Forked

Our last meet (90 minutes @ Starbuck’s) had a few interesting side notes that i didn’t really talk about much at the time. i got my frappachino (since i don’t drink coffee), and decided to have a square of coffeecake. I asked the barista, a sweet young fellow, for two forks, so i could share with Master.

Master doesn’t eat a ton of sweet things, but i wanted to give Him the option. I got back to the table, balancing my drink, my food, and the giant Boston Sunday Globe newspaper. Got my side of the table set up, and handed Him the fork, still in its little plastic liner.

“Fork me?” i say in a naughty tone.

His face lit up and i thought “way to go nilla, the Man can’t wait to share food with you…or fuck you…”

And His eyebrows waggle and He is beaming at me. I push the cake towards Him, and he informs me ‘I don’t eat that stuff, nilla”….

He caught my inquiring look about the fork. i look from the fork to His face, back again. He does a few “air jabs”….

“I’m going to use this before I spank you, little girl. Tenderize that ass good.”

My eyes widen in shock. The Man is ….*amazingly* devious…and i feel my heart trip up a few notches. He jabs the air again, short, staccato (and hard) pulses of that fucking fork, His brows raised, to be sure i get His point.

i do. i feel the shivery threat…promise…of it down my spine, and naughtily enough, deep inside my pussy. Egads, i am wet.

“And then?” He pauses, waits a minute. I tilt my head, mute, since i swallowed my voice, asking with my body language, ‘yes, Master?’

He grins. Beams. Chuckles a bit.

“When I spank that well padded ass, spank it nice and hard, all those little ‘dots’ on your ass will glow white against the red that will cover your ass from my spanking. Won’t that be fun?”

His voice is boyish, almost-but-not-quite innocent. His grin, both sadistic and sweet, lights up His face. His eyes sparkle.

My eyes dash from the fork to His face. He means it, every fucking word. My ass is in His crosshairs…and He never forgets a torture. Carefully, (dare i say reverently?) He packs away the black fork in His briefcase.

**

Later that night, i got my evening text, outlining my Orgasm ‘duties’. Thankfully the Sox won, and He was in a beneficent mood, and i *got* an O, since i was incredibly turned on all weekend. And made especially horny after His ‘manhandling’ me in the parking lot earlier in the morning. A second text came in on the heels of the first:

“Good news X3: Red sox win; event not on date I thought; and I picked up extra forks (fork you)”

I am so completed fucked.

er…forked.

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