Kitchen play

We came back from ‘our’ bar. I had two glasses of white wine during the hour and a half that I sat there. The wine had me a little tipsy. Hubby had three glasses of whisky and Coke, but he sat there for just more than 3 hours. I think He was much less tipsy than I was.

Once we were home, hubby went to the kitchen to pour us another drink before we go to bed. I was looking at a painting I made, but followed Him to the kitchen. I was so proud of my painting and said it. I told Him that I feel like a child, full of glee because of what I have created. And that it was not the only creation I was proud of, but that I was also proud of the fantasy that I have written during the day. I told Him that it excited me, that I felt myself go wet while I was writing the fantasy. It involves 15 men, I said with a wicked smile.

He stood right in front of me, His arms on either side of me on the kitchen counter.
“That is something that you will enjoy, right?” I nodded.
“To be at the mercy of many men, to let them do to you what they want,” He continued and I nodded again. I felt myself get warm inside.
“So nice of you to now at last tell me this, to admit that you will enjoy it. How come you are admitting it now?” He asked.
I laughed. “Maybe because of the wine?”
“Yes, maybe it’s the wine, but I want you to tell me these things. I want you to tell me your fantasies. You know I don’t always want to read about it. I want to hear it from you.” I was back to nodding again.

Then I thought of something.
“I’ve learned something from Mina,” I said, referring to one of my friends on twitter.
“What have you learned?”
“That when I am ready to perform a task for you, I can suggest that to you. That way I don’t have to be frustrated while waiting for you to give me a task.”
“You want to turn it up a notch. You want more. Are you prepared to submit you to my wicked mind?” I nodded. I explained that I want us to take bigger steps, but that I cannot tell Him how big the steps must be. That some things frighten me, but are drawing me to them like a moth is drawn to a flame. We talked for a bit more.

Then I had to go to the toilet and said so.
“When you come back I want you to stand there and finger yourself,” He said when I was about to leave the kitchen. I looked at the spot He indicated. It was right in front of the stove. The light of the extraction unit above the stove was on. It’s not a bright light, but it being dark outside, I was afraid that someone would see me. If someone would stand just outside our garden gate, they would have been able to see me. Even so when someone walked down the street towards our corner house.
“Must I stand there? Can’t I stand there?” I asked and pointed to a spot where no one would be able to see me from the street.
“No. You stand there,” He said, pointing to the spot in front of the stove again.
“But I will be seen.”
“You will not be seen. Anything else you care to discuss or are you going to perform the task I ordered you to do?” He asked and His voice sounded strict.

I turned around, went to the toilet and came back with my pants and panties on my knees. I stood where He said I should and started playing with my clitoris. Since I was still horny from writing fantasies all day, I felt my orgasm quickly building. I asked permission to climax and it was granted. Again and again. After about the sixth or seventh time He looked around the kitchen.

“Why have you not yet looked for something to put in your pussy?” He asked.
I opened the closest kitchen drawer and immediately saw a medium sized wooden handle of an old-fashioned potato masher. I took it from the drawer. It easily slipped into my wet pussy. Still rubbing my clitoris, I started to fuck myself with the masher’s handle. The hard wood touched some tender nerves inside me. Soon – after asking for permission of course – I was climaxing again. Some more climaxes followed.

“You may stop now,” He said as He walked towards me. He took the masher from me.
“How many times have you climaxed?” He asked.
“About 10, 12 times,” I said with a smile. I was thinking that I have made Him proud.
He turned me to face the kitchen counter and asked me to put my hands on the counter. He lifted my shirt. I was surprised when the first blow of the handle of the masher touched my ass. It hurt! More than the flogger. More than His hand. It hurt! After the fourth blow I told Him that it hurt and turned my ass away from Him, my hands still on the counter.
“Get back here,” He said, “I know it hurt. You climaxed twelve times.”
“Five. Six.” He counted as He hit my ass cheeks with the handle again. I took the counting over from him.
“Seven. Eight. Nine. Ten. Eleven. Twelve.”

My ass was on fire. He put the masher down and took me in His arms.
“That is what listening to your Master means. That is submitting yourself to me, when and wherever I expect it of you. You should do what I tell you to do, as you just did. I love you.”

(written on 20.05.2011)
© Rebel’s Notes

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