Category: D/s

In His Hands

Heartfelt Hands by Tracy-Ann via DeviantArt.com
Heartfelt Hands by Tracy-Ann via DeviantArt.com

Safe and soothed,
Tempted and tickled,
Lost and lavished,
Pleasured and pained.

In his hands, I am loved.

In his hands, I am more than loved, I am adored.

In his hands, I am lifted to places too high to understand.

And I am held to depths that I must discover.

Teased but treasured,
Frozen but freed,
Bruised but beautiful,
Whittled but whole.

In his hands, I am allowed to be all the perfect imperfection that makes life worth living.

In his hands, I am taught what this world is truly about.

In his hands, I am lifted… to the heavens above heaven.

And I am held, loosely, but never let go.

I am exactly where I was always meant to be.

In his amazing hands.

Let Go

He stands behind her, reaching out to drag long, daring fingers through her silky tresses. Down the velvet arch of her back then up again, into her locks, tugging her sharply against him.

“Five,” he growls against her ear, before pressing her forward, bent over the mattress, molding her to his will.

His belt is folded and she hears the wicked snap of him pulling it tight in his grasp. His fingers glide over the soft, round curve of her bottom before he steps back to his task.

The first strike lands and the heat is immediate and intense. A sensation she’d dreamed of, a pain she’d longed for, and despite the whimper which escapes her throat, she instantly wants more.

The second blow is lower and even harder than the first, but the groan which bubbles from her chest is filled with the depth of her desire, not to quit, but to endure all that he might offer.

The discomfort of the third causes her to cry out, softly. He wonders at her desire for this pain, and what it does to her. A question that would have to be answered, eventually. She would have to make him understand.

The fourth stings and sends jolts through her core. How could she ever explain? The little girl in her has no words to describe her need for this. And the masochist within is mute from a lifetime of hiding.

The final hit is fast, biting her skin with enough intensity to leave a mark, and she exhales in pants, wishing for more but knowing that it would be too much.

His hands smooth over her hot flesh before guiding her to stand and back into him. He strokes her hair and nuzzles her neck as she catches her breath.

When he turns her in his arms and kisses her deeply, she feels his arousal against her belly and loses herself in him.

As his kiss turns wild and animalistic, it is all she can do to remain upright, her knees threaten to fail, her mind threatens to part.

His fingers search and explore her body expertly. He knows each and every tiny place that is secretly and amazingly linked to her core. And tortures her in the most delicious, teasing game, before they find their home deep within her.

“Please…,” she whimpers as he pulls his lips from hers.

He slips his fingers from her and traces her lips with her own liquid lust. “You got what you wanted, what are you begging for?”

She looks deep in his pale eyes and is frozen within his gaze. She did get what she wanted…

She’d begged and pleaded for that which she believed she needed. She’d forced her thoughts on him, she’d pushed him to conform to her needs.

Sinking to her knees before him, she gazes up at him. “Please, accept my submission.

“Use me, as I have used you. To fulfill your deepest desires. To satiate whatever craving lies buried beyond your limits. To satisfy the beast you keep hidden so extraordinarily well that most don’t even recognize he’s there.”

His eyes are unreadable, his expression giving no insight into his thoughts. Only after staring at her for far too long does he sit on the bed and pull her up into his lap.

Wrapping himself around her and burying his face in her hair, he sighs. “Let go. Submit to my love, wife. I need you like I need air. But I could never do this to you without you asking me for it explicitly. I will play the part, at your direction, but I will not… cannot… bend you to my will. Let go of the picture of who you want me to be and accept me for who I am. Submit to my love, not to my will.”

His refusal hangs in the air. But she clings to him and he to her. The heat he’d burned into her cheeks is fading, and her heart races against his as she absorbs the desperation of his grip.

She tries to pull away, but he doesn’t let her. And as she replays his words in her mind, over and over, she does let go.

She allows those five blows to clean the slate. To wipe away all of her expectations. To create a new plan and path.

One which she will forge and guide them on… quietly… by a leash around her throat. 

She will submit. To his love.

And to his ever-present desire for her to lead.

She takes his hand, pushing it across her body then up to wrap his fingers around her neck.

“I’ll let go… if you don’t.”

To be owned… Part 2

Day Two – Morning (continued from Day One)

She wakes suddenly. Oh, his kiss, his body, his hands…

She stretches out on the cold vinyl, feeling weak and brittle, despite the hot, wet desire between her thighs. As she blinks in the very pale early morning light, she ponders the sweetness of her dream. A vivid and lovely dream.

It never ceases to amaze her that her subconscious always seems to long for the other side of the coin. Yesterday was brutal, there was none of the tenderness that she knows from him. And so she dreamt of it. When he has been sweet and loving, spending hours caressing and adoring her body, she dreams of his ropes, cuffs, paddles, floggers, crops and canes.

He always loves hearing about her dreams. She smiles, wishing she could tell him about this one.

The pain in her limbs has improved with sleep, but her body still feels weak and worn. She rubs her bruised wrists, almost missing the wicked shackles that imprisoned her for hours. His shackles. Her complete submission is more than worth it.

This is mine. She melts, imagining the pleasure he will derive from owning her… Body, mind, heart and spirit.

It’s too early to start cooking. The house is completely silent, and there is a definite chill in the air. She longs to be in his warm bed, in his strong arms. But she thinks she understand why she isn’t. He needs her to feel the depth of giving herself to him. The pleasure and tenderness of his love makes it an exchange. But to be owned, she must give of herself freely. Every action must be about pleasing him.

Standing to stretch some more, she decides to busy herself despite her exhaustion. As she cautiously fills a cleaning bucket, she longs to soak in the hot water, but dismisses the thought. It is his body to bathe.

An hour passes, and the small kitchen shines from her work. She ignores her hunger and thirst as she begins cooking his favorite breakfast. She smiles remembering the first pancakes she’d made him, at her apartment. He ate every, single one. Then told her he’d never liked pancakes before. The memory pinks her cheeks as she pulls her hair back and braids it quickly to get it out of her way. She sees one of her hairbands on the windowsill that she doesn’t remember leaving there. She wonders if he had put it there for her last night…

As she cooks, she hums a little. When she feels him watching her, she glances toward the doorway, smiling, but immediately turns away, feeling contrite. She is so unsure of herself all of a sudden.

He walks to her, still in just his boxers, steps behind her and grabs her bruised wrists. She drops the pan she was carrying into the sink, and winces at the pressure of his fingertips, but almost sighs in relief at his touch.

“Are you afraid to smile at me now?”

His growl and breath is at her ear as he glides her palms along the countertop to grip the edge before backing up and pulling her hips with him. She can feel his erection against her cheeks and longs for it to soothe the ache in her belly from her morning dream, but she knows this is sure to be quick and hard. For his pleasure only.

As he presses into her, she moans involuntarily.

“Thinking of me, were you? I’m sure you’re not expecting me to be gentle.”

Without pause, he begins pounding into her causing her to cry out. She bites her lip to stifle any more yelps as his fingers dig into her already burning hips. Lifting his right hand to the front of her neck, he pulls so that her back is arched as far as it can, and her breath is caught in her throat.

She loves it rough and can’t help it when her body responds. But she knows she cannot release. If she has an orgasm without permission, she is sure he will be furious. He’d told her from the very first time they had sex that her pleasure belonged to him. It wasn’t hers to squander.

She is starting to see stars when she recognizes the signs that he is about to climax. She squeezes her inner muscles, trying to make it as pleasurable as possible for him. His satisfying groans are more than enough reward. He curses as he pours himself deep inside her, and then leans into her, letting go of her throat.

Gasping and panting, she holds the counter firmly. Glancing at the stove, relieved she had turned everything off.

After pulling out of her, he spins her around and grips her arms firmly. His lips are inches from hers and she can’t help but look him in the eyes. Should she look away? What now?

“Serve my breakfast. Make two plates. You can tell me what you’ve been up to, little slut, then I’ll feed you.

Commands. Good. She exhales, knowing she’s pleased him and delighting in the chance to actually talk to him.

After making two plates, and filling two glasses with orange juice, she places them on the table. But feeling the sticky remains of their connection dripping down the inside of her thigh and pressure in her belly, she pauses before she kneels, and stares down at her fingers blushing. God, she needs to get over this.

“Sir? I need… Could you please take me to the bathroom?”

His lips twitch in a half-smile, and she blushes again. He wraps his hand around the back of her neck and walks her down the hall. She scurries to the toilet and sits, and her full bladder releases quickly. Sighing in relief, she looks up at him, and watches him pull paper again from the roll.

He kneels in front of her, though it feels different from last night. He wipes her gently then holds a finger up for her to wait. He wets a cloth under the faucet and returns to his knees in front of her. Wiping under her eyes and over her face, then down her neck and chest. She can’t help it when her pulse quickens and her lips part. He lifts her arms, bathing under them, then under her breasts. Down her stomach, he runs the cloth over the insides of her thighs then back, along her slit, cleaning her in the most intimate way.

He slips his fingers inside, the pleasure of feeling her obvious in his expression, before gripping her pussy firmly.

“This is mine. You are mine. Just tell me what you need. No more modesty. Do you understand?”

Her breath is ragged, his fingers inside her make her feel like she might burst into flames.

“Yes, Sir.”

She feels like she needs an orgasm, but wants vs. needs had been a big topic before they both decided on this step. She wants to please him, above all else. And these three days are to prove that.

He pulls her to stand, flushing the toilet behind her then shifting her toward the sink. He washes their hands together, pressed against her naked back and staring at her in the mirror. After drying their hands, he unties her hair so that the braid falls away and grabs her hairbrush from the counter. Gliding it from front the back, through her satin locks several times, she closed her eyes to revel in his touch. He’d told her she wouldn’t see this side of him unless she did things to warrant reward.

She has no idea what he could be rewarding her for in this moment.

When he stops, he wraps his arms around her and whispers in her ear.

“After breakfast, the rest of the morning is going to be rough. I need things from you and need to see that you can handle them. But I want you to remember why you’re here. To remember that I am this man too. To remember how grateful I am to have your submission. …And that I love you, sweetness.”

She stares into his reflection, feeling the precise combination of emotions he undoubtedly means her to feel. But he doesn’t give her the opportunity to respond, as he guides her back into the kitchen quickly.

As they eat, he explains to her that mealtime will always be her time to talk. A regular interval to communicate openly and to allow both of them to relax and enjoy each other. He will continue to feed her, for now, because it gives him the control he desires. And it will remind her of her submission.

She chooses to use the time this morning to tell him about her dream. When she finishes, he has a somewhat bewildered expression.

“What’s the matter?”
“I’m surprised that’s the topic you chose today..”
“I thought you liked to hear my dreams, Sir?”
“I do… indeed. I just thought you might have concerns… about today.”

Perhaps she should ask questions about his plans, though she doubts he’s going to provide details. She was very nervous yesterday, expecting a beating to rival anything he’d ever given her before, but yesterday taught her a lot about herself.

