comfort and trust, the roller coaster of life and the smooth calm of the still lake. Different waves like seasons and the yacht anchored in the protection of a lee shore. At times the wheel of the rat race stretched reality like a rubber band at the limit, then she found herself on His leash, at His feet; at that Command she floated down, every muscle relaxing, “nadu.”

“yes Master,” the softest reply, her response inside the reality of the unspoken thank you.

While their conversations were often typed something else was occurring, the ability to sense what the other was thinking, to anticipate responses, to shift the path into a new route, then to lead it to the desired destination.

Eventually a work engagement brought her to his city. She knew he would find out, she wanted him to. She craved him to. She feared him to. She needed him to. She knew he would. She knew some part of her would. She sensed all of her would, willingly.

The weeks moved on, she didn’t tell him. Then the travel arrangements were confirmed, the times, the dates, the flights, her accommodation. Minutes away from his usual travel path; he would go right past her, often. They would likely see each other in the street, at lunch or somewhere else. Not certainly, yet with high possibility. Somehow she sensed unconsciously, they would meet. He would find out.

She didn’t want to tell him, yet she knew, the very fact of hiding things from him would reveal something, the gaps in the patterns, the omissions, the shifts of topic. “Damn him,” she muttered to herself with a smile, that loving it-hating it sense of internal conflict, like humiliation at his feet, her heart a glow smooth and shiny at the thought, each beat a comfortable reminder, as she muttered again in those tones, just for him, “yes Master.”

With the very uttering of those tones, the submitting of this to him, the submitting to her own nature, everything seemed so right in that single breath, muscles relaxed, the sense of calm certainty, “yes Master.”

She made the call, predictably he was excited and she caught the excitement, it really didn’t take much, she feared he wouldn’t be excited, yet knew he would. “good girl for telling Master,” hearing those words she swooned again and swore, “damn him and his buttons!” still blushing as the tingles touched her. Then she asked herself, “If I’m like this in text, what is he going to be able to do to me in person.” That delicious shiver of fear-excitement-anticipation crashed through her body like a wave onto the rocks. Breath held involuntarily, unconsciously, she feel that rush, like a drug, like walking from the snow into a heated room in the middle of winter, like feet - then body into the hot bath.

The phone rang and it was her project leader, “can you move up the delivery on the next due diligence report?”

“I’ll need to check into that first,” she responded knowing full well she could, but not wanting her to get things too easily.

A few hours later she rang back, “It’s going to take a few late nights, but I can do it,” she told him in uncertain tones.

“Ok, I’ll make it worth your while, how does a long weekend for your trip sound? I’ll give you a couple of extra days unscheduled while you’re there.”

Her heart raced, the heat between her thighs almost exploded, she stammered, “yes, I might be able to make that work.”

“Would three extra days make it a certainty?”

Pausing for a moment, the excitement overwhelming, holding her breath about to respond.

“Four days?”

A gasp that she hoped sounded like a sigh, then, “yes I can do it for the four extra days.”

The call finished and she let out a spontaneous natural wild primal yell, “yipeeeeeeeeeeee!!!” Body afire laughing and bouncing around her home, “yes Master - four days!!!” she heard herself saying.

Calming down, breathing and sitting at her desk she asked herself, “what the fuck was that? I’ll have to remember that next time I get asked for something urgent.”

The she shook her head in denial, “NO, I’m not that excited. Am I?” The answering heated buzz and tingle answered that.

Her rule was never to give anyone on-line her phone number, she used it for work and had it on all the time, once she had and accidentally sent her location. That ended in disaster, she shuddered at the thought, “Never again.”

So being the resourceful, professional, dutiful subbie, she decided to upgrade her phone and get a prepaid sim for the old one. “It’s Master’s birthday soon,” she justified it to herself, maybe this will please him. Warmly she realised, of all the things he made her do, the things he pushed her to do, this type of limit he respected. Her space, her time, her work, her public life, her personal privacy and things that kept her hidden, safe, anonymous.

The new phone in her hand, the old one now set-up, she messaged him her number. Almost instantly, his response, “good girl, I knew you would when you were ready. This pleases Me well.”

Her thighs trembled, those phrases made her body do things that couldn't be natural. “Fuck,” she said, then the realization hit her, like another wave, “His Voice.” That same quivering anxiety-excitement-overwhelming consumed her, “he will hear me too,” again she felt herself say, as though someone else spoke, “His Voice. His touch.”

