The forsaken

Letter 1:

A sex-slave writes to his Mistress, who has decided to forsake him, to his demise.

My dearest,

I miss you so much it makes me cry, don't you know it? I'm writing this letter to you, on my knees, on the floor, in the hope that, if there's a God somewhere, you'll read and come to rescue me.

A month ago (oh, my God, it's been a month already), when you decided you'd forsaken me, I felt betrayed and, please, I know you have your reasons. I have to trust it's all for the best because you've always been so much wiser than me, but please, know that I'm spending my days hoping that one day you'll come back because there's a bond between us! You said it long ago!

Remember our first date? It was pouring heavily, and I spotted you on the other side of the street, under an awning, waiting, for the rain to stop. You were so pretty, drenched, your fringe glued on your forehead. I offered you my umbrella, and you took me by the arm and I walked you home. You stood on your tiptoes and kissed my cheek gratefully, so I gathered some courage and asked you out. Do you know how hard that was for a shrinking violet like me? But you accepted! Oh, you did accept and I felt wildly thrilled.

That evening we went to the restaurant, and we were amiably talking when, out of the blue, I felt your foot push against my crotch, under the table. I spit the water I was drinking all over the table, surprised and saw that everyone was looking at me, disgusted, but you kept grinding your toes up and down my hardening shaft as if checking its length. I blabbered some apology, and you chuckled so prettily I just knew I loved you. Right there and then, I was yours.

You whispered me to unzip my pants, and I, first checking if waiters were around, did it, freeing my member against your nyloned sole. I remember I had tried to caress it under the table, but you shook your head no. Your touch was extremely hot on my skin; I was flushing red and looking intensely at you. We both sat there silent for a while, looking at each other, sharing something that was only ours. I was slightly humping your foot, closing it between my thighs, and then you said: "Rip the silk." I didn't question, I just lowered my hands underneath the table and ripped the nylon on your sole.

The feeling of your bare skin on my erection intensified, it was so smooth and soft, sliding up and down, digging the head against my stomach and then all over again. I knew I would come if you kept at it and, just then, you did something that startled me even more. You called for the waitress! I was breathing heavily, on the brink of a mind shattering orgasm and you called the waitress.

When she arrived, you asked her things I don't remember, talking innocently, as if nothing was happening, moving your foot steadily between my legs. I tried to hide my excitement focusing on my already cold steak, cutting a slice, with shaky hands. My member started pulsing against your sole, and I felt my loins contract. I grabbed the table tight and, as my head was spinning wildly, I exploded against your foot.

It was so intense it squirted up my shirt, over the border of the table and I'm sure the waitress noticed that. I put a hand on my forehead as if I was thinking while I was truly coming hard, my chest spasming as if I were crying.

The waitress addressed me asking if I was alright and you looked at me amused as I merely nodded and waved a hand annoyed in her direction. You dismissed the waitress, keeping on sliding up and down your wet sole, sticky with my sperm, on my still throbbing sex, slowly deflating. Taking a deep breath, I managed to regain some composure and looked down. My pants were a mess, how could I possibly leave the restaurant without everyone noticing it.

"Clean my foot, pretty please?" You pouted and, still shaking, I unwrapped the napkin and put it on my lap, hoping the other customers would think I was just cleaning my hands. I dabbed your sole and your toes one by one. I died to kiss them, but there was too much noise around. Little I knew that I'd have plenty of that during the awesome year we've spent together. Then, pulling away your foot, you said we're bound and, yes, it's true, since the dawn of times, sex is the strongest rope to bind two people together.

I miss your tiny toes wiggling between my lips while you laugh, lightly when I tickle them with the tip of my tongue. I love their taste, their smell, their smoothness. I would kill if I knew it would help licking one last time your lovely soles when you sleep.

Oh, I just heard some steps behind the door, and my heart has jumped in my chest! But it was just my neighbour... Every time I hope it's you and then my delusion hurts like a burning fire. Please, when you read this hurry back, I will do anything.

Anything, like that time when you wanted me to lick you to climax in that dark alley and then, your feminine humour smeared on my face, you took me by the hand and pulled me inside a crowded shop. I was sure everyone noted your sexy smell in my mouth; I surely was aware of it. As we were walking through the aisles chatting about the products, I could smell your orgasm.

We were looking at meat, pears, cheese and all I could smell were your juices drying on my skin. I kept licking my lips unconsciously until you lent me your embroidered handkerchief, allowing me to clean up. I still had to deal with my stiffy, which made it awkward to walk around, but I could see you smile amused every time I had to stop because it was rubbing painfully against my pants. Can you remember, my darling, those moments? Can you forget them?