She is a masochist, and having offered her complete submission, she’d told him she didn’t want a safeword, any longer. He’d told her then that he was indeed a sadist, and wanted her to be sure before she gave up such an important protocol. Others in the community had talked to her about this too. But in all their scenes together, she’d never had to use her safeword. He’d always known when to stop, he’d never hurt her beyond her ability to absorb and process.

After that admission, she worried about being wrong. She feared what would happen if he did take it too far. However, the memory of his eyes lit up from her willingness to forego it… She wanted him to feel that kind of power and control, because it was obviously his dream come true.

But the concern that it was a mistake remained… Until last night. She realized that he knew her in a way that she hadn’t even known herself.

“I think what you are going to do to me today is teach me more about myself, Sir. I have a feeling you are going to break through more of my fears and defenses so that I can truly and successfully surrender myself to you. …Completely.”

She smiles, wondering how he would react to her touching him. She shyly decides to whisper her request.

“Sir, am I allowed to touch you during mealtime?”

His lips curl at the edges and he nods. She takes his hand and places it on her chest. Just holding it there, over her heart, so that he can feel the most important possession she’s already given him.

He finishes feeding her in silence, and after draining the last of her juice, she whispers that she is still thirsty. He rises to fill another glass with water and returns. After she drains the glass, he chuckles.

“I never noticed how much you drink. Are you always this thirsty?”

She blushes and looks down at the tile between her thighs, and remembering that she is naked, her cheeks redden further.

“Yes, Sir. But perhaps more so this morning.”
“After scrubbing down my kitchen… I watched you for a while earlier…”

She glances up at him, surprised. She hadn’t noticed him…

“I’m sure that was a sight.”
“Indeed, sweetness. Indeed.”

He sits and stares at her for several more minutes. She always wonders what he’s thinking about, he’s so taciturn. After another glass of water, he tells her to clean up, and disappears down the hall.

She does so quickly, even wiping down the kitchen chairs, then kneels in the same spot. Next to the head of the table.

When he returns, he’s dressed in jeans and a t-shirt, but no shoes.

He orders her to crawl into the garage, once more. And as she makes her way down the hall and over the threshold, she imagines him watching her ass the whole time.

In the garage, he pulls her to stand then cuffs her wrists to a spreader bar hanging from the ceiling which raises on a pulley. Then he attaches another to her ankles. His fingers skim over the bruises from his shackles, but his face gives nothing away.

Once her legs are spread, he raises the pulley more until she is stretched and on her toes. Stepping behind her, he twists her hair into a knot and secures it with one of her hairbands. He then steps over to the large table and holds up the gag, watching her. Her jaw aches from yesterday, and she prays he doesn’t make her wear it this morning.

He carries it over to her and stands directly in front her. The heat radiating off his body in the chilly garage feels wonderful… or perhaps it’s simply his proximity.

His face is inches from hers, and her heart races. He hasn’t kissed her in days. He told her the next time he did, it would be because he needed it. Oh, please need it now.

“I want to put this on you, badly, just to prove I own you. But I also know what kind of torture it must’ve been yesterday on your jaw… Instead, you are going to hold it, by the strap, in your teeth, until I take it away. If you drop it, you will wear it for the remainder of our session. You understand?”

Breathing in his scent, she literally drips onto the concrete floor below. I’ll do anything for you.

“Yes, Sir.”

He bends his knees so that his lips are fractions of an inch from hers. She closes her eyes, willing herself to expect nothing. Trust him. His breath mingled with hers is almost too much.

She feels him change positions and opens her eyes as he lifts the strap for the gag to her open mouth, positioning it between her teeth, and pressing her jaw closed with one finger. His expression is untelling, but not at all the sadistic smirk she expects.

She exhales deeply as he steps back and stares at her. No modesty. Standing before him, nude and spread open, completely vulnerable, she wonders how she might NOT feel modest.

He steps towards her again, but off slightly to her side and pinches her left nipple before twisting and pulling. She tries hard not to make noise, but it’s impossible not to whine when he produces a set of brutal clamps from his pocket and attaches the first. He follows suit on the other side and smacks both of her breasts, causing her to nearly open her mouth to cry out. She must concentrate on keeping her teeth clenched.

His hand skims down her belly and he smacks her sex with the back of his fingers. She closes her eyes with the second blow, and starts to focus on the feeling of clenching her aching jaw, in an effort to keep herself from writhing beneath his touch.

The blows grow more intense, then he produces a heavy flogger from somewhere. He spins her and begins swinging it in a back and forth motion across her buttocks and thighs, then up her back before travelling back down her legs.

The strikes begin to really burn as the strands bite her flesh. She cannot hold back the noise that escapes her throat with each searing hit. But she can process pain. And this is nothing she hasn’t experienced already.

Suddenly, he increases his speed and starts circling around her, hitting nearly every part of her body. When the flogger’s strands catch in the nipple clamps chain, the pull of her flesh is frightfully painful and she screams, but somehow manages to hold the strap in her teeth. He does it again and again, and she squeezes her eyes shut as she counts the blows.

Tears fill her eyes at 9, and start to fall at 12. But she goes silent, only grunting at each strike. Trust him. She’s nowhere near her limit. And she begins to feel the drift… That chemical reaction that changes the pain, turns it into something else.

“Not yet.”

His breathless growl makes her eyes flash open. He stares at her as he steps back to the table to drop the flogger and picks up a cane. God, no. She hates the cane, despises it.

Again, the look on his face is unreadable. Somewhere between dark desire and… uneasy anticipation?

When he steps back toward her, she stares at the thin wood rod. Her heart hammers so hard. He really does mean to push her. She’s only ever been beaten with a cane once, and it was a wicked experience. But when she told him about it, he believed it was the total experience that wrecked her. Not the implement.

He steps absolutely flush against her, tugging the strap from her mouth..

“I knew you could do it.”

Suddenly, he tosses the gag and wraps his fingers around her throat. He pulls her lips to meet his and scorches her with an intense kiss. She’s breathless and spinning when he releases her. He is also visibly affected.

“I know you’re scared. I know you have this built up in your mind as some sort of hellish experience, but I promise you, sweetness, I’ve dealt you far more pain with other things than I will with this. …I need you to trust me. …Do you trust me?”

His fingers have moved around her throat and are woven into the bun at the back of her neck. He pulls her head back again, and as her body arches against him, she reminds herself what he said earlier. And why she’s here.

“…Yes.  Yes, Sir. Implicitly. …No safeword.”
“No safeword.”

Staring into his eyes, all she can do is pray she isn’t making a mistake. Remembering her thoughts from yesterday, she tells herself the same thing, repeatedly. Trust him. I must trust him.

He strokes her cheek and steps away, the expression from earlier returning. She wishes she could figure out what he is feeling.

He walks behind her and begins rubbing her bottom. Down her thighs, then back up. He raises the pulley again so that she’s barely touching the floor, her weight is distributed between her toes and wrists. As his hand returns, but this time, slips between her thighs, she exhales deeply.

He had said long ago that he enjoyed watching her in that state of pure pleasure, then nearly overcome by pain, followed by that serenity that takes over when she’s able to change the pain or transcend it. But that there was something very satisfying about holding her between the levels.

His fingers weave their magic until she is panting and whimpering loudly. She wants to cum so badly, days without release has her completely on edge. She aches and drips and almost begs, but resolves not to speak, as that wouldn’t get her what she wanted anyway.

Then, the first blow hits her thighs. The second, across her ass. It stings just as badly as she remembered. Tears spring into her eyes, but somehow she manages not to cry out. Her almost orgasm is completely forgotten by the time he’s struck her six times. Then, suddenly, his hand slips around her front. One finger circling her clit, barely touching her, before two more strikes, hard and in succession cause her to scream.

He rubs her hard, the pleasure and pain breaking into her mind and scattering her thoughts. Three more blows make her scream again, then groan as his fingers slip inside her.

“Oh, Sir… Sir… please.”
“Who do you belong to, slut?”
“You, Sir. But please.”

Pulling free, he swings the cane back and it hits a new spot at the top of her cheeks. Oddly, she barely makes a sound, and is more desperate for the return of his fingers than for the caning to stop.

“Please, please, please.”
“No.”

When his hand returns, he starts all over again. Oh, it was a test. She bites her lips and absorbs the infuriating teasing, waiting for more. Of what, she is unsure.

He reaches for the chain attached to her nipples and pulls while simultaneously increasing pressure on her clit with his thumb and slipping two fingers into her sopping wet pussy. The pain is so intense, her nipples feel like they are hardwired to the nerves behind her eyes. But the pleasure is equally intense. Her body begins to send her mixed signals, and the pain in her breasts feels good.

This is the moment she loves. It hurts… so good. Every nerve ending in her body is alive and when he blows on her neck, she convulses but holds back, not allowing her body to defy him..

He lets go of the chain and turns her to smack her again with the cane. Four more blows that completely wreck her mind. She is lost in the synergy and doesn’t even make a sound. Five additional strikes only seem to deepen her stupor.

“Good Girl,” he breathes against her lips, but she still can’t open her eyes. “How much do you want to cum right now?”

As she tries to focus her mind, his fingers tease her further, while his other hand grips her burning ass painfully. She wants to, so badly. The ache of need courses through her whole body.

As his fingers push deeper inside, her eyes fly open. He lifts his other hand from her backside to her throat, wrapping his fingers around her and squeezing tightly, “You won’t though, will you sweetness? You won’t defy me.”

She can’t help but stare into his eyes. She focuses every ounce of her being on his fingers around her neck instead the ones pushing her towards the sun. She’s not sure if he expects an answer, but before she can decide, he pulls away completely, hissing, “Yes. My good fucking girl.”

Stepping behind her again, he picks up the cane and delivers several more blows. Then spins her around and bends to remove the cuffs at her ankles. As he stands, he unzips his pants and pushes them down, releasing his iron cock before grabbing her thighs and wrapping them around his waist.

Pushing into her slowly, he groans with pleasure before reaching up and grasping her throat tightly, pulling her lips his. Before he kisses her, he growls into her mouth, “Who’s slut are you?”

She exhales quickly, “Yours, Master,” trying to steel herself against expectations, but so hungry for more of his approval.

As he thrusts into her, again, he bites her lower lip and grips her ravaged ass tightly. She yelps, but then moans as his tongue slides against her own.

His hips buck into hers wildly, and she wonders how she can hold back. She clenches tightly around his shaft, causing him groan again as his mouth threatens to devour her from within.

Pushing and pulsing, he finally pulls his lips away, grunting and cursing as she writhes wildly against him. He still has not given her permission to climax, but she has transcended the need. Her only desire is to make him cum. Her only need is to feel his complete satisfaction.

“Fuck!” He shouts as he pours himself into her. She wills her body to still, somehow, but can’t open her eyes out of fear that she will climax at just the sight him.

He pulls out of her and holds her against his chest while unbuckling the cuffs around her wrists. Wrapping her arms around his neck, he walks over to a bench where he sits.

He holds her tightly, releasing her hair and combing through it with his fingers. His breath is still labored, but she thinks she hears him whisper, “Good Girl,” a few more times. He uncaps a bottle of water and holds it against her lips. “Drink baby.”

When she opens her eyes, and draws the liquid into her mouth, she wonders how it is possible that she isn’t feeling frustrated or pouty. All she feels is pride in herself. And a freedom she hadn’t expected. She closes her eyes again, bathing in the bliss of being his fuck toy.

“How are you, sweetness?” His gravelly voice wakes her from her revelry. “Are you in pain?”

She swallows and licks her lips, looking up again into his eyes, not caring if she’s supposed to or not. “Not much, Sir. But can I have some more water?”

One corner of his mouth curls as he presses the bottle to her mouth again. “Not too fast,” he whispers.

After she finishes, he strokes her hair as she rests her head against his shoulder. “Wasn’t as bad as you were expecting?”

“No, Sir. I am surprised that I’m not hurting worse.” Closing her eyes, she tries to absorb as much of this as she can, not knowing what the rest of the day holds.

She thinks he must realize this, because he simply strokes his fingers up and down her back, occasionally pressing his lips against her forehead. He says nothing, but his touch is the most soothing thing in the world.

When he tilts her chin up so that she will look into his eyes again, he bends to kiss her lips softly. “This is what you were missing the first time you were caned. You weren’t cared for. You were beaten and discarded. I will never do that to you… I love you, little girl… Seeing you surrender yourself completely to your worst fear…”

The emotion in his voice causes her to lift her fingers to his jaw. “I will do anything for you, Master. I am yours.”

His grin grows and his eyelids lower as he squeezes her against his chest, causing her to squirm. When he looks at her alarmed, she blushes and whispers, “I need… I need to pee, Sir.”

His smile changes, and the thrill he feels from his control over her is obvious. As he stands, carrying her across the garage, he chuckles and whispers, “Of course, sweetness. Then perhaps a bath, before the next part of your training.”

…to be continued.

To be owned…

Warning – This fictional story is about the breaking of a slave by a sadist via brutal bondage, sensory isolation, bodily function control, humiliation and kinky, rough sex. I’m really Pushing Limits with this one. Read it anyway… Let me know if you think I should continue it.

Day One

Her anxiety pulses through her body like ice water. Her trembling limbs are stretched in all directions by unforgivingly cold, iron shackles. Her eyes water beneath the weight of a heavy, wool hood strapped in place by a gag which presses her jaw open, just to the point of discomfort. She struggles to swallow behind the large ball held firmly between her teeth. She had consented, even begged for this experience, but her mind now bubbles with concern.

She hears nothing, the silence is intense. She knows he must still be there, as he promised not to leave her in bondage, ever. And she believed him. She trusts him.

Slowly, she tries to calm her breathing with that thought. I trust him.

It does not soothe the fear that now erodes her sense of self, though. If this is a mistake, she’ll never know. Because in the end, she will be forever changed. She knows that, and exhales a long, cathartic breath.

Suddenly, she feels his presence, and closes her eyes blindly as it washes over her like warm bathwater. Odd that she would feel relief in his proximity, knowing that he may do unspeakable things to her today. He hadn’t told her his plans, so the anxiety remained, only diluted by the hope of his tenderness. Though, she is sure what she will experience in the beginning will lack any tenderness.

Lying beneath his open gaze, she wonders if he will speak. What he might say. What his voice will sound like. What he will expect. Her heart races as her patience begins to wither. Will he simply keep her like this and watch her all day? Will it be like this every day?

The time spreads out through her. She twitches at every change in the air pressure. She flinches at every tiny sound. Is he still here? Perhaps her sense of his presence is incorrect. But that would mean he’s broken his promise…

In the cold darkness, she pulls at her restraints to hear some sort of sound. She can’t seem to fill her lungs fast enough. The hood feels like it weighs a hundred pounds but she shakes her head to see if it will shift so that she might see even a fraction of light. It won’t, the strap pressing the wet, rubber ball against her tongue holds it securely in place. The lump in her throat grows as her mind furiously spirals into a state of panic.

What if he has left? What if he’s driven away and gotten into a car accident? What if he’s had a heart attack and is dying in the corner of this garage as she lies here completely immobile and helpless? What if she dies like this?

Her sobs begin to echo through the dead silence. She tries to call out for him, desperate for any change in the stillness. She chokes on her efforts, pulling at her restraints and retching, almost screaming, until she exhausts herself completely. She knows none of these actions will change anything, and finally resigns herself to be still. I must trust him.

Time passes. The air seems to get colder for a fraction of an instant. But maybe it’s her imagination. She senses him again, though she doesn’t hear or feel anything. Her heart begins to race as his presence draws nearer. Chills break out across her naked flesh and she is oddly, very suddenly aware of her undress.

She hears a click, like that of a light switch, and then feels warmth wash over her skin. Her mind prickles with a different fear. Is it just him? Would he invite others to join him? She’d never asked. She should have asked. What if a stranger is watching her? No, I trust him. That trust is all she has.

“You need water. Do not speak.”

His voice is low and cool as his fingers lift her head and unbuckle the strap quickly. He holds a bottle to her lips and she tries to swallow as quickly as possible. It feels as though she’s been like this all day, and as she drinks, she realizes how thirsty she was. She desperately wants to ask him how long it has been and if he left her alone. But after pulling the empty bottle away, his fingers wrap around her throat.

“Your little fit earned you nothing. You’d be smart to remember that.”

Before she can even process his words, he presses the ball of the gag back into her mouth and buckles the tight leather strap. She feels the lump rise in her throat, the familiar feeling of unbidden tears burning her eyes. She remembers him telling her that crying is part of the process, but if she indeed, truly wants to submit, she would not struggle. Even in her fear.

Letting her tears fall, her breath exits in tiny sobs. But she doesn’t fight, she simply allows herself to feel his disappointment. Her fit was out of concern for herself, not for him. She is there to please him.

After some time, she realizes that he is still there. She isn’t sure how she knows, but she feels him. Especially when he is near her. Is he just watching her?

She has reached a state of true discomfort. Her arms and legs are pulled so tight. Her ankles and wrists feel chafed from the hard metal they are wrapped with. Her jaw aches and burns from the stress of the gag. Her eyes and nose itch beneath the hot wool that covers two thirds of her face. Her stomach is empty and she’s sure it’s angry requests for food can be heard.

And, she needs to pee. Making her bondage even more uncomfortable.

She hadn’t thought about this very human, basic need. She knew she could go only hours without water and maybe a day without food. She’d voiced these concerns ahead of time. Though, the only promise she asked him to make was not to leave her alone. What if he expected her to hold it? Or worse, relieve herself right there on his cold, wooden table?

She began flexing her toes in an effort to take her mind off it. It only helped a little.

“I’m guessing you are in desperate need of a restroom. The fact that you’ve been lying there suffering, trusting that I will take care of you is very pleasing.”

His fingers work the locks at her wrists as he speaks. During his languid trip to her ankles, his hand tweaks a nipple and slaps the other. The pain nearly makes her wet herself, but she remains silent. Scratching his fingers down her thighs, he finally releases her ankles then grabs her hand to help her rise.

She is unsteady on her feet and he uses his body to press her belly against the table edge. Directly against her bladder.

“I wonder if you can hold it while I fuck your ass.”

She begins to shake her head, but stops quickly, thinking that would be a huge mistake. She closes her eyes praying he did not notice. But of course he did.

Grabbing her by the back of the neck, he pushes her forward onto the table so her toes lift off the ground. Lying on her full bladder, she is sure her body is going to fail, and begins to cry. Determination, however, pulls her hands from beneath her to her backside, spreading her cheeks for him.

“Good. Girl.”

He rubs the tip of his erection up and down her slit. She had surpassed discomfort. Her belly aches from the pressure, and every muscle is strained. Her tears continue when she realizes she won’t be able to relax.

As he kicks apart her feet, she is able to shift her weight so the table hits above her navel. The pressure eases just enough to be tolerable but as he pushes into her, she is overwhelmed by different pain.

“Don’t piss on me. You will not like the punishment.”

She sobs as he begins thrusting into her ass. His grunts echo off the walls. She reminds herself how pleased he’ll be if she can bear this punishing fuck. Remembering his disappointment earlier fuels her eagerness. I will not fail.

As he nears climax, she chants that thought in her mind, no longer sobbing. Instead, she focuses on his thrusts and the pain they cause, to tak
e her focus off the other pain.

Upon his completion, he pulls her up with his cock still in her ass and reaches down her front to feel her pussy. To confirm she hadn’t let go.

“I didn’t think you could do it, slut…”

Pushing her back down, he pulls out of her quickly. She hears his zipper before he grabs her neck once again.

As he pushes her through a door then down onto a freezing toilet seat, she exhales waiting to hear a door close. Instead, she feels his fingers releasing the buckle of her gag.

This time, he pulls off the hood as well, and she squints until her eyes adjust to the light. He is holding a bottle of water to her lips. How is she supposed to pee while he stands there watching her, expecting her to drink.

Trust him.

She closes her eyes and tilts her chin back while forcing her pelvic muscles to relax. After several swallows, he pulls the bottle away but remains. She realizes he’s waiting for her to finish relieving herself, and her face heats with humiliation.

Forcing herself to empty her bladder as quickly as possible, she tries to cover her face with her hands. He yanks them away quickly.

“Don’t make me tie you. You will have no privacy from me. Ever.”

Tears prick her eyes again as she frowns at the notion. He had warned her several times that slaves do not have privacy. He’d even made her repeat it. How could she not realize that meant no bathroom privacy? As she realizes this means she’d also have to do other toilet related things in front of him, her cheeks flame red hot again. But she successfully fights the urge to cover her face this time.

When she finishes, he doesn’t even allow her toilet paper before pulling her up and pushing her into a tiny shower stall. Turning the faucet and pulling a small hand sprayer off the wall, she knows immediately that this too is going to be uncomfortable.

The water is so cold that it stings. She squeals before clapping her hands over her mouth to silence herself. She’s not supposed to look at him, but her eyes involuntarily shift to his mouth when she hears him chuckle, lightly. His lips are curled in a sadistic grin, but she drops her gaze before risking allowing herself to look into his eyes.

Closing her eyes and dropping her hands, she tries again to prove her submission. He turns and shifts her, spraying every inch of her body until she is shaking from the cold that has now seeped into her bones.

When he turns the water off, she stands shivering for several moments before she opens her eyes, staring at the floor.

He steps toward her, holding the water bottle to her lips again. She’s so hungry, but has no inclination that he might feed her today. She can see a few inches of night sky through the closed blind on the tiny bathroom window. And as she drains the bottle dry, her stomach rumbles once more.

She continues to shiver as she watches him twist the plastic cap back onto the empty bottle. Her tears begin anew, sparked by the complete bewilderment of what he plans to do with her at night. She was growing more and more sure that he wouldn’t allow her into his bed this night.

“I wasn’t going to feed you tonight. But I hadn’t expected you to do this well…”

His voice was hard and cool. She is so tired. Her entire body aches as she stands trembling and softly crying in front of him. He grabs a rough towel from behind her and dries her, almost harshly, showing no mercy to her over-sensitized skin.

“Maybe I should just feed you my ass coated cock.”

His growled words make her wince. But she thinks to herself, Please him.

She slowly sinks to her knees, her muscles and tendons screaming, increasing her tears. But when she reaches the floor, she spreads her legs open sitting back on her heels and opens her mouth wide. To be used.

She closes her eyes, trying to avoid his. She hears no reaction from him, but knows he’s still there. She hears the faucet flip on then off, then his fingers on the top of her head, sliding through her soaked hair before gripping her tightly.

As the tip of his cock touches her tongue, she nearly gags with the thought of what he did earlier with it. She didn’t have time to think about it too much because he was almost instantly fucking her face with such force that she was gagging, gasping and sobbing within seconds.

When his cum shoots down the back of her throat, unceremoniously, he holds her face still with both hands. She can’t breath but she can’t even lift her hands to try to push him away.

He finally pulls back and chuckles, tapping her lips

“Good girl. I’m happy you know what this is really for.”

His fingers dig into her jaw lifting her face. It hurts and her eyes flash open. She doesn’t understand the look in his eyes. But she now truly believes what she hadn’t several days before. He is indeed a sadist.

“Stand up. You deserve some food for that.”

As she tries, excited that she’s been able to please him enough to deserve a reward, her body fails her. As she falls backward onto her ass, he laughs and her face reddens once more.

She gathers all of her strength and pushes herself up to stand. She suddenly finds his arm around her waist, guiding her through the door. Her knees are so weak, as they step into the kitchen and he lets go, they fail and she’s on all fours.

“Crawl over to the table then, weakling.”

She follows his command, wondering why she is so weak. All she did was lie on a table all day. She’d expected to have been beaten, mercilessly. But it occurs to her that being beaten wouldn’t have had the same effect on her. That kind of pain she can absorb and process. What he put her through today tore at her natural defenses. That was the point.

Kneeling next to the table, she can barely open her eyes, but glances at the clock above the sink. It is only 8:40.

She lets her eyes close as she listens to him moving around. The room is filled with a delicious smell… soup or stew? When she hears him in front of her, she opens her eyes. He pulls out a chair and sits, completely naked before her. Had he undressed before.

Popping a spoonful of his meal into his mouth, he reaches down with his left hand and pinches her nipple. She looks up at him, but quickly looks back down. His legs are spread before her and his cock is beginning to harden again. From looking at her? From that one fractional second of touch?

He takes another bite then reaches for both nipples, pinching and pulling. She winces and whines quietly, but thrusts her chest into his demanding touch.

She senses his smile but the only thought swirling in her brain is, Please give me food…

He pulls her closer, tips her chin back and brings the spoon to her lips.

“You can look at me while I feed you. When you are like this, accepting and trusting, I will reward you. When you lose trust and faith in me, like you did earlier today, you’ll be treated with the same lack of respect.”

His words and voice are measured as he slowly empties several spoonfuls into her waiting, starving mouth. She watches his eyes, strangely feeling devoid of any thought other than thanking him for the meal. How could she thank him without words?

After emptying the first bowl, he pulls a glass to his lips and takes several deep draws of the Amber, iced liquid. He holds it to her lips, and she recognizes it as iced tea. After several gulps he pulls it away.

She looks down at his erection marveling at his body and it’s ability to recover so quickly. He chuckles at her wide eyes.

“Oh, you want dessert! You think you deserve it?”

Pushing a spoonful from the second bowl of stew into her mouth, his eyes are dark and possessed. Her brow creases and she lowers her eyes, shaking her head slightly.

He grunts before taking several more bites then pushing the bowl away. Staring down at her, he swallows the rest of the tea and sets the glass down slowly.

Then, in a flash, he turns her and pushes her face to fl
oor. Her arms spiral out to try to keep her steady, still on her knees, and before she even knows what’s happening, his cock is buried deep in her pussy.

With his fingers wrapped tightly around the back of her neck and digging into the flesh of her already aching hip, he drills into her, viciously, but her tears do not return.

This is what she wants. To be used… To be owned…

When he collapses on top of her, he whispers against her hair, exhausted and drained.

“Good girl.”

And the pleasure of hearing those words is beyond any other.

When he rises up off of her, she shifts back into a kneeling position.

“You can sleep right here, instead of the garage. Clean up the kitchen tonight and have breakfast ready for me by 7am. There’s bacon and eggs, I want pancakes. Understood?”

Glancing up at him, she doesn’t know how to respond. She has questions. Was she just to sleep on the floor? Couldn’t she sleep on the carpet in his bedroom, at least? What if she had to use the toilet?

He crosses his arms in front of his chest, glaring down at her, and she realizes that the last question is the only important one.

“…Sir?”

“Go on, but remember why you’re here.”

“I’m sorry, Yes, Sir. I just wondered if I’m permitted to use the bathroom…”

“If you NEED something, you may come into my room and wake me. No. You are not permitted to use the bathroom without me. But remember what we discussed about needs. And remember that I like my sleep uninterrupted.”

She almost smiles at the memory of some of their conversations in the weeks leading up to this. But finds the idea of waking him for permission to pee completely embarrassing. Better get it over with now.

“I… Sir, could you take me now?”

He arches an eyebrow and she realizes, again, she isn’t supposed to be looking at him. She drops her gaze and waits patiently for his response.

“Yes. Crawl, though. I don’t feel like watching you fumble to stand, again.”

Bending forward onto her palms, she follows him down the hall to the small bathroom. Once inside, she pulls herself quickly onto the toilet seat, her face burning with humiliation. She sits, staring at the floor, begging her body to just let go, this isn’t a big deal, everyone pees. But she’s always had a timid bladder.

He stands there, staring at her, and she can feel his frustration building. Finally, she forces the stream to start and exhales quietly in relief. Once finished, she looks around for the toilet paper, but it isn’t in the holder. She glances up at him, and watches him pull off a section from the tube in his hand. She lifts her hand to accept it, but he pushes it away and lowers to squat in front of her.

Pushing the paper between her thighs, he wipes her, drops the wad and slides two fingers inside of her, gripping her, roughly.

“This is mine. Everything it does is mine. Everything it is used for is mine. You get over this modesty and remember that.”

He pulls his fingers free and rises, leaving her achingly bereft. He washes his hands and waits. Her heart races as she lowers herself back to all fours and follows him back down the hall. When they arrive in the kitchen, he grabs another glass of tea, allowing her several swallows, before he leaves.

Watching him walk out, his words ring in her ears. This is mine.

She remembers their talks leading up to this. He’d told her that if she truly wanted to be his slave, she would no longer own her own body. Standing, shakily, she realizes how much better she feels since having something to eat. She’d love to have another bowl, or even finish the cold one sitting there on the table. But it wasn’t her stomach to fill…

Oh my… Her head was already changing. Fleeting questions pepper her mind, but she decides to concentrate on the job he’d given her.

After she finishes cleaning and prepares most of the ingredients she’ll need to make breakfast, she flips the light switch and lowers her achy, bruised body onto the spot he had told her to sleep. She curls up, trying to conserve body heat, and closes her eyes, praying she wakes at the proper time.

Sometime later, she feels him, his presence. She tries to keep her eyes closed, but she can’t help but investigate to see if her intuition is right.

He is leaning against the door frame in boxers, with his glass, staring at her. She looks up at him, jealous of the glass he’s holding, but unsure if she wishes she had the glass or if she wishes he was holding her. He pushes himself upright, strides over to her, and kneels down to press the glass against her lips.

She drinks nearly half before he pulls it away. Chill bumps sweep over her arms and legs as his thumb skims over her lips, wiping a drop of water from the bottom. And then he stands and leaves.

Closing her eyes again, she slips back to sleep with no idea at all what to expect from Day Two.

Part 2

Make me

Make me yours, the way only you can. I dare you, I beg you.

Make me feel your fire. Set me ablaze and sit back to watch me squirm.

Make me plead for mercy. Tease me until you can no longer resist.

Make me hope for the end and continuation, simultaneously.

Make me fear that you may never tire of the torture that I beg you for.

Make me yours.
Completely.

Make me obey.
Make me submit.
Make me surrender.

Make me.

The Drive

It’s late and we are only halfway through our drive. I’ve done my best to stay awake, but find my eyes simply won’t stay open.

I feel you look over at me before your hand slips lightly onto my bare knee. The hot humid air from outside is just barely made tolerable by the A/C and I’m grateful you told me to wear the shorter dress, even though I’m certain it wasn’t only for my comfort.

“I’m drowsy too, little girl. Stay awake and tell me a story.”

I force my eyes open and see the sleepiness in your eyes. But something else. That spark that makes me squeeze my thighs together and sigh. That expression that I simply cannot refuse.

“Yes, Sir,” I whisper, straightening myself in my seat before turning toward you. I lay my temple against the headrest and watch you, thinking about the story I might tell.

I know the kind of story you want, and my mind spins with ideas, but when your sad eyes capture mine, your gaze is like an antenna. Your story rolls off my tongue as though it had been waiting for release.

A heady mix of lust and passion with a hint of suspense and a dash of mystique bubbles up from that place deep inside me that you seem to access so easily.

I’m excited by the words I’ve woven for you. Your raspy sighs hint at your own arousal as well, and soon, your fingers skim upward from my knee, slipping beneath the hem of my cotton dress. My legs part, in their own submission to you, and I wonder if my body will ever listen to me in your presence.

As you reach the sheer fabric between my thighs, the low rumble from your throat signals your awareness of my wetness.

“Take them off, little girl. Let me see what’s mine.”

My whole body responds to your voice. Your words. Your ownership. I slowly raise my skirt over my hips and watch you suck in a breath at the sight of my sweet, lace edged panties with the satin bow in front. I slip my thumbs beneath the strings on either side and lift my bottom so that I can slide them down my now quivering thighs.

I start to leave them around my knees, but you whisper for me to give them to you, eliciting another surge of arousal from deep within me.

I tug them down, pulling my bare feet through them and fold them before placing them in your waiting hand, blushing furiously. Lifting them to your nose and inhaling deeply, the heat in my cheeks increases and I drop my chin to hide my embarrassment.

After stuffing them into your pocket, you lift my chin and growl, “So sweet, baby doll. …Now show me.”

Again, my thighs part and I lift my hem. The interior lights in the car are barely enough to see by, but my skin is clearly damp. I watch you intently. Will you tell me to touch myself? Will you reach for me? Will you simply force me to remain like this, exposed, for the rest of the trip?

You look up at my face which must give away my thoughts, because you chuckle softly and pat my knee, turning to watch the road. I let out a soft sigh and grip the edge of my dress in frustration. I try closing my eyes to quell my thoughts of taking matters into my own hands.

I may enjoy discipline, sometimes, but I don’t relish willfully disobeying you.

When I feel the car slow and turn off the highway, I lift my eyelids to look at you, but not out the window. Are you too tired to continue? Too aroused? Are you stopping for a hotel? You grin at me and nod your head toward the windshield as we stop completely.

We are looking out over a small city, on the edge of a large hill. It’s a beautiful sight, the twinkling lights off the town below us, against the starlit evening sky. The clearing is small, but we aren’t far from the highway. I look back into your eyes, “Where are we, Sir?”

