Conference Call

I close the door of the hotel room and lean against it, kicking off my kitten-heel shoes with a sigh. Conferences are always so exhausting once the high of getting my geek on wears off. My mind is racing; notes to make, follow-up emails to send, ideas, conversations, names, faces…it’s all too much to cope with right now. I reach for my phone and text Him.

“Conf went well. Lots to think about. Feeling a bit overwhelmed.”

While I await His reply, I lock the door and stretch out on the crisp white bedcovers.

The phone buzzes.

“Glad to hear it went OK. Sounds like you need to relax. Take off your clothes and put them away neatly. Then ask me for your next instruction.”

Just the firm tone of His message is enough to kick my heartbeat into high gear and settle a blanket of calm across my mind. I wriggle out of my businesslike dress, peel off my tights, remove my underwear and replace them all, carefully folded, in my suitcase.

“I’m ready Sir. Please tell me what you would like me to do next”

The response is almost instantaneous.

“Good girl. Now, I want you to bend over the the bed, face down and legs spread. Take a picture and send it to me”

I spend a few minutes trying to get the best angle to show off my position and compliance before sending the picture.

“God, you’re so gorgeous. Now, kneel upright on the bed and send me another picture. You’re making me so hard”

A thrill runs through me as it always does when I receive His praise, and I’m scrambling onto the bed before my eyes have finished taking in His message. All thoughts of the professional whirlwind downstairs have seeped out of my consciousness. Right now, there is only myself and Him, tethered together by technology and our mutual delight in my submission to Him.

“Stunning. What a good obedient sub you are. Are you wet yet?”

Wet? I’m almost the River Severn.

“I am, Sir. I’m aching for you”

And I am. Throbbing, aching, flushed and heavy-breathing with desire and delight.

“Then you may take your purple friend out of your case and switch it on. Do not touch yourself with it until I tell you.”

He’s talking about the app-controlled remote vibe I bought last month. I follow instructions with great excitement. It’s the first time we’ve used it for a virtual session and the thought of Him controlling my sensations from a hundred miles away is both deeply arousing and warmly reassuring.

My purple friend buzzes to life in my hand at the same time as my phone.

“Now, kneel up again and press it against your clit”

Suddenly the vibration switches to short, intense, irregular bursts. I let out a gasp, the unpredictability of the pattern heightening the sensations it brings.

I send another picture, without being prompted.

“You minx. Are you trying to earn yourself an orgasm?”

Well, yeah.

I love to push at the edges of His control, revelling in those moments when overcome by lust, He relaxes His strict denial and allows me to indulge myself. This way, it’s a treat rather than a habit; left to my own decisions, my orgasms would be frequent, fleeting and unfulfilling. By careful rationing and control He has taught me to appreciate the sensation more, to enjoy the whole journey rather than simply chasing the finale.

“Yes please, Sir.”

The vibrations of the toy smooth out to a slow steady him.

“Not yet, kitten.”

It’s a good thing He can’t hear me whimpering. Sir has a cheerfully sadistic side, and the more desperate I become, the longer He would delay my release.

The vibrations begin to rise and fall, from slow rumble to hard pins-and-needles buzz. Each wave shortens my breath and stiffens my posture. With my free hand, I send Him a series of emojis, conveying my appreciation. He responds by speeding up the intensity cycle, making me writhe and shudder.

I send him another picture. Me, naked and flushed with my hair awry, beads of sweat trickling between my breasts and my hand pressing the toy firmly in place.

“Mmmm very pretty yes, I think you deserve a reward for that” comes the response. “Lie face-down with your legs wide apart and straight. You may move your hand to position the toy as you wish, but every other part of you must remain completely still until you come. Tell me when you’re done”

I arrange myself as ordered. I have an intense immobility fetish; He knows this is not going to take long. Fighting to remain still against the ever-increasing urge to buck and writhe, keeping silent with my face buried in the duvet; I feel the pleasure gathering and building with the relentless vibrations until I come, yelling and spasming and humping furiously for minutes as the storm of sensation overwhelms me.

After a few minutes more, I am recovered enough to pick up my phone again.

“Done, Sir. Thank you!”

He sends me back a huge smile and a “Good girl”. The toy falls silent.

“Now, go and have a hot bath, get into your pyjamas and make a cup of tea. I’ll call you in two hours. I love you kitten”

Mind wiped clean of anxiety and tension, I move as though through treacle, an expression of dreamy contentment on my face. My colleagues can do without my presence in the bar tonight – I’ve got an important phone call scheduled.

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18 thoughts on “Conference Call

  1. Oh yes, some things are MUCH more important than whatever is going on in the bar.

    Also, it’s been a while, but I remember similar exchanges with John Brownstone back in the day, and they were always the better option than whatever else I needed to be doing at the moment.

  2. This is so good, it speaks to me on many levels. My OH works 12hr nights far too often and if it wasn’t for mobile phones (and sometimes app controlled toys) I’d be rabid.x

  3. “the storm of sensation overwhelms me” – that’s what I’m talking about!!!
    You really excelled at building the tension and we were in the room with you! Great piece xx

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