The bedroom is warm, but not uncomfortable. It’s late in the evening, and I’m in my typical summer pyjamas: a loose tee and comfortable shorts. I’m cuddled up with Her, my head on Her ample chest. The smell of Her is an intoxicating blend of cherries and roses and faint sweat.
She is running Her fingers over me, idly tracing my curves, occasionally straying close - oh, so close - to the places I want, but never quite touching them, no matter how I squirm or beg.
This is how She likes me best: simmering, needing, desperate. My chest feels hot and flushed, my body is tingling, there is a deep ache and undeniable moisture between my legs. This is torture. This is heaven.
I hear Him slowly come upstairs and enter the bedroom. I feel His weight shift the mattress as He sits on the edge of the bed, leaning over me to Her for a kiss. His hand touches my side firmly, and a moan escapes my lips.
“I see you’ve got her nice and warmed up already,” He says, a bit of laughter in His voice. “Has she been good today?”
“Very,” She replies, Her fingers brushing oh so slightly over my nipples, eliciting a gasp. “She’s been very good, helping me around the house.” She tells Him briefly about our day, but Her initial words are echoing in my head. I’ve been very good. I would do anything to hear those words from Them.
I feel Him lie behind me, close enough to finally smell His faint cologne. His hand tucks some loose hair behind my ear before wandering down, down, down to finally rest firmly on my hip. He leans in, His breath hot on my neck, and asks in a low voice, “Are you going to be a good girl for Me?”
My answer catches in my throat. I know what He expects to hear, but I still flush with submission and a hint of shame every time. His hand idly moves on my hip as He patiently waits for my response: a softly whimpered “Yes, Daddy.”
I can hear the pride in His voice, and hear His sadistic smile as He replies, “Good girl.”
He pulls my hips towards Him slightly, but firmly. Her hands have not stopped their tracing of me. My body lights up from every touch They each give me; Her gentle grazing sending lightning through my nerves, His firm grip making me melt.
His hand loosens its grasp on my hip, and begins to move, slowly but purposefully. His fingers slip under the waistband of my shorts, His rougher skin a perfect contrast to Her soft fingers. His hand reaches between my legs, and presses gently but firmly as He begins to move it in agonizingly slow circles.
Her fingers wander up under my shirt, and begin playing with my sensitive nipples, and the stimulation breaks me. I give in to my body, drinking in every blissful moment of this torturous pleasure. “Thank you, oh gods, please, please, holy fuck, thank you…” The words fall out of my mouth on their own, no thought behind them, just pure need, vocalized.
“Good girl. I love how grateful you are for the attention We give you,” I hear Her say.
“Just remember the rules, sweet girl,” He says. “You need permission.”
This rule has been ingrained in me such that it is second nature. They know I’ll ask and obey; the reiteration is simply a ritual by now.
Their touch is unrelenting. His slow circles have oh so slowly accelerated; Her fingers have not stopped playing with my nipples; His breath and lips on my neck send shivers down my spine. I can do nothing but writhe and moan and “thank you” and “yes Daddy” and “yes Maîtresse” and “oh gods” and “please, please, Daddy, please I’m so close, please Maîtresse please may I-”
“No,” He says gently, lifting His hand away slightly. “No cumming. That’s My good girl.”
My body lingers close to the edge for several agonizing moments, desperate need filling me, writhing, pleading. Then His words penetrate my desperate fog, and submission washes over me; my body sinks into the mattress a little, my muscles relax, my head empty of everything. I’m Theirs.
Her hands gently pull my face up to Hers, and I feel Her soft lips press against mine, Her tongue gently probing my mouth. A few moments later, I feel His hand press back down, resuming its movements, and I moan into Her.
I lose count of the edges. I lose track of time. Teased, edged, begging, “no”, “good girl”; I’m writhing and whimpering, Their fingers and tongues and lips tormenting me endlessly.
After what feels like an eternity of my mind and body oscillating between submission and need, something deep within me settles down contentedly at yet another “No cumming. Good girl.” This is exactly where I am meant to be. I am so lucky to be shown over and over that it doesn’t matter when or even if I will finally given permission to release. I’m Theirs, this is how They like me best, and this is how it should be.
My eyes struggle to focus, the words come to me slowly. “Thank You, Maîtresse. Thank You, Daddy. Thank You for keeping me like this. I love You.”
Published on 2026-09-23