You do not answer. Instead, rolling down the windows and switching off the ignition before unlatching your seatbelt and turning toward me with clear motive written all over your face. Your fingers unlatch my own belt, sliding over my belly and leaning in closely so that I can feel your warm breath on my face.

I start to pant, your proximity turning me into a bubble of desire just waiting to be popped. The night breeze blows through the car and across my naked flesh making me open myself wider.

“My little slut…” You whisper before teasing my mouth with your own while your fingers slide up and down my wet slit. I moan and arch, still gripping my hem. Your beard tickles my chin and I sigh deeply as your lips glide over my jaw.

My ass is practically off the seat as my body invites you in, to explore, to invade, but your fingers still torment, barely skimming my slick folds. “Please, Sir… More?” I whimper.

“What do you want, little girl?” Your voice in my ear sends tremors through me, before you gently nibble down my neck, the fingers of your right hand tugging down the strap of my sundress.

“Oh, please, Daddy. I don’t know…”
“That’s right, sweet girl. But, I do.”

Your teeth sink into my shoulder just as you slide two fingers inside me. “No orgasms without permission,” you growl as my muscles clench around you. How do you know? How is it you understand my body better than I do?

As you grip my pussy, with two fingers inside and your palm grinding against my clit, your mouth seems to be everywhere but where I want it. On mine. I let go of my skirt and lift my hands to your cheeks, but you pull back and give me that look. The one that makes me say, “Yes, Sir,” even when you’ve given no command.

“Tilt your seat back, then sit on those impatient fingers of yours, baby girl.”

As I obey, you pull down the front of my dress, the ruched top giving you plenty of access. I’m already moaning when your lips find my nipple, digging my fingernails into the backs of my thighs to keep my hands from wandering again.

Just when I’m sure I can’t take anymore, your lips make their way back to mine and you grip the back of my neck tightly, kissing me hard and thrusting your tongue against mine.

I feel myself teetering on the edge of orgasm when your fingers wriggle inside me and your thumb presses against my clit before circling, slowly. “Oh, God…,” I groan into your mouth and you pull back watching me.

I stare into your eyes, trying to decide if I should beg or let go, and suffer the repercussions. You smirk at me and pull your hand away. I whine and lift my ass in the air again, trying to will your return.

You kiss me again, then lean back, licking my juices off your fingers. Settling back into your seat, you unzip your jeans and pull out your delicious cock. “You cum, when I cum,” you whisper, stroking yourself lightly.

I climb onto my knees, licking my lips, not caring if I climax at all, anymore. I only want to taste you. Forever, your cum slut.

I start to bend toward your lap, but you stop me, wrapping your fingers around my throat and pulling me to your lips one more time.

After a kiss that takes my breath away, you hold me there looking behind me. “You’re being watched, pretty girl.”

As you let go, I look behind me and see a couple of young men staring at us from the tree line. They are holding beer cans, and appear to be accustomed to it, but look too young to be drinking. Clearly, this is a teenage party spot, and I look back to you for instruction.

My cheeks are blazing, as I already know what you are going to say, “How about a performance, little girl?”

“Yes, Daddy,” I whisper. I’m not sure what you have in mind, but the humiliation I feel only serves to increase my arousal. I want you to show me off, even if it is in the most embarrassing way a girl could ever imagine.

“Good girl,” you breathe, and my body convulses with those words.

You step out of the car, walking around it slowly before opening my door and pulling me out with you. The clearing is grassy, which is a relief to my feet, and very quickly to my knees, as you push me down in front of you.

You don’t acknowledge the boys at all, who are now wide eyed with mouths agape. I look up at you, while sitting on my feet, and grin, my cheeks still burning. My breasts are still exposed, as is your cock, and I’m sure neither of those young men have seen much of either.

“May I suck your cock, please, Sir?”

I smile at your grin and nod, but want you to speak. I want them to hear your Dominance.

“May I use my hands, Sir?”

“On yourself, sweet girl. While I fuck your pretty mouth.”

I lift my skirt, so they can see me slide my fingers over my bare pussy and one of them drops his beer. I slide my middle finger deep inside and moan before opening my mouth and leaning forward to press my tongue against you.

I look up at you again, sucking and swirling your head before sliding onto you and pulling back slowly as a hiss escapes your lips. I open my thighs further and moan as I deliberately release your cock from my lips and glide my tongue down your length to the side of your sac.

“Yes, baby, lick my balls,” you groan, lifting your cock up your belly and stroking it while I lathe your underside and suck each side into my mouth, lightly swirling my tongue around them.

“Fuck,” I hear one of the boys mutter as he rubs himself over his shorts. When I glance over at them, they both look aroused, but there is something different about the boy in jeans.

Gazing back up at you, I rub myself lightly and open my mouth wide as you grab the sides of my head and push yourself into my mouth. Slowly at first, but I see that you are about to do exactly what you said, and pull my hands up to your thighs.

“Pinch those titties, little girl, like I would.” As you slowly push yourself deep into my throat, I cup my heavy breasts and squeeze my nipples tightly, groaning against your shaft.

After a few long strokes, you slam into my tonsils and hold me there. I swallow, trying not to gag or gasp, and you grunt at the sensation, before pulling back and fully fucking my mouth.

When you stop, I look up at you, expectantly, all but forgetting our audience. I want your cum, and feel disappointment fall over my face until you growl, “Up on the hood, I need to fuck you.”

Oh, yes! I’ve been aching to be filled by you all day. When I don’t stand fast enough for you, you grab my arm and yank me up, against you, and I rise to my tippy toes, hoping you’ll kiss me. Show those young men that tasting yourself on your girls lips is wonderful.

You do, and lift my dress to squeeze my bare ass cheeks. Your kiss is intoxicating. I wrap my arms around your neck and you lift my bottom, so I wrap my legs around you too. You slide your beard across my neck and whisper in my ear, “Being wrapped in you is the best part of this performance, baby doll… So far.”

I smile against your cheek, and sigh with pure bliss. When you set me on the hood, you unwrap yourself and step back. I feel so exposed, my face heats up again and I start to close my legs.

“Uh-uhhh, sweet girl. Open up,” you rumble, and when I do, you slap my pussy three times. I lean back thrusting myself forward, and you growl, low and deep, “You wanna show these boys what a pain slut you are, my bitch?”

I nod at you, panting and within moments, you have my arms folded behind me, pull my dress up over my head holding them in place, and are pushing me back to lie on them. You pull my hips toward you and lift my feet to the edge of the car, so that my pussy is spread, wide open, for anyone watching.

I look back at the boys, and the one in jeans has his dick in his hand, but is just holding it, staring at us intently. The other one is vigorously working his own erection, inside his shorts, and is sweating profusely.

The first couple swats land lightly and quickly on my lips, and I feel my arousal splatter on my thighs. “You are so wet, dirty girl. Just from sucking my cock!” You rub my clit for a moment and I start to writhe. “Such a little slut, you want more?”

“Yes, Daddy, please?!”

The boy with his hand inside his pants has pulled himself free, and is grunting hard. “Hit her again,” he says softly, and you smile broadly, still not acknowledging them fully, but you pull back and smack my clit hard, making me cry out, then moan loudly as you rub me, wildly. I could cum, and think I might, but will myself to hold it in.

“More?” I know you’re asking them, so I look at them and nod my head.

The kid in the jeans is still just staring, but the other shouts, “Yeah, fuck yeah. Then fuck her hard.”

You spank my pussy until my thighs threaten to close then you thrust your cock inside me. I almost can’t pay attention to the boys, anymore. My body is losing the battle to prevent climax. I look at the boy in the jeans, hoping to distract myself, and he sees me staring.

Are you ok? He mouths, and I gasp, “Yes! Please let me cum, Daddy, please?!?!”

You don’t answer, so I look back at you, you are shaking your head no, but whisper, “Cum, baby girl. Make it look good.”

My body convulses with pleasure that I’m sure these young men could not understand. I cry out and let my voice do what it will as wave after wave hits me and shoots through me. When they turn to after shocks, I look up at you and try to fill my face with apologetic concern. You’ve stopped and are watching me.

“I’m so sorry, Sir. I couldn’t stop it!”

“You are a bad little girl,” you smile, pulling out of me, “turn over.”

I do the best I can, with my arms bound behind me, you have to help me. You pull my legs down so that my toes touch the grass, and slide your fingers across my ass.

With my cheek pressed against the hood, I look back and see the concern in the one boy’s eyes, so I say, in my sweetest voice, “Spank me, Daddy. I deserve it, I want it.”

You chuckle, and I’m sure they hear it, and can tell it is an act now. As I stare at the boys, you begin, striking me hard enough to make me flinch, but not cry out. The boy in the shorts shoots his load, and I get a strange sense of satisfaction from that.

The boy in the jeans just glares at me, hard cock in hand.

Your fingers dip between my thighs, and the pleasure closes my eyes. I want your cock inside me, and I want that boy to see that. So I beg.

As you continue punishing my ass and teasing my dripping cunt, I beg and plead for your cock and your cum. When you finally slide into me, I think I might explode, but hold it together until your thumb pushes into my ass. I come apart, my juices dripping down my thighs, and the car, and I feel your hand come down on my ass again.

I think I hear one of the boys speak. I open my eyes to see the boy who blew his wad stroking himself again. Hard again so quickly, oh, sweet youth.

The boy in the jeans is stroking himself, now. And I watch him intently while you drive deep and hard into me. You lean down over me and whisper, “You like being watched, don’t you, little one?”

Before I can answer, you pull me up by my hair, sliding out of me and spinning us, so I’m facing the boys. Completely exposed, you wrap your hand around my throat and lift me so your cock presses between my cheeks. I feel you bend your knees while gripping my hip and pushing into my ass. Filling me painfully, but blissfully.

“Cum again, for them, sweet girl.”

I’m panting with some crazy blend of discomfort and pleasure. You pull my dress off my arms, lift my left hand around the back of your neck and then glide my right hand between my thighs.

My mind is spinning, my eyes are locked with the boy in the jeans, but I’m frozen.

Until he mouths, Touch yourself.

You whisper in my ear, “Do it,” and I swim in the exotic feelings coursing through me.

I stroke myself in rhythm with my young voyeur, and he quickly catches on. Speeding up and slowing down to see what he can do. I wonder if he will become addicted to the power of this moment, and perhaps that is how a dominant is born.

When your fingers find my nipples, my eyes close, and the young man says calmly, “Open your eyes. Look at me.” Again, I start to turn to you, unsure about accepting orders from another man, but you hold my head firmly and whisper, “Do it,” again.

You begin to move inside me, and the odd sensation makes me bleary eyed, but I blink rapidly to focus on this boy whom I suddenly, and desperately want to cum for. Because you will it.

“Push a finger inside.” I do.

“Two fingers.” I do.

He tells me how to touch myself, to fuck my pussy, to lick my fingers, to pinch my nipples… And as his confidence grows, he steps closer and closer, but never over reaches.

When he’s five feet from us, I feel you tensing and he sees it, taking a step back. He looks at you and whispers, “How do I make her cum?”

I feel you smile against my ear, before you push my fingers away and say softly, but loud enough for him to hear, “If you are in command, and she feels it… If you make her feel safe and protected… If you give her your heart and she gives you her body… And she’s in the right frame of mind, you just tell her to.”

