A Service House Story #5
If you would like to read them in sequence Click HERE to start at the beginning. The Story is entitled How May I be of Service.
I get off on watching the new trainees. Me, Lowell Anderson, dominant trained the second year, must come to terms with the desire I feel for Periwinkle, fellow trainee submissive. And she is off limits because Master Orlando staked his claim.
Every beginner at The Service House had “a look.” I’ve seen them all in my nearly two years here. Periwinkle had one. It was a question, desire, and an uncertainty rolled into one haunting expression. The new ones were always ripe, as their look was confirmed, sandwiched between lust and debauchery,
Most trainees wanted to come to terms with their inward sexuality. The Service House afforded everyone this opportunity. A person would always come to terms with it, one way or another.
New member, Kate, transformed into Periwinkle overnight. In most respects, each of us transformed. We either received an answer we liked or disliked, or accepted a desire we never knew we had, or identified something about ourselves that took us by surprise. In any event, this place allowed us to discover pleasure, in all its sorted and mysterious combinations.
When Periwinkle stood in line with the other submissive trainees, her purple ribbon around her neck, I knew. She was in a class all her own. Her skin which contrasted with her docile presence tapped directly into my dominant personality. I wanted everything about her directed toward me.
The first night she arrived, I availed myself to ten different female trainees, searching. I wanted to see the color on them that I knew I could bring to her skin. I applied everything from my arsenal of techniques, and I never observed on their skin what was in my mind’s eye about her’s.
Later in that first evening, when the group used her as a serving table, I was mesmerized by her feminine lines and with her roundness. The shape of her breasts when they faced downward, and the curves of her ass astounded me. Master David reprimanded me for taking too long in my strokes on Trainee Alice, but I hid what preoccupied me.
Periwinkle aroused me and distracted me then, and she provoked me now.
I imagined her luscious body splayed out and bent over my lap. Her scent now cataloged in my mind from that quick step she took by me. It was fresh and crisp, like a fruit orchard. She held her frame so well, a real exhibitionist, presenting herself in absolute ease. I created a path in my mind that I would use to explore and trace the edges of her body. I craved to know what her response would be to my touch, my attentions.
I stripped off my clothes, headed to my bed, and took my cock in hand. The last time I saw her was at the pleasure/punishment session. Surrounded by the other trainees who received pleasure, she experienced the opposite in orgasm denial, but she couldn’t stop the automatic and unconscious responses of her body. Her skin flush moved evenly over her body like the sunrise added light across the earth. It captivated me. While many received orgasmic pleasure from those providing massive masturbation efforts, I responded to Periwinkle’s anguish. She took her punishment well that night, but her body gave her away. Even with her eyes blindfolded, her face conveyed a range of emotions. They were detailed yet subtle. My memory of her expression encapsulated the buzzing and moaning with the thick and musky arousal scents of those around her. Laying on my bed, I back into this memory, it was as if she was here now. It made me harder as I thought about it. What had she done or not done to find herself receiving punishment?
Without a doubt, she needed training, and I wanted to dominate her. I wanted to do wicked things to her, and I wanted her to do particular things for me. With one hand stroking my erection, I used the other hand to caress my body and pretended it was her hand. I commanded her on what path to take. Her hard nipples, perfectly large for accepting individual and harsh attention, dragged across my chest and stomach. I considered how I could bind them to make a flush occur across her skin. After binding, I would play with them while she placed her mouth on my cock. With the thought of her warm mouth and lips on me, my hand jerked in my rhythmic motions. Building on my surge, I became lost, in thoughts of her, her expressions, her skin, and her persona. My orgasm surprised me. I shot off hard and fast.
Nothing surprises me, this did. Periwinkle did. I survive on control, but I can’t seem to control myself concerning her.
With my semen covered hand, I rubbed my slick substance over my lower abdomen and considered how I would have Periwinkle clean me up.
Orlando doesn’t run the show. I will become Periwinkle's dominant.
Writing today for #WICKED WEDNESDAY. Click HERE to read other stories about READING, erotic or not.
