Thoughts and fantasies of a submissive

Popped round to see Miss the other night, and we were just lazing about on the sofa, my legs draped over her crotch available to her wandering hand. I'd been wearing a cock ring to keep foreskin back during the day and do a bit of tenderising as i wandered about during the day. She found it and just lightly dragged her fingers over the head, through my trousers, scraping the head softly as it swelled and i moaned. Her music was on, another weird sample of Rutger Hauer's death speech on the middle (about every other track on her collection samples it). Then it went a tempo as the Italian would say and she just pinched the head between her fingers and pumped away to keep time. It was fast and slightly rough,  and heavenly. A shame a map argument developed and she had to slope off to check a fact I'd already proved. Come back Miss, the knoblet misses you! But that part of the evening had sadly passed. 

But the day must be faced and we prepare to face it together. It's a longish walk to the station we use to go to London and a pleasant day for it. We walk and talk and she occasionally lets her hand fondle my bottom. I love being felt up but have a horror of being seen or offending people. She just doesn't give a f**k. As she says, when will you see these people again? A fair point but i can't cope and so I'm forever begging her to quit it. But wishing she'd do it more obviously. We get to town and enjoy a lovely breakfast - well mine was lovely her eggs overdone and salmon scrimped. The market yields its usual bounties and before long we're heading back to hers on the train. She carries nothing and i carry all - a back pack and two shopping bags wrapped around my wrists. I sometimes lead in hopes she'll take advantages. Sometimes i follow, watching her bottom and thinking on when i will kiss it again. The weight of the shopping bags leave marks on my wris

Nothing lasts forever and i think the thoroughness of my rub down has tuckered out my Miss. So we head to bed, via the usual domestic pit stops, and to the big bed. She puts me in my leather bondage mittens and buckles firmly. I can get out if i need to, but won't and with my skinny arms free to move and shift I'll sleep pretty well. She lies into me, back to me as little spoon and my aforementioned skinny arms hug her tight, my face held back from the tickling strands of her hair. We fall asleep, the warmth of my knoblet pressed to her back. Later she'll wake. Return to her bed, to sleep more easily in it. I wake at various times too. Weird dreams so often not about kinkery, but just the usual anxieties. She returns early morning, a call of "Knoblet! Wake up Knoblet!" I wish she didn't. It's early and neighbours might hear, for one. For two- i would rather be woken by her hand on my knoblet. Transferring to consciousness dazed, confused, not kno

I rarely finish anything so will try to buck my trend and complete this. It's only a day after all and for much of it i was asleep... So after the bath we paused for some food, various comestibles from a middle class retailer of note in this country. I was just naked and chilled out and sat next to her on the sofa as her feathered friend (fiend shurely) flapped about and nipped at her food from various vantage points. He's like a little Woodstock so he is. After clearing away the meal, we headed upstairs. Miss climbed over me on the bed, teased me very briefly and then leaned into my face and said 'Miss time'. So she lay down and i reached for the nearby bottle of lotion and gave her the best body rub down i can, front and back and from toes to neck. This is, i hope, about as much fun as she can have with her pants on though they shift slightly so i can do her 'lower back' properly. Kiss it too. It's a slow process, methodical and relaxing, pretty su

After the greeting in the doorway, the bath was a lovely chill out for me, though i wasn't actually dirty as had washed earlier. In the off season a bath is a great ritual, part cleansing of the dirt of the day, part shaving away of stubble to prepare for stockings and suspenders, part long soak to relax and part a conversational interlude with a friend. I cherish those times perhaps more even than the rope and ravish that follows after. This time was a quick affair,  no shaving and upstairs beckoned. It was a fine warm evening and a gentle breeze and perfect conditions for twilight Miss time. For the bath Miss had forgotten the long handled brush for the soap and scour but found a plastic scrubbing brush instead. She improvises well. She sudsed and scrubbed my crotch, paying especial attention to my thighs, and belly, the brush too harsh but this was only conclusively proven when she grabbed my cock and balls and gave them a very vigorous cleansing. Worst of this was the t

Spent most of a day with Miss the other week. It's always amazing to me how dense a 24 hour period can be. It began when i arrived at her house, pausing to switch off the old mp3 and wrap the headphones around it. The usual protocol, popping it in my pocket before ringing the doorbell. Listening for the clunk of the living room door, the creak of floorboards, the snick of the lock. Hoping the neighbours don't pop out and force the kind of awkward small talk and polite smiling you have to make when you're a single man turning up at their single neighbour's house. There was a moment of panic, as there always is, when i wondered what she'd do on the other side. I'd asked for no anger (it makes me uncomfortable but can be Miss' default setting) and she came through. I was spun round inside at the door and my light shorts and thin shirt were swiftly cast down or open. Her hand goosed me grabbing my cock and balls and the other reached into my shirt. I obligingl