You kiss my neck and press firmly against my clit before growling against my ear, “Cum for Daddy, baby doll!”

It takes no more than that, I’m on fire from watching him and listening to you, and that fire erupts. An orgasm rips through me as you grip my pussy while thrusting yourself in and out of my ass. At the height of my orgasm, you whisper in my ear to beg for his cum.

When I don’t immediately respond, you tighten your grip on my throat, and I open my eyes to see the young man standing only feet in front of us. He’s panting and watching me, but not your fingers continuing to work my pussy or my heaving chest. He’s starting at my face.

“Beg for it, precious,” he grunts as he squeezes the head of his dick, and I suck in a deep breath. He’s a natural.

“Please, Sir. Give me your cum.”

With those words, you pull out of me, whispering, “Good girl,” and push me to my knees.

With both of you in front of me, I close my eyes and stick out my tongue, waiting for the shower. I rub my clit, already on edge just from the thought of all that fluffy, white seed. You know I’m a cum slut, and I bet you planned this, though I’m not sure how.

As the first ropes hit my chest, another climax rocks through me. I feel your cum hit my tongue and then the head of your cock. I open my eyes and look up at you, sucking and licking every drop of your essence. When I pull back, the young Dom is looking down at me with a smile on his lips.

He reaches out and strokes my hair. “Good girl.”

I smile sweetly at him before remembering the other boy and looking around for him. I see him, passed out against a tree, dick still in hand. I giggle and you both chuckle at me.

After attempting to clean me up with napkins and tissues from the car, you help me slip my dress back on, but don’t give me back my panties. I smirk at you and consider asking for them, but decide to let you play your game, hoping it means more fun when we get home. And it’s so hot and sticky, I look forward to the cool, conditioned air in the car blowing up my flirty skirt.

The young Sir starts to walk away, but turns back towards me. “Do all girls like this stuff?”

“More than you’d think. I think you’ll know, you’re a natural Dominant, Sir,” my voice drops, as I suddenly feel embarrassed.

You sit me in the car and buckle my belt for me. “You are amazing, sweet girl. Close your eyes and rest for a minute…” Kissing me and slipping your fingers beneath my dress, you grip me firmly. “This is mine, and mine alone. But what you did for that kid tonight will change the next few years, if not the rest of his life.”

I smile and blush, thinking all I did was everything you said, …and then I understand.

After talking with him for a moment and checking on his friend, who’s starting to wake, you climb in beside me.

As we pull away to continue the drive, you reach for my knee again.

“Don’t fall asleep, little girl. It’s my turn to tell a story…”

On Guard

Treasures have to be protected by ALLUREandDESIRE via DeviantArt.com
Treasures have to be protected by ALLUREandDESIRE via DeviantArt.com

I’m on guard, with every word, thought, and look.

Protecting me,
Pointlessly… Hopelessly…

Defending my body against the need you create within.

Taunting me,
Anxiously… Longingly…

Your deft fingers could render my mind vacant, in mere moments.

Coercing me,
Lusciously… Delvingly…

Your sweet lips could melt me into a quivering mess.

Loving me,
Sensually… Softly…

Your delicious tongue could send me throbbing and writhing into heaven.

Tasting me,
Luxuriously… Temptingly…

Those strong hands could push me beyond the limits of time and space.

Marking me,
Painfully… Achingly…

That extraordinary cock could fill me and drill me to perfection.

Driving me,
Severely… Passionately…

Your hot, salty cum, could be bliss on my tongue… or skin… or leaking out of my used, little holes.

Searing me,
Decadently… Languidly…

My defense against you is rendered pointless, with a simple command,

Controlling me,
Exquisitely… Distinctively…

My guard is little more than my own hungry hands, because I truly want you,

To take me.

Willfully. Prevailingly.

 

 

 

Moonlighting, Part Five

To catch up on the whole series, click here. This is the final installment. Let me know what you think!

“Chelsea, what I want is to take care of you. I want to give you the life you deserve. I want to help you accomplish everything you have ever wanted to and I want you to help anchor me, make me a better man, and turn my world upside down, over and over again. I want to love you the way you have always deserved to be loved…

“I’d like you to move in with me. If you need some time, or need me to court you, …I’ll give you anything, sweet girl. But my goal will be to own you and have you near me always.” Pulling me into him, he stares into my eyes and whispers against my lips, “Tell me, little girl, how to make you mine.”

My heart feels as though it might stop. I can’t answer because I simply cannot believe this is happening. A subconscious fantasy turned reality… in mere hours?!

While my mind is swirling, I suddenly remember, “I told Rachel I would check back on her!” I bolt upright and glance at the clock. It is nearly 11. I can’t stand going back on my word, and I don’t want her to sleep on the couch. I start to get up, then wonder if I need permission. I look back and forth between him, the clock and the door, unable to form words.

Master begins to chuckle as he sits up as well. Taking me by the shoulders, before wrapping his arms around me, he kisses my hair and says softly, “Stop spinning, little one. Please go get dressed, go check on Rachel and come back.”

Such a simple command, but, with such a huge affect. My mind clears, my pulse slows, and I feel completely quieted, like he just wrapped me in a soothing, warm blanket.

Had I always needed to be given orders? Was that part of my problem with anxiety over the years? Or did he create that need within me?

As he pulls away, I stroke his cheek with my fingers and search his eyes for the answers. What I find is peace. It doesn’t matter, I simply need to surrender.

After a moment, I move to stand and he follows me before grabbing my wrist and pulling me back into his arms. I sigh against his lips as he kisses me, and wonder if he wants to see if I’ll pull away. I wonder if he’s testing me.

I wrap my arms around him, deepening the kiss, and allowing my eyes to close. When he releases me, softly and sweetly, he whispers, “Don’t be long, little one. If you are gone more than 30 min., I will have to come collect you.”

He gives me the most delicious grin and I feel my cheeks heat, he was testing me. Exerting his dominance over me in a new way, to see how I’ll react. That smile tells me I passed the test.

He spins me around and swats my naked and wickedly bruised bottom towards the door. I wince but giggle and run to the kitchen to collect my clothes. As I dress, I think about everything that has happened tonight and wonder if I can discuss it with Rachel. I could use a confidant, someone to help me sort through things. Perhaps I shouldn’t discuss Master, though… without permission.

As I slip into my jacket and check my reflection in the dark glass of the upper cabinets in the kitchen, I realize, she is going to ask. It’s late, my cheeks are far more flushed than usual, and, well, Rachel just has an intuition about these things. The conversations we’ve had regarding Master and my questions about submission had always come from her perceptions of my desires.

Running my fingers across my lips and staring into my own face, I simply couldn’t think what I would tell her if she asked what happened.

Suddenly, Master’s arms circle me from behind and his lips find my ear. “Are you stalling for a reason, little girl?”

I look down at his hands and smile at the return of that soothing relief. That feeling of surrendering the decisions to him.

“What should I say, Master, when Rachels asks about my night?”
“You want to discuss it with her? You two have become close, haven’t you?”
“Yes, Sir. I… I want to sort through my feelings with you, but…”
“Go on, sweet Chelsea,” he turns me in his embrace so that we are facing each other.
“I have shared a lot, with Rachel, already, Sir.”
“I have, too,” he whispers, smoothing my hair from my face and smiling.

I smirk at him, realizing this internal struggle is just silly. Surrender. “May I discuss it with her, Master?”

The tender expression that I suddenly recognize washes over his face. Oh, my… It is love. He kisses me softly and whispers, “Yes. Discuss whatever you like with Rachel. Whatever you need to do to answer my question, little one.”

As I make my way into Rachel’s apartment, I feel the goofy grin on my lips, but can do nothing to rid myself of it. She’s lying on the sofa with her eyes closed, so I make my way inside as quietly as possible.

“Ya don’t have to sneak around, I’m not asleep,” she says, actually sounding better than earlier. “Some fantastic lady made me soup that has some kind of magical, healing power to it.” She laughed, before falling into a coughing fit.

“Obviously, it didn’t work THAT well,” I giggle and rush to bring her a glass of water.

She looks at me as I hand it to her, and her lips curl in a devious smirk, “He finally told you!!”

“Told me what?” I try to be coy, but I’m a terrible liar.

She rolls her eyes at me and drags me to sit next to her. “Come on, Roni, spill.”

I freeze, hearing her call me that name. She knows me as Veronica. Marie knew me as Veronica.

Martin knows me as Veronica.

“Hey! You were just smiling and now you look like…” As tears fill my eyes, she can’t finish.

I stare at my hands in my lap and think about pretending to be Veronica all this time. Wondering how little of Chelsea is in her. Martin might think he loves me, but has he really gotten to know me? Even if Veronica is who I’d love to be… It is still just pretending.

“What’s going on? Why are you crying?” Rachel pushes my hair back so she can see my face, before grabbing the tissues off the table.

“Yes. He told me. Martin has asked me to be his. Me alone. But you just reminded me… I’m not sure he even really knows me.” I grab one of the tissues and wipe my eyes. When I turn toward her, the confusion in her face makes me continue.

“My name is really Chelsea. I was married when I started… coming here. Martin thought the fake name would make it easier for me. But I just realized… Rachel, I’ve been pretending to be someone else. How could he know that he wants me when he doesn’t really know me? He turned his life upside down for someone who doesn’t exist!”

I drop my face to my hands, sobbing, “Fuck.”

Rachel remains quiet for a few moments before laughing softly. I look up at her, startled, and she laughs harder.

“Oh, geez, Chelsea. Just think about that for a second, would you?!” She grabs my shoulders, turning me toward her, “For the last few months, because of this ‘pretending’, you’ve been happier than you were for years before. You told me so, two weeks ago. You told me that you wished you could have more than this. You told Marie you wished you could find a guy just like Martin.”

Sighing, exaggeratedly, she grabs a tissue, and wipes my cheeks. “What exactly did you pretend to be that you aren’t? What exactly are the differences between Veronica and Chelsea?!”

Trying to think it through only makes me more upset, because I can’t see the differences. So instead, I clear away Rachel’s dishes and used tissues from the table. Taking everything into the kitchen quietly and filling the kettle to make her more tea, I set out to wash the dishes, but sense her behind me.

“I’m just going to make you more tea and get you into bed. You need to rest, so you can get better, Rachel. You don’t need to help me sort out my love life.”

“Don’t you see, girl? Look at what you are doing right now! Serving me, to make yourself feel better! You ARE Veronica, Chelsea. You went searching for this act. You sought out a place where you could really be yourself. Where you could submit in the only way you felt comfortable with at the time. Now, you want more, but can’t get past the pretending?

“Being upset about Martin falling for the fake you is ridiculous! There is no fake you. It’s just you. The growing and changing Chelsea.”

I look back at her, those words sinking in like none that I ever could’ve offered myself. As I finish the dishes and the kettle whistles, I recognize how “serving” has always been the thing I turned to. When my marriage was failing and I simply could not do enough at home, I sought out this extra place where I could give of myself, because I needed it.

I smile at her and walk over to take the kettle from the stove. “I guess you might be right, Rach. It was never about acting, it was about finding myself.”

