In the past, I’ve posted about Master Tyrone’s control over every part of my life. The journey has been long, and telling the story even longer, so I break his requirements into short posts, highlighting the most important issues I deal with.
You could say this is part of the Thirty Days of Submission posts, but this particular protocol he set up has been going on for years.
Losing isn’t always a bad thing. In this case, my loss brings me closer to a goal Master Tyrone set five years ago.
I’m talking about losing weight.
Master Tyrone has given a strict directive to take off pounds to a number only he knows. I have fought him, telling him getting down another five pounds, into weight territory I haven’t been in since I was in my twenties is impossible.
He doesn’t hold to my lifelong belief that I can’t get back to that weight and size. Before the last week of October, I had only lost three pounds since April of 2023.
As of this week, I am down another three pounds, am nearer to Master Tyrone’s magical number, yet I’m still skeptical I’ll ever reach it but we’ll see if that happens.
How did my loss create a gain? It wasn’t his control or my desire to submit to his will and give him what he needed.
It was the reward he showered on me last week when I told him I’d lost two pounds.
He gave me the most satisfying and mind-blowing sex we’d had in months. My last post explains it best. Life got in the way.
I cannot do justice to how Master Tyrone controls me sexually. It’s a combination of his tone of voice, his words, his hands, and body, weaving each one expertly until I have no control over my mind and body. His will is mine to obey.
Adding sub, slave, and a host of other words, he puts me into a submissive mindset. He adds a certain tone, inflection, and dirty talk, turning me on at the pace he wants.
He runs his hand or fingers over my body lightly, teasing my nipples only to pinch and twist until I beg, “too much.” Sliding his hand to the place he seeks between my thighs. Or he instructs me to masturbate for him. I run the palm over my hand of my pussy lips, rub the head of the dildo between my wet slit, teasing while his words and tone of voice reinforce his control.
With words, inflection, and lastly touch, he stalks me like a predator does its prey. He knows when he’s caught me, then he takes his time to play. Sliding his fingers inside me, moving slowly deep, pulling all the way out, changing the angle of his thrust, the tempo, fast, short, shallow, then deep again, keeping my body and mind off-balance.
His instructions coax me to give him more. Drawing out silence to gage how needy I am. His intense stare holding my gaze not allowing me to look away, and his directive for me to tell him I’m just his property a slave, a body with no will of my own makes my clit throb.
Master Tyrone engages all my senses, surrounding me; mind, body, and soul, leading me in just the way he desires until finally he allows me to have that first orgasm.
Every part of me explodes, grateful for the release. My breath catches in my lungs, my back arches off the bed, and my hips rise to meet his thrusts. My pussy softens, the throbbing in my clit becomes one long pressures and then my body tenses, suspended in time and space. The first spasm brings me back to reality.
Other orgasms follow. Intense or soft. Master Tyrone doesn’t ease up on his methodical way of using me until he’s wrung out every orgasm he wants me to have. I love every one he gives me, but there is nothing like the first orgasm from his mindfuck.
mastersplayroom.com 