Somehow she avoided the phone, he had a rule about calls, text first, get confirmation, he applied the same rule to her.

The plane landed, she turned her phone on, “Landed safely Master,” she texted.

“Good girl, I’m at arrivals.” He replied.

Again panic, then something took over, like automation, an unconscious automation, she collected her luggage and walked through the gate, everything like a dream. Each breath, each movement, she didn’t look around for him as her phone rang. Then a man with red hair stepped up to her, “greetings little snowflake.”

She felt herself slide to her knees head bowed. Thankfully he took her hands and lifted her to walking again, “good girl, you know you are so pleasing.” Still drifting she could only nod and walk forward, like a robot.

The traffic was slow, yet he said it was good traffic for this city. After about an hour of driving and listening to him, sometimes answering with a short, “yes,” or a brief answer, she almost drifted off to sleep, almost or did, she didn’t remember. Though that often happened with Master.

Then he slowed and turned into a drive, one she recognised from his pictures, his home. Something didn’t seem right, yet she was too confused and overwhelmed, yet in this strange place of unusual calm.

“It’s ok my wife is out on a family thing for a few days. We have the place to ourselves.” He reversed the car and turned it around in the driveway.

Suddenly she became aware of the intense pressure in her bladder, “ohh fuck I haven’t peed since home.”

He looked at her in shock, “that’s like all day!”

Her face turned bright red, she felt the pressure, she couldn't move.

He saw her predicament and ran around the car opening the door, she said, “I can’t move, or..” she left it unsaid, she hadn't peed herself since before she went to school. The impossibility of the situation washed away all anxiety as embarrassment and confusion mixed with the urgent desperation of the situation.

The man looked at the girl, somewhere the titles just disappeared, this girl needed help. He didn’t know if this was something she was into or not. It wasn't something he did either. The just taking action he reached in and lifted her out of the car, carrying her over the path to the front door he went to reach for his house key. Realizing he couldn't without putting her down, he said, “I have to put you down to open the door.”

Dropping one hand he held her steady.

The change in pressure too much she felt the flood happen, the tears and the humiliation, just like a schoolgirl in class, something shifted, she was sobbing wet with the scent of pee all over her, stockings and shoes covered in her own liquid. The anxiety she felt consumed her then disappeared as a deep profound release occurred. Kneeling in her own pee, she watched him open the door, adrift in something she didn’t understand, adult-girl-teen she seemed to float somewhere else then she felt the tug into her own senses, the feeling and the scent the relief and the excitement, the joy and the tears, the world expanding into the universe then through all time, then snapping back into completely being herself, every sense alive again, “ohhh, no.” she finally spoke.

He stood watching her, the entire event, “poor girl,” he thought to himself. Gently he lowered himself and just held her, rocking as she processed this.

“It’s OK little pet, Master has you.” Then again he lifted her still dripping form and carried her through the first room into a small en-suite. Sitting her on the open toilet seat he returned to the car and brought her luggage in.

She felt herself being carried and then being seated, she didn’t move the tears still flowing the unreality of this dream, “I just peed myself,” the embarrassment, the shock, the strange memory flooding back, in a classroom on a seat the scent of pee, the puddle, the laughter of the children, the rage on the teacher's face. The fear the root of all her anxiety, “now I know, now he…..” another wave of tears, the scent of pee, “he’ll hate me, he’ll send me away, he’ll…” all her imaginings her fears welled up and crushed her, sobbing broken, empty.

The sound of the front door opening, then him walking in, seeing her, scenting her, knowing what she did. The sound of her bag being put down, then the door closing and a whooshing sound like a hose. Mortified she realised what he was doing.

Then another memory cascaded through her, teenage years, in the classroom, in her uniform, the feeling of bladder full, aching, in the middle of a test, everyone writing, the teacher refusing to let her go to the toilet, the, the, the, “flood,” she heard herself say as again she let go, as the warmth pooled around her, flowed down her legs, under-though her tights in the memory, in reality now.

Another wave of confusion, embarrassment, anxiety, tears, the release of pressure.

He walked in and touched her, still wet, still dirty, he touched her shoulder and put his arms around her, “It’s ok.” He didn’t know what was happening, there was no meaning only the girl and the situation, her responses, her reality, in His care. Yet he sensed, aside from an accident anyone could have at any age, there was something more, something profound happening. He heard her murmurs and whimpers, tears, sobbing. He saw her shudders, and another stream of pee another wave of tears.