Staring at the door, I take the kettle off the heat. Rachel laughs at me again.

“Go!!!  I am perfectly capable of getting myself to bed, Ron– Chelsea. Go.”

Stepping out of her apartment, I contemplate telling Martin exactly what happened. I think about what I might want out of this relationship. I wonder at how I can go from submitting once a week to every day, hour, and minute.

When I open the door into the foyer, and remove my jacket, I can’t imagine even wanting to go home, at this point. And when I turn to see him, wearing jeans and his undershirt, his natural body language filled with such… command, I am compelled to kneel at his bare feet. To submit to him.

After a moment, I steal a glance up at his face. His tender smile from earlier makes me blush. He reaches down and strokes my face before offering his hand. I take it, and he pulls me up and against him.

Kissing me hard and letting his hands explore my body, he whispers, “I want to fuck you again, little girl, so bad. But I need to know what you are thinking and feeling.”

I smile at the difference in the man he is with me. He was like this, after my punishments, even if he rarely spoke, but I never truly recognized that this was MY Dom. That the tender firmness was how he made me at ease and how he made me feel good. He is so different from Rachel’s and Marie’s Dom. Different, but the same in so many odd and exhilarating ways.

When he starts to drop his hands, I whine softly, “Please, Sir. Your touch is comforting. I have longed for it, without realizing it, for so long. Please, don’t let go.”

“If you allow me, I’ll never let go, little one.”

I giggle and smirk up at him, cocking my head to one side. Just then, I knew exactly what to say. Exactly how to answer.

“Ask me again, Sir? Please?”

“To be mine? How to make you mine?”

“Tell me to. That is all you need to do, Master. Tell me to be yours, and I will be yours. For as long as you’ll keep me.”

His face split into a smile that could have lit the room. “You want to submit to me, then. That is what you truly want.”

“I want to be yours. I want to serve you. I want to please you. I want to bring you pleasure. I want to give you my pleasure. And I want to, and will, turn your world upside down repeatedly. Because I know, you will always right it, quickly and with command. …I want your command.”

I become breathless, at my own words. The desires of my heart and spirit, so tightly intertwined with the desires of my body. “I really want your command,” I repeat, leaning into him, to feel his heat and his own desire.

He groans and bends his lips to mine but does not kiss me. “There is a lot more to discuss. Arrangements to be made. ideals to understood. Limits to go over… Lives to blend…”

“Tomorrow, Sir… Please?  For tonight, just take me… Accept my submission? Please, Master?”

He growls, pulling me hard against him, his eyes searing into me, and his lust scorching my entire body, drawing my own to the surface. “I do love the way you beg, sweet Chelsea.”

Lifting me as though I were nothing, he carries me into the bedroom. As we undress each other, it feels like the first time, all over again. I contemplate how long that feeling could last. But then, as he covers me with his body and enters my sore, swollen and used flesh, I feel a sense of him coming home.

He kisses me, and it feels like completion.

He strokes my body, and it feels like I’ve never been touched in my life.

He says my name, and it sounds like he is naming me, for the first time.

He moves, on top of me, and it feels like magnetism, as though we are always meant to be touching.

And as we slowly climb to the top of our climaxes, I cannot imagination ever experiencing bliss like that again.

Until he wakes me, at sunrise… to take me, again… to heaven.

Dancer

I finished my latest installment of the Dancer series on Hipster Intelligence Agency.

It is a story about Natalie, an eighteen year old, quite cocky and self confident girl, seeking Dominance without quite realizing it. She throws herself in the path of a handsome, but rumored playboy who quickly helps her see things in herself that she had never realized. And makes her want things she has never wanted.

It’s a pretty hot series, which I enjoyed writing a lot. I hope, if you haven’t already, that you’ll check it out.

Dancer
Dancer, Part 2
Dancer, Part 3
Dancer, Part 4

Let me know what you think!!

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Blackmail

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Reclining by MTJforever via DeviantArt.com

As I kissed Samuel goodbye, he pulled me down on top of him, giving me that sexy smirk that always gets me. “Don’t go yet, baby. If you stay, I’ll make it worth your while…”

“I have to go, Sammy. You know I do.” I stroked his scruffy cheek with my knuckles and stared into his sad, grey eyes. “Don’t look at me that way. I’m already on thin ice. If anyone finds out about us, I will lose my job.”

I pressed my lips to his and let his tongue slip inside my mouth. I loved his kisses so much, for a moment I almost didn’t care about losing my job. But a three figure salary is hard to come by, these days. Regardless of whether I was falling in love with my assistant or not.

As I pulled back, he held me tight. I sighed and touched my forehead to his, “Samuel…”
“I want to quit, Lex. If I quit, we can be together.”
“No. I won’t let you give up the tuition reimbursement you’ve busted your ass to get for the last 22 months. In a few more months, you’ll put in for a promotion and we’ll be free to do what we want. Let’s not fuck that up.”

Groaning his assent, he finally released me. After I stood, I stroked his cheek again, his soft, three days of growth tickling my fingers. “I love you, Sammy. We will be together… If that’s what you really want. But for now, let’s stick to the plan.”

He rose, enveloping me in his arms and bent to whisper in my ear, “We already are together, baby. You are mine, despite my inability to claim you publicly.” His breath trailed across my ear and down my neck before he sank his teeth into my skin, sending tremors throughout my body.

“Fuck, Sammy… You do know how to make a mess of me.”

His hand snaked up into my hair and he yanked my head back, “I’ve got to leave my mark somehow,” he growled before kissing me and pressing into me so that I could feel that I was making a mess of him as well.

If I’d allowed myself the moment to think, I would’ve made the smart decision.

But that night, my body and heart did not allow my brain that moment. As I pushed him back onto his couch, and stripped off my shirt, his delicious cock was the only thing on my mind.

He gaped at me for only a second before grabbing my hand and pulling me to straddle him. “God, I love you, babe,” he whispered in my hair while his hands explored my curves. “And if fucking you is the only way I can show it, I’m going to fuck you till you forget and then fuck you till you remember.”

And, that he did. When I woke, I was so sore, I wasn’t sure I’d be able to walk. Somehow, we’d ended up on his kitchen table and as I stood, I actually felt sure he had bruised my cervix. I had bite marks on my breasts and upper thigh. My head hurt like he pounded me into a wall… Oh, he did.

“Damn you, you luscious man,” I breathed, as I made my way to a cabinet to get some Motrin.

It was still early, but when I saw the time, I started to panick.

Samuel lived in the apartment building down the block from our office. Generally, I would leave my car parked in the garage, and walk down with a few coworkers to have a drink or two at this pub down the street. Before the others left, Samuel would take off, and I was almost always the last to leave. That way, no one had a clue what my plans really were.

I’d noticed the mail guy, Duane, was still there when I left a few times, but I knew he rode a bicycle to work every day, so he wouldn’t notice my car, still parked in the garage. Or so I thought.

I quickly dressed and tried to make myself look as though I hadn’t been fucked sideways for the last five hours. When I bent to kiss Sammy on the forehead, he mumbled something about my pussy, and I smiled at the thought of him having raunchy dreams about me.

Ducking out the side entrance of the building, as I generally do, I walked quickly up the alley. It was well before sunrise, and I practiced the lie I would tell if anyone asked about my car being in the garage all night. I searched my purse for my keys, but when I reached the end of the alley, I ran directly into the chest of that creep, Duane.

image
Brick wall by madguru via DeviantArt.com

He was tall and lanky, the long haired but nerdy type, but he didn’t flinch at all when I plowed into him. When I looked up, the grin on his lips seemed a lot like a sneer, and his eyes were positively alive with internal laughter.

“Ms. Reynolds,” he said in that gravelly voice that always made me uneasy. “What on earth has you out this late… Your studly assistant’s cock, no doubt.”

I feigned complete shock and disgust. “Duane, now, please. You know it is against company policy for me to fraternize with my assistant!” I was a pretty good liar. I’d gotten myself out of plenty of tight spots in my thirty something years. I wasn’t going to let this 28 year old dork bowl me over.

“I felt a little sick after I left the pub. One too many cocktails, I suppose. Samuel was kind enough to let me sleep it off, on his sofa.”

Duane chuckled and this time, his sneer was completely obvious. “Please don’t lie, Alexis. You definitely weren’t sleeping on that sofa with Sammy.” Just then, I noticed his phone in his hand. He turned it to face me, and I watched as the amazing sexcapades I had just revelled in, played out, in full color, on that little screen in his hand.

“I really would have thought the two of you would be smart enough to realize you were perfectly visible from the fire escape. I really would have thought that you, Alexis, would know better than to get into this kind of predicament.”

I stood gaping at him before snatching the phone from his hand. “Before you smash it, and have to replace it, that video is already attached to an email. A message that will be sent out to your boss in exactly two hours, unless I stop it.”

God, his voice was evil. I wanted to spit in his face. I wanted to run back up to Samuel and tell him to beat the loser to a pulp. I wanted to crawl in a hole and die.

“What do you want, prick? …A promotion? …Money? …Just tell me.” I could feel the tears starting to build. I was never any good at confrontation. I was even worse in desperate situations. “Just tell me, you can have whatever you want. Just leave Sammy out of it.”

He laughed loudly and suddenly grabbed me by the neck. His strength was so surprising that I was coughing and gasping before I realized my toes were no longer on the ground.

“I will have exactly what I want, you snotty, little slut. What I’ve always wanted! You don’t even remember, do you? Turning me down… Telling me you don’t date coworkers. You’re a forgetful little bitch, aren’t you. But now, you’re going to suck my cock whenever I want! I’m gonna fuck every hole in your pretty little body, and then, my friends are gonna pay me, so they can have a turn, as well.”

He set me back on my feet and backed me against the brick wall behind me. I clawed at his fingers, trying to free myself from his grip, but feeling something along with the fear that I didn’t understand. He pressed against me, and I could feel his erection rubbing against my belly as he loosened his grip on my neck. “Don’t fight me, Lex. It will be worse if you fight me.”

His breath in my hair made my skin crawl, yet not in repulsion. I still wanted to spit in his face, but I also wanted to lick it. When his hand left my throat and skimmed down over my breasts, belly and skirt, I tried hard to tell myself it wasn’t worth it. That Samuel and I would find new jobs. But when his fingers slipped under my hem and between my thighs, he breathed the words in my ear that made me incapable of saying no.

“Good girl… Do you agree to my terms? Or should I let the email go?” His fingers pulled my damp panties to the side before sliding up and down my slit. “God, you’re so wet, you little slut. Are you actually turned on by me blackmailing you?” His voice was softer, and I wanted to scream, ‘No, never, you disgust me, you fucking spineless pervert!’

But all that came out of my mouth was, “Yes, Sir.”

The smile that curled his lips was villainous. I hated my body for betraying me. It seemed to always betray me. He pulled his fingers from my pussy and licked them clean. All I could do was stare at him, nauseous and aroused at the same time.

“You and one friend. One time each,” I whispered, trying to hold onto some semblance of self respect.

“Me, as many times as I like, until your boy gets his promotion, and five of my friends… Once.”

“No… I can’t do five.” And then, I started to cry.

I hated myself with a passion in that moment. A moment when I needed to project strength and negotiate terms with this psychopath. Instead, I prove that I am just a girl. A scared, little girl. I covered my face and tried to take a few deep breaths to calm myself. When he peeled my hands away, I expected to see that awful, smug, sneer on his lips. But it wasn’t there.

“Two. Guys Samuel doesn’t know. He won’t find out, I promise.”

Whatever the change was, whatever my tears did to him, I wondered if I should try to press my luck, if maybe Duane really wasn’t the prick he’d been acting like. But then, the sneer returned, and he whispered, “And it starts today. I’m going to walk you back to your car and you’re going to suck my cock like the dirty little whore you are.”

I couldn’t say or do anything. I only nodded, trembling and having awful thoughts about what else he might do to me during the length of this arrangement. Awful, but exciting.

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I cried hard as we walked through the garage to my car, while he stopped the email from sending and supposedly deleted the video. I was sure he didn’t, and that he would watch it over and over, at his leisure.  The thought made me nauseous and uneasy, but imagining him pleasuring himself while he watched me get fucked nine different ways, was uncomfortably arousing. I was mortified, turned on, and ridiculously confused.

I wondered if he’d followed me before. If he’d watched, or worse, taken video of Samuel and I on different nights.  I thought back to a night, a few weeks before, when he’d pressed me against that stupid window to the fire escape and fucked my ass. I was so turned on at the time about the idea of someone out there watching… What if Duane had been out there that night, hiding?

When we got into my car, I sat back in the drivers seat, tears still flowing, and gripped the steering wheel for a moment. He turned, in the passenger seat, and reached toward me to wipe my cheeks with his thumb. “You can’t do this every time.” His voice was different, again. But his face remained hard. “Good girls don’t cry.”

How he knew the perfect thing to say, I have no idea. But the tears stopped. I sat baffled for a minute, wondering how this creepy, long-haired, messenger had weaseled his way into my head. I took a deep breath and leaned over him to the passenger automatic seat controls, pressing the seat all the way back so that I’d fit on the floor board in front of him. I reclined the back slightly, and stared into his eyes wondering what had made him like this. Hard and cold.

I hiked up my skirt and straddled him, realizing he’d gone soft and not wanting to suck on him any longer than necessary. I watched the concrete expression on his face disappear as I unbuttoned my blouse to reveal the pretty, hot pink bra that Samuel always loved. He lifted his fingers to skim over the fabric and I threw my head back at the thrill of his touch.

I started to rationalize that my attraction to him was simply a defense mechanism. My mind couldn’t handle the thought of this creep touching me so it tricked me into wanting it.

“Samuel likes to leave his mark, doesn’t he?” He breathing, his fingers trailing the bite marks he had given me earlier. Drawing my attention to them set my mind spinning again. With guilt, humiliation, and fear mixing with his touch and creating a heady cocktail swimming through me.

He pulled down the lace exposing my nipple, and immediately licked and sucked, while groaning his love of tits. I really didn’t want it to, but it felt so, fucking, good that I sighed and arched against his mouth.

I was grinding against his growing cock in no time. He felt very big, and I contemplated just asking if I could ride it. But after the ridiculous fucking that Samuel had just administered, hours before, I was pretty sure it would hurt. Maybe, the combination of pain and pleasure would be heavenly…

His fingers slid between us and under my panties. He teased my clit like he’d done it a thousand times before. I squeezed my eyes closed tightly, trying to pretend he was my Samuel. “Stop it, little girl. Look at me, and don’t pretend it’s anybody but me.”

My eyes flew open, and I couldn’t understand how he knew, how he was so deep into my mind that he could sense my thoughts. The look on his face erased everything, though. He was in ecstasy, making me writhe against his long, thin fingers and his obviously large cock, straining against his khakis. He slipped his other hand into my hair and pulled my lips to his.

I didn’t want to kiss him, but his tongue was like warm sugar and I couldn’t help but allow mine to dance with his. He bit my lip and breathed my air, all while his fingers grew more and more determined, kneading my clit until my climax was eminent.

“Fuck… No, I don’t want to cum with you!” I shouted, trying to wriggle away, but he didn’t let me. He rubbed and circled some more before whispering against my lips, “You’re a terrible liar, Lex. Fucking cum. Cum now.”

His words did me in, and I felt that luscious release. Wave after wave of unwanted bliss. He didn’t stop until I collapsed against his shoulder. His mouth found my neck, kissing softly up to my ear, “I want to fuck you.”

I’m not sure how, but within moments, he had freed his erection and ripped my panties clean off of me. He lifted me and I tried to brace myself against his shoulders, but my guesses had been completely accurate.

He was unbelievably big. It hurt like fucking hell. But it was some slice of heaven.

He was at least kind enough to be slow. As I gingerly allowed myself to be filled by him, lowering onto his massive cock, stretching me beyond what I believed possible, he stroked my cheek with one hand and gripped my ass with the other.

He whispered ‘good girl’, and ‘take it slow’. When I thought I couldn’t take anymore, he kissed me again and slid his fingers back to my magic button. I clenched, taking him in, deeper. I groaned, feeling him firmly planted against my bruised core, but each stroke of his fingers sent jolts through me, as though he were strumming an electric bass.

It was too much. My body hurt, having been wrecked, hours before. It should’ve rejected all pleasure. Instead, I was on fire. I needed to ride him and feel every, nasty inch of him moving in and out of me.

I began to rock and he groaned, rewarding me by slipping his other hand behind me and between my cheeks, pressing against my asshole. ”Yes, please!” I hissed, and he pushed his finger inside me.

I tossed my hair back and bounced up and down slowly until I felt my body making room for his complete length. When I felt myself sheathing him completely, I came again, hard. I bore down against the pressure, and sure enough, I rained all over him.

”Oh you nasty slut, did you just squirt all over me? Damn, you are as amazing as I thought you’d be! You must like being watched too…”

My eyes flew up, and I turned to see a short, bald garage security guy standing in the parking space twenty feet from my car, staring at us, through the passenger window. He was rubbing his crotch through his pants and it looked as though he’d been there a while.

Before the blush even filled my cheeks, Duane grabbed my hair and made me look at him. “Give him a good show, baby.”

He pulled me off, and pushed me to the floor while throwing open the car door to give the guard perfect line of sight to what Duane was about to make me do. ”Suck my cock, real good, and if our voyeur cums, I won’t sell you to anyone. You’ll be mine to have as I please, for the next few months, but I won’t make you be with anyone else.” I stared at him, stunned, until he added. “Hurry, Lex. You’ve only got till the sun comes up.”

I looked to the east side of the garage, behind the guard, and saw the sky brightening, quickly. I looked back at him, I could feel my cheeks flaming. As if oral sex with a massively endowed man weren’t hard enough, but he expected me to do it well AND look hot enough doing it to make some stranger blow his load? Just from watching?

I glanced back out at the guard and locked eyes with him. He licked his lips and nodded, hearing our conversation. God damn, this was humiliating. Really fucking hot, but… At least he wasn’t making me suck a strangers dick.

I grabbed Duane’s cock with both hands and started licking it like it was an ice cream cone. I added lots of moans, and gasps for the benefit of the guard. He had unzipped and was stroking his little thing like mad.

When I took the tip of Duane’s cock in my mouth, I looked up at him, and wondered why he’d ever need to blackmail anyone to get sex.

I wouldn’t have admitted it, but he was delicious. And the way he watched me… Fucking me with his eyes while I fucked him with my mouth. I completely forgot about the deal, and Sammy. I wanted his cum more than anything on earth. And being watched only made me want it more.

He grabbed the sides of my head, and started bucking his hips. I used my fingers to make up for three lack of depth to my throat. I tried hard not to gag, but was very glad my stomach was empty, because I was unsuccessful.

My saliva was dripping down my chin to his sack. I swirled my tongue around and around and pushed myself onto him further and further. I jerked the base of his cock and stroked his balls, rubbing my slippery spit back to his ass.

He started groaning and grunting, so I could tell he liked it. I heard our voyeur mutter, “Fuck, yes…” but didn’t look to see if he was already done. Duane spread his legs further and I slid my finger between his cheeks. “God damn…” He whispered, and I pushed against his ass. “God fucking damn.”

He let go of my head, and I sucked hard on the tip of his dick while I pushed my finger into his ass. In mere moments he was moaning and rocking, bucking and writhing, hissing and cursing.

I felt his cock throbbing against my tongue. I pressed my lips around him and used my hand to pump his shaft while I rotated my finger in his ass with the other hand. I could feel him resisting, which only made me more determined.

He was shaking, trembling, and growling, until he finally let go. Oh my, did he let go. Pulse after pulse of his sweet, thick semen shot down my throat. I sucked every drop and kept sucking until he stopped shaking.

He started laughing which startled me. I looked up at him and followed his line of sight while sitting back on my heels.

The guard was trying hard to clean his cum off the pavement with his handkerchief.

I didn’t think it was funny at all. Suddenly, I was even more humiliated. More than I’d ever felt in my life. I pulled myself out of the car, straightened my clothes and grabbed a bottle of water from the back seat.

“Please get out and let me go home now.” I couldn’t look at him or the guard. All I felt was guilt and regret.

He stood, pulling up his pants and staring at me, “It made you hot, before. Now, what? You feel violated?”

He stepped toward me, but I backed up. I was rubbing my lips, and felt like I would cry at any moment. He grabbed my hand, gently and took another step toward me. And when I looked up, into his eyes, there was no sneer at all.

“You did so good, little girl. Don’t be sad,” his gentle voice soothed me, but was confusing. “Come here,” he whispered and pulled me into his arms. “Good girl. You are amazing.” He stroked my hair and back.

Without thinking, I laid my head on his chest. I was so tired. “What is this, Duane? Why do you act like a prick when you have this other side? This guy could get any girl he wanted?”

“I’ve tried. But the asshole always shows up. The dog always gets loose. … And I like it. I feel powerful.”

I glanced up, expecting the leer, but found a weak smile instead. “Sweetness isn’t my strong suit.” He took a deep breath and held me out at arms length.

“Take me home with you, I’ll get you out of work, make you breakfast and, after you’ve slept, we’ll fuck the rest of the day away.” I couldn’t tell if he was asking me… Or telling me.

I looked down trying to decide what to say. “I don’t think I can fuck any more today… Physically…”

He laughed and I smiled up at him, before giggling a bit. “What would I tell Sammy? How would you get me out of work?”

“Oh, Lex,” he chuckled. “The things people never expect about the mail guy… I’ve got my ways. And Samuel won’t have a clue.”

As he folded me into the passenger seat, I contemplated what that meant…

And as he closed the door, and walked around to the drivers seat, I realized he had a whole story. Something gave him power that I didn’t understand. He didn’t just own my body that night, he ruled my mind.

But as he slipped into the car and grabbed the keys from my hand, he looked at me… With that leer. And everything evaporated. Again.

I was aroused all over again…

Humiliated by it…

And 100% his. Because of this power I didn’t understand.

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In the car by kareemnour2000 via DeviantArt.com