We were having a nice, low-key meal at my master's house. The conversation around the table was firing away on all cylinders, riding its meandering road with typical, relentless enthusiasm.
While not exactly an extrovert, my keeper was usually one of the dominant voices at these gatherings. Tonight, however, he had drawn relatively passive. He leaned back in his chair, away from what was once a full plate of food. He had his fingers laced together across his mid-section as he watched our few, close friends discuss some random topic that they had stumbled upon. He was content, eyelids low, enjoying the moment.
Conversely, I was in it. I was engaged. I was enjoying a debate where no one person was right, but everyone felt pretty strongly about their opinions. When I'm around my master, though, I've always got a part of my mind and my body focused on him. I do it without conscious thought.
One, I am my master's pet and it's my duty to anticipate his needs, to be ready to jump at a mere look from him. Two, I'm always ready to have sex, and he is sex. Sex is almost always simmering in the back of my mind, affecting everything I say and do.
At this point in time, I was wriggling my ass in my chair every other moment. I do it when I get excited. I do it when my master gives me a look. I do it involuntarily, like a tail.
He caught my eye as I was listening to two friends swap related experiences.
He patted his lap and said in a low voice, "C'mere."
I was out of my chair quickly and smiling. No sooner had I gotten to my feet, I was on my knees at his side. I stared up at him in case he wanted anything else. He proceeded to pet my head and my toes curled. I finagled myself closer, wrapping an arm around his leg and placing my face as close to his zipper as possible. I nuzzled as he pet me.
It was more than an hour later when he shut the door behind the last guest. I stood behind him, having said my goodbyes. He turned on me, and the look in his eyes pinned my feet to the floor. He looked angry. My mind raced to think what I could've done to deserve such intensity.
He raised a hand to place it on my shoulder and pushed down with a firm pressure. I went to my knees in front of him, staring up. He undid his belt, his button, his fly and pulled his cock out, hard and impressive. I stared. My pussy contracted with instant want despite my fear; it had been thrumming all night. My mouth watered and I whined, but remained still.
"Look at me," I heard and obeyed. I tilted my chin up and met his eyes, burning down into my own. He wasn't angry at all, though the intensity in his eyes still scared me.
"You want to suck my dick, don't you?" he asked in a steady tone that made my spine snap straight and my voice shrink away.
"Yes, sir," I whispered, embarrassed still at this hunger within, but ready to do whatever my master wanted.
"I'm going to fuck your mouth, sweetie," he said and my body began to shake. I whimpered and stared back at his erection, inches from my face.
He continued, reaching down to file his fingers through my hair, "You're going to swallow all of it."
I shivered at the near menace in his voice. He wanted this, too. He might punish me if I failed. I wanted it so badly. I was about to lose my mind.