Simply he held her rocking her, until she relaxed. Like a child the adult sat there, almost catatonic. The concept of Master was still there, yet on another level the girl was in his care. Here and now she was vulnerable, open to anything or everything he might choose to do. Somewhere He imagined for a moment, taking her, then shook his head, that didn’t seem right, the very thought of doing that in this situation seemed worse than violence.

Leaving her for a moment he went outside again and returned with a plastic chair, this he put in the shower enclosure. Then speaking softly and gently he reassured her as he lifted her from the toilet onto the chair in the shower. Then he stripped the clothes from her and had her naked. Gently He washed her still speaking, “it’s ok little one, everything will be all right, Master has you little snowflake.” Taking his own clothes off he stepped into the shower with her, the first time he met her, the first time they were naked together. His cock throbbed and swelled to a half erection, touching her he felt a thrill and a heated rage.

With a growl deep and menacing, “Who?” He asked, then his voice softening, gently, warm, caressing, “who did this to you snowflake? what happened?” breathing again he realised that wouldn't help her. So he again repeated the words of comfort, “Master has you, it will all be OK.” Holding her onto the chair he reached towards the shower, just out of reach. The girl began to slide to the floor. He needed both hands to keep her semi-conscious on the chair.

Lifting her gently to the floor he let her slide into laying on the ground, he couldn't wash her like that. So leaving her there again he went and grabbed a few lengths of rope. Returning he began by wrapping and tying lengths of rope around her wrists and ankles, then one under her shoulders. Again lifting the smallish woman, his girl, into the chair he tied her in place. Stepping back he smiled and spoke to the disoriented girl, “you know I planned to tie you to the chair like this, but I thought you would be aware, awake attending consciously,not in this state,” sighing and in a confusion of care, pity, rage and that curious place of responsible Dominant.

Then turning the shower on he adjusted the temperature, to a warm without being hot. Gently he washed her first rinsing her, then with soap.

She began to process consciously again feeling the ropes, the first thing she remembered was home, for a moment being in her own shower, then the plane trip, the car, the driveway. Opening her eyes, she first saw the water, then felt it, the ropes and the chair, then Him naked, just like she imagined, “what the fuck?” she said struggling, anger burning like a flame, “how did I get here, what are you doing?”

The shock, the roped the chair, the water, “ohhh,” she moaned as the reality struck her and her pussy and clitty erupted in fire, suddenly all there was was the arousal, the intense urgency, the incredible throbbing, the fear, the emotions. The scent of pee the anxiety, the confusion, the reality, bound, in water, helpless, in His Control, so aroused, so intense, right at the edge, about to explode, needing, craving, His Command, she begged and whimpered, lost inside, “please Master, please Master, may I cum?”

He watched again while he washed her, hosing her like a pet needing a bath, then seeing her eyes open he stepped back, the shower still on her as there wasn't enough room in the enclosure to do anything else. Naked almost touching her, He saw the return of awareness, the opening of her eyes the transition from wonder, confusion, to rage and anger, to intense arousal. He watched careful at this point not to touch her, letting her find her own place, her own sense of reality again.

“Please Master this slut needs to cum, this girl needs release, this girl begs, please Master.”

He listened to her words, just like she typed at times, then here she was, like this. Bemused and amused he spoke with the comfortable certain tones of compelling Command, “CUMMM!!!!!”

“Ahhhhhhhh!” she screamed as her body thrashed, the chair wobbled. He reached out to steady her, seeing her eyes closed as another convulsion ripped through her body, arms and legs trembling, straining against the ropes, twisting the light chair. He leant forward and held the chair in place, keeping her safe, at that moment she opened her eyes and they looked deep together as yet another quake matched her scream again, “ahhhhhhh.” Breathless her breathing stopped as the quaking continued. Then nothing, emptiness claimed her.

He saw her calm, her muscles relax, her breathing start again. He checked carefully, yes convulsions, yet not those of epilepsy, just those of pleasure. Again he rinsed her before a first towel dry, then untied, he held her, drying her again.

Gently he carried her to the nearest bed, not the one he had planned, the one he shared with his wife. Propriety no longer an issue, he slid into bed with her and held her.

Closing his eyes too, he murmured, “little snowflake I only planned dinner for tonight.” Deeply he sighed again sleeping with her in his arms, “of mice and men.” The quotation seemed strange to him in the moment.

She felt the warmth and curled unconscious in his arms, like a new born, helpless. Nothing and everything, his grasp on her reality, her link to everything. She felt herself breathe in a strange place of dreams.

To be continued.