I read Mr. L’s message over and over, each time feeling a surge of excitement greater than the last. My heart raced as I scrolled back to the picture I had sent him. Even I had to admit—it was the hottest picture I’d ever taken.
When I picked up the red lipstick after slipping out of my nightgown, I hadn’t planned to take a picture perched on the sink. But as I stood in front of the bathroom mirror, applying the rich color to my lips, a thought crossed my mind—to be a little more adventurous. That’s when the idea to write on the mirror hit me suddenly, and I couldn’t resist.
I knew he’d like it, and it seemed I was right. I drove him crazy. I knew it! And I loved it. He drove me crazy too, awakening parts of me I didn’t even know existed.
I couldn’t wait for our second lesson. The thought of showing him something new, of pushing our boundaries even further, made my pulse quicken. I started to snicker, then laugh, unable to contain my excitement.
I lay sprawled across the soft quilt, my body tingling with an intensity that was both exhilarating and overwhelming. The room was dimly lit, casting soft shadows that danced along the walls as my laughter rang out uncontrollably. Each peal of laughter seemed to amplify, bouncing off the quiet, serene walls of my sanctuary. Despite my best efforts to stifle the sound by burying my face into the luxurious fabric, my giggles slipped through, an echo of unrestrained joy that filled the space.
The reason for this unbridled happiness was simple—him. The thought of Mr. L wanting to see me again, wanting to be with me intimately, was intoxicating. I could barely grasp the magnitude of it. I felt like a kettle that had reached its boiling point, unable to contain the steam any longer. My laughter was a torrent that wouldn’t be held back, a joyful outpouring that I couldn’t control.
Eventually, the laughter subsided, and I lay still, my breath coming in uneven gasps. Even in the quiet that followed, my mind was still buzzing with dopamine, leaving me lightheaded and euphoric. This wasn’t mere happiness; it was a profound, intoxicating pleasure that filled every inch of me, an overwhelming sense of bliss that I couldn’t ignore.
Just then, my phone rang, pulling me out of the swirling thoughts of Mr. L that had occupied my mind all night. I reached for it instinctively, half-expecting it to be my Mark checking in on work—praying, though, that it was Mr L. To my surprise, Charlotte’s name flashed across the screen. If she wasn’t my best friend, I wouldn’t have answered the call; I didn’t want any distractions while I thought of my master happily. But she was, so I picked up, albeit a little reluctantly.
“Hi, girl!” she chirped, her voice bright and cheerful as always. “Just calling to check on you.”
“I’m fine,” I replied, settling deeper into the bed. “Didn’t you see the news? My boss did so well today.”
“You mean your crush,” she teased, her tone laced with mischief.
I couldn’t help but roll my eyes, even though she couldn’t see me. “I no longer have a crush on him. I’m all for Mr. L now.”
There was a brief silence on the other end, and I frowned, wondering if the call had dropped. “Charlotte? Are you there?”
“Wait,” she said, her voice dropping to a more serious tone. “You mean to tell me you and Mr. L still chat?”
“Yeah, why?” I asked, a bit puzzled by her sudden change in tone.
“Because,” she began, drawing the word out as if it held some profound secret, “he told me he hardly ever keeps a sub for more than a month. It’s been over three months with you, and he’s not yet tired. He must really like you.”
Her words sent a shiver down my spine, and I found myself biting my lip, a smile tugging at the corners of my mouth. My heart began to race in exhilaration, pounding in my chest like a drum. “You still owe me for the bet,” I said, trying to keep my voice light and playful, though I could feel the excitement bubbling up inside me.
Charlotte laughed, the sound warm and familiar. “You have Mr. L; that’s enough of a win for you.”
I narrowed my eyes, even though she wasn’t there to see it. “You sly fox, that was not the agreement.”
Before I could press her further, she cut me off. “Call you back, my new master is on the line.”
I blinked in surprise. “You have a new master?”
“Seeing as you took Mr. L from me,” she joked, though there was a hint of something unspoken beneath her words.
“I didn’t—” I began, but she was already cutting me off.
“Just joking,” she said quickly, and with that, she hung up, leaving me holding the phone to my ear, feeling a strange mixture of emotions.
Her words lingered in my mind, stirring up a whirlwind of thoughts. Charlotte had always been the type to move on quickly, never one to dwell on what could have been. But her comment about Mr. L, about him not getting tired of me... it was something I hadn’t fully considered. The weight of it settled in my chest, heavy and warm.
But those feelings only lasted for a few moments before my thoughts drifted back to Mr. L and the next time we would be together. The idea of our next training session sent a thrill through me.
The connection we shared was unlike anything I’d ever experienced before—intense, consuming, and incredibly addictive. Mr. L had a way of making me feel alive, like every nerve ending in my body was on fire, and I couldn’t get enough. Each time we chatted, I walked away wanting more, especially after our first mute session.
I couldn’t help but wonder what Mr. L had in store for me next. Whatever it was, I knew I would be ready—ready to submit, ready to push my boundaries, and ready to explore the depths of my desire.
I closed my eyes, letting my mind wander to all the possibilities that awaited us. There was no denying it—Mr. L had a hold on me, and I was completely, utterly his. The anticipation was almost too much to bear. I could use a lot of sex now, I thought to myself, feeling the familiar heat pool low in my belly.
Sex had always been an inseparable part of my existence, something that was both natural and undeniable.
During college, I had begun to explore my desires through secret viewings of Japanese AV films. The contrast fascinated me—the girls, always impeccably dressed and undeniably attractive, juxtaposed with men who were, frankly, less than appealing. The men’s small, unimpressive genitalia made me question the validity of the pleasure these encounters were supposed to provide. It was baffling.
Then I moved to Italy, and my perspective shifted dramatically. The world of sex films expanded before me, revealing a new and more nuanced understanding of pleasure. I realized that many of these films weren’t made with women in mind—they were crafted for men, focusing on beautiful women and tantalizing scenes designed to fuel the male imagination. Through this new lens, I discovered my own preferences: gentle touches, powerful spanks, and a more sophisticated view of pleasure.
Now, as I sat here reflecting on the day’s events and the thrill of what’s to come, I felt like a flurry of excitement, a constant stream of pink bubbles floating on a soft evening breeze, soaring into the sky.
My next session with Mr. L would be explosive.