If you would like to read them in sequence Click HERE to start at the beginning. The Story is entitled How May I be of Service.
I get off on watching the new trainees. Me, Lowell Anderson, dominant trained the second year, must come to terms with the desire I feel for Periwinkle, fellow trainee submissive. And she is off limits because Master Orlando staked his claim.
Every beginner at The Service House had “a look.” I’ve seen them all in my nearly two years here. Periwinkle had one. It was a question, desire, and an uncertainty rolled into one haunting expression. The new ones were always ripe, as their look was confirmed, sandwiched between lust and debauchery,
Most trainees wanted to come to terms with their inward sexuality. The Service House afforded everyone this opportunity. A person would always come to terms with it, one way or another.
New member, Kate, transformed into Periwinkle overnight. In most respects, each of us transformed. We either received an answer we liked or disliked, or accepted a desire we never knew we had, or identified something about ourselves that took us by surprise. In any event, this place allowed us to discover pleasure, in all its sorted and mysterious combinations.
When Periwinkle stood in line with the other submissive trainees, her purple ribbon around her neck, I knew. She was in a class all her own. Her skin which contrasted with her docile presence tapped directly into my dominant personality. I wanted everything about her directed toward me.
The first night she arrived, I availed myself to ten different female trainees, searching. I wanted to see the color on them that I knew I could bring to her skin. I applied everything from my arsenal of techniques, and I never observed on their skin what was in my mind’s eye about her’s.
Later in that first evening, when the group used her as a serving table, I was mesmerized by her feminine lines and with her roundness. The shape of her breasts when they faced downward, and the curves of her ass astounded me. Master David reprimanded me for taking too long in my strokes on Trainee Alice, but I hid what preoccupied me.
Periwinkle aroused me and distracted me then, and she provoked me now.
I imagined her luscious body splayed out and bent over my lap. Her scent now cataloged in my mind from that quick step she took by me. It was fresh and crisp, like a fruit orchard. She held her frame so well, a real exhibitionist, presenting herself in absolute ease. I created a path in my mind that I would use to explore and trace the edges of her body. I craved to know what her response would be to my touch, my attentions.
I stripped off my clothes, headed to my bed, and took my cock in hand. The last time I saw her was at the pleasure/punishment session. Surrounded by the other trainees who received pleasure, she experienced the opposite in orgasm denial, but she couldn’t stop the automatic and unconscious responses of her body. Her skin flush moved evenly over her body like the sunrise added light across the earth. It captivated me. While many received orgasmic pleasure from those providing massive masturbation efforts, I responded to Periwinkle’s anguish. She took her punishment well that night, but her body gave her away. Even with her eyes blindfolded, her face conveyed a range of emotions. They were detailed yet subtle. My memory of her expression encapsulated the buzzing and moaning with the thick and musky arousal scents of those around her. Laying on my bed, I back into this memory, it was as if she was here now. It made me harder as I thought about it. What had she done or not done to find herself receiving punishment?
Without a doubt, she needed training, and I wanted to dominate her. I wanted to do wicked things to her, and I wanted her to do particular things for me. With one hand stroking my erection, I used the other hand to caress my body and pretended it was her hand. I commanded her on what path to take. Her hard nipples, perfectly large for accepting individual and harsh attention, dragged across my chest and stomach. I considered how I could bind them to make a flush occur across her skin. After binding, I would play with them while she placed her mouth on my cock. With the thought of her warm mouth and lips on me, my hand jerked in my rhythmic motions. Building on my surge, I became lost, in thoughts of her, her expressions, her skin, and her persona. My orgasm surprised me. I shot off hard and fast.
Nothing surprises me, this did. Periwinkle did. I survive on control, but I can’t seem to control myself concerning her.
With my semen covered hand, I rubbed my slick substance over my lower abdomen and considered how I would have Periwinkle clean me up.
Orlando doesn’t run the show. I will become Periwinkle's dominant.
Writing today for #WICKED WEDNESDAY. Click HERE to read other stories about READING, erotic or not.