And above all, have you an idea of what you did to me when you left? You got me used to sex every day, now every morning I wake with my "thing" hard as steel, and you've conditioned me not to come without permission. It's a whole month I'm in dire need, and every time I try to relieve myself, I feel so much guilt I can't finish, and I'm so pent-up that I'm sure your mere sight would be enough to push me over the edge. Can you imagine? You, opening the door and being greeted by a spurting fountain of cum in the middle of the room. Eheh, I know you'd enjoy that.

So, please, at least tell me what happened between us? Did I bore you? Did I lose my touch? Just tell me what to do, it's that easy, and I'll comply! You know I will because I never refused you one single desire. Do you want me to pamper you all night long, treating you with champagne and strawberries? Do you want me to take you again in an alley? Do you want me to strip naked in the middle of a street? Nothing will be too much to have you back, to wake in the morning with your head on my chest.

Yesterday I fell asleep at the foot of our bed, where you usually wanted me to when I was chastised. I had a picture of you next to my face, and I talked to it for hours, crying like a baby. Yes, I cried, and I'm not ashamed to admit it. You know I've never cried once, in all the time we've spent together and, perhaps, this admission will let you know the depth of my grief. It's heart wrenching, like a part of me is missing and even worse, cause I'm sure it would hurt less if I'd lose a leg or a kidney, cause at this moment I'm losing parts more vital than a leg or a kidney. I'm losing my head, I think of the craziest and most dangerous stuff, and I'm losing my heart, cause it's so empty without you that I can't even feel it anymore.

So, when you read this, and I know you will unless you've changed your mailbox (but what would I be guilty of to have you punish me like this?), please don't even waste time answering, just run back to me as soon as possible. I shall wait here forever if it takes all eternity because there's nothing in this world that I would love more than basking in your presence.

With unending love,
Your loyal slave,

P.S.: Ehm... after all, maybe a text telling me I'm allowed to get off would be appreciated, I'm dying here. Help!


Letter 2:

A Mistress responds to her slave's plea to return, explaining the reasons she is staying away.

My dearest,

I received your mail, and I'm so happy to see you're doing well. Yes, I know you don't feel good but let me explain. You already know how I can be a total bitch and how a huge turn on for me is having someone depending on me. Knowing that you are waiting for me forever is making me so hot and bothered I could just let you there forever.
You are right, sooner or later I will be back but I enjoy not letting you know when. I could be right out of your door while you read this, can you imagine? Run now to the door and check!
Or I'll be back in a week, a month, a year. I can't say when this game will get old.

Maybe one day you'll just find out I forgot about you, and you'll see me hanging out with someone else.

Who can say?

But if you love me and trust me, you will wait and NO, you're not allowed to get off if I'm not there.

Oh, I'd love to be there too, to see the effect I have on you. I remember everything, how can you even dare to try to remind me something this obvious? And, just to say, it's you who forgot something about our first date. That time, I was teasing your cock under the table, and I could clearly see how you wanted to touch me, you were so tense.

I appreciated that you complied with my desire but, when I felt you squeeze my foot between your thighs, that was unrequested. I should have punished retracting my foot and leave you there with your cock out. You were supposed not to touch me with any part of your body as I wanted it to be me touching you, not the other way around. I let it go because, after all, it was just our first date and I liked to feel your hardened flesh crushed under my domain and, when it squirted, feeling your cum dribbling hot between my toes. With the corner of the eye, I spied the customers around, and I know that more than one had understood what was happening between us. One almost choked on his food.

But you did a good job, stifling your moans and keeping still not to show yourself up. I applaud you. I don't know if, in your place, I would have been able to do the same since, as you might have noticed, I tend to be quite vocal when I'm climaxing. This reminds me of that time I was riding you in our bedroom, and the neighbors got so turned on they had started to fuck as well, their moans mixing with ours. It seemed like we were all in the same room. I am laughing right now, thinking back at that time. The day after, when we'd come across them on the stairs, they both had turned purple and avoided looking at us. It took them a whole week for them to muster the courage to greet us back.

Yes, I remember everything, and I miss you too. We were the perfect fit, dominant and submissive, which rarely happens but we complement each other greatly.

Ok, I'm sorry because I know that, in your eyes, it's paradoxical that I miss you, and yet I leave you but it's my selfish lust that pushes me to do this. Being able to leave you is the greatest proof that I truly, completely, own you. Bear with me as you've done through an entire year, you can do it, I trust in this.

If it is fate, you'll see me back.

With love,
Your owner,