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She plays a Master/slave game and loves it.
erotic stories, free, BDSM, sex, xxx, A Game
I stood nervously on the makeshift stage set back in the rather large field, owned by the “president” of the club, my eyes scanning the crowd before me. I was a slave; at least that was the game. They took five of us, dressed us in strips of loincloths wrapped around our chests and hips, and told us to wear no make up or hair spray. We were barefoot, and the auctioneer smiled wickedly at us, as we were up for sale.
All of the men in the audience were dressed in regular clothing, however, most of whom I knew, but a few faces I did not recognize. Occasionally, we would play these games, some were sexual, some were not; this one was a little bit of both. I knew it had to be obvious that the whole thing aroused me; my hard nipples were very clearly visible through the thin cloth, and I noticed a few men staring at my legs and breasts. It was thrilling to be on display, watched and scrutinized like a piece of property. One of the rules of this game was to play that part for at least 48 hours, or more if we wanted to, but we had to obey whoever bought us as real slaves with a real master.
And although I had never met the man who had started this “club”, I knew that everyone was carefully screened for things like diseases and such, as I had gone through the same ordeal. After being around this group for only six months I knew that the women were generally treated better than the men.
We five were the youngest looking girls in the group, two looked fifteen, and I looked 18, but we were all over 20. Even though the game was supposed to be played as in history, the man who took us home, would make us do his laundry, cook his food, and clean his modern house. It was slightly unfair, but everyone in the group was single, had no children or live-in lovers, so most of the men probably needed someone to give their house a good scrubbing.
Immediately before the auction, the auctioneer made it very clear to everyone that both the slaves and the masters must respect the code word. The word was in case of an emergency, or if something was going too far, etc. Almost immediately, he went into character, as did the crowd of about twenty men, armed with nothing but cash, ready to pay a high price for a personal two-day slave. The group was free for women, but things like this would always cost the men something; they had to make money somehow.
He started with Cassie who was one year older than me, shackled by her hands, as we all were, and had a much larger chest than I could ever dream of. Quickly, everyone started bidding, falling over themselves, out bidding so fast I could not keep up. I noticed a few holding back; their eyes on another girl next to me, but none appeared to be ogling me just yet. After paying $200 for Cassie, they moved on to Sheila, also much prettier than I, and I let my gaze drift among the crowd, when I realized there was one man staring at me. I had never seen him before; he seemed older than me by at least a few years, stood straight and tall, his hair was dark brown, long, and pulled back, and he had a very thin goatee outlining his chin. He did not smile at me, but stared possessively, as if he already owned me. I bit hard into my bottom lip and blushed under his stare, fidgeting. He seemed to mouth words that even over the cries of the other men I heard his voice whisper; “I will own you.”
“Sold!” Trevor, the auctioneer yelled as Sheila was pulled away on a leash held by two drooling men.
I was next. A lump caught in my throat as he listed off phony assets of my talents around the house, as well as my virtuous innocence. Just as many hungry men jumped in with bids, however, the man in the back stayed silent, his arms folded as he watched the others fight over me with their money. It was down to $400 and three men, when he finally raised his voice.
“Five Hundred!” he bellowed, his voice deep and commanding, sending shivers through my loins.
“Well, well!” Trevor chided, “Quite a promise! Anyone care to challenge?”
“Five Fifty!” a challenger, seemingly drunk, raised the odds.
“Ah, sir?” Trevor turned back to the strange man, “What of you?”
“Seven Hundred.” he sounded firm, as everyone turned to look at him, surprised at the jump in bidding.
The bidders were silent for a few moments, and then Trevor yelled, “Sold!” making me jump a little.
My heart was beating madly; yet I could barely breathe as he stepped up to the stage, paid Trevor the large amount in hundreds, and took hold of my leash without a glance at my face. Now closer to him, I was able to get a better look; he wore black button up shirt under a black blazer, and black pants tucked into calf-high black boots. He seemed part punk, part alternative and part “S & M”. His facial features looked as though chiseled from stone, his jaw very steady and his eyes perfectly still in hiding any emotion as he barely looked at me while he pulled me behind him. I had to jog a little to keep up with his long legs, his height almost a foot above mine, and his frame large and intimidating. His steps were heavy as he pulled me to his car, then yanked the leash, making me stumble into the side of the car.
“Damn!” I cursed, but his glare made me drop my gaze to the ground.
“Understand, you are my slave, and will not speak unless I tell you to.” he opened the passenger door of a sporty car, then pushed the seat up, “You get in the back, slave.”
Once in the back, he got in and turned to me, a black cloth in his hand. Blindfolding me, he ordered me to lie down and be quiet, before starting the car to drive, presumably, to his home. The drive seemed to take forever; I was uncomfortable, tied up, blindfolded, and I did not even know this man or his name. Suddenly, away from the group and alone, I felt terrified, wanting reassurance that it was still just a game.
“Iconoclast!” I blurted the code phrase, hating that I felt I needed to use it so soon.
“What is it, slave?” he asked, and it sounded as if he pulled into a garage.
“I – I’m just a little scared.”
“Isn’t that the point of the game?”
“I know, but I don’t feel safe.”
He did not answer me, as my blood pounded in my ears; he got out of the car and grabbed my shoulders, pulling me out roughly. I was shaking, so he took off the blindfold, and once my eyes focused to the dim light, I found out that we were in a very clean, well-organized garage. Gently, he cupped my face and pulled me into a kiss; pressing my back against the car, I yielded to him, feeling very small by comparison. His lips were very strong as they devoured mine, his goatee brushing my skin as his tongue gently invaded my willing mouth. Slipping his hands behind me, he freed my wrists from their binds and we held each other for a moment, tasting each other. Pulling away from the kiss, he looked down at me with softened eyes, and did not appear as frightening.
“It is only a game, Elysia,” he whispered, still holding my face close to his, “I know that. Do not be afraid if I play the part of master too well.”
“Can I at least know your name?”
“Not yet, pet. It adds to the drama, yes?”
“I am sorry, I have never done anything like this before.”
“I know, you are still quite young. Do not tell me how old you really are, I want you to be Seventeen, understand?”
“Okay.”
“Now, shall we continue? Do you feel a little better about this?”
“I guess.”
“Do not worry, pet. I am not some ogre out to hurt you. I like playing master and slave, but I do not want you to feel afraid of me.”
“Okay, thanks.”
Stepping back, he cleared his throat and his face changed quickly, almost like a shadow cast over him. Snatching at the leash, he pulled me to the door, then paused and turned to me.
“On your hands and knees, slave.” he ordered, “You will enter my house like the dog you are.”
I obeyed, crawling seductively behind him as he led me through the door, onto a beautiful plush green carpet. Stepping quickly down the hall, we entered the immaculate living room, decorated with a burgundy sofa, matching chairs, and a large entertainment system. Looking up at the vaulted ceilings, a simple white fan swirled above, while I still crawled following his step. Unable to take in the rest of the interior design as he led me down another hallway, I saw framed pictures above me along the walls, but was unable to determine what they were of.
“First, I suppose I should wash you. No telling where you’ve been.” releasing the leash, he knelt down to me, grasping my chin, “If I let you loose, you will not run free without my permission. If I have to tie you to the furniture, you will be punished severely.”
“Yes, master.” I answered, wanting him to kiss me again.
“Good girl.”
Crawling behind him, we went through a large bedroom with a king sized bed in the middle of the room, and a large dresser opposite it. Both were made of a dark red wood and the room was embellished with very little pictures or trinkets, the comforter on the bed a deep dark blue, accented with throw pillows. Opening two French doors, he revealed the lavish bathroom with a two-person shower and a jet-stream garden tub. The toilet was behind another door, and the mirror at the sink was shiny and clean, as was everything that sparkled and smelled of pine cleaner. It seemed to me that he needed no housekeeper.
I sat on the floor while he turned on the water in the tub, then started to strip himself as the bath filled slowly. I watched him from my place on the floor, admiring his chest and shoulders, slightly tanned and muscular, when he pulled his pants off and left his boxer shorts on. His legs and thighs were that of a runner, firm and strong; even his feet were attractive.
“Stand up, slave.” when I obeyed, he snatched off the cloth covering my breasts.
Out of reflex, I gasped and covered myself, but he did nothing, so I tried to relax while he continued to strip me naked. Sanding there in this stranger’s bathroom with the water running and his eyes roaming over my nakedness, I felt a tingle between my legs as my nipples stood on end. Once the bath was full, he gestured for me to get in, so I did, the water hot but soothing. I sat still, looking at him with unsure eyes, when I caught him smile and quickly turn away to hide it. Grabbing a bath sponge, he slipped out of his shorts, and I could not help but stare; even soft, his penis was obviously large. Nestled in a dark brown bush of pubic hair, it was wide and hung straight down, resting on soft, almost pink testicles. It was the first time I ever thought a man’s sex was beautiful. Slipping in next to me, he grabbed the soap and began washing me, but all the while, I was staring into the water at his groin.
I started to wonder who was the slave as he started with my back and arms, then slowly, carefully, soaped my breasts with his bare hands. Rubbing and caressing more than cleaning, he continued, and I sighed, loving his touch as he moved down my belly, then skipped to my toes. He rubbed every inch of my body, then concentrated between my legs, so I leaned back and closed my eyes. Grunting, he shoved two fingers inside of me and I jumped, surprised, but he grabbed my arm roughly and pulled me closer to him. Holding me to his chest, he continued to move his fingers in and out of me, and I opened my legs wide for him, my hands gripping his forearms. After only a few short moments, he ended his manipulation as quickly as he had started and leaned back into the water.
“Now it is your turn to bathe your master.”
I was stunned at the abruptness of his movements, but obeyed, using the bath sponge on his chest and arms, first. I sat on my knees while he stretched out and rested his head back on the rim of the tub, allowing me to touch him everywhere as I became even more aroused. Gently, carefully, I washed him; he had very strong legs and arms, and thick, broad shoulders that I massaged while he moaned very slightly under the caress of my fingers. Having cleaned every inch of him, I ended with his penis, which astonished me that it was still soft and relaxed.
“May I wash your lovely penis, master?” I asked him, smiling.
However, when he opened his eyes and lifted his head, he glared down his nose at me, as if I had done wrong.
“I told you to wash me, slave.” he answered angrily, “Stroke it slowly, and make sure it is clean.”
With flushed cheeks, I bowed my head and obeyed him, taking care to be soft with him; I soaped my bare hands and slipped them under the water. As his penis began to grow from my touch, he moaned slightly, so I thought to stroke a little faster. All too quickly, he pushed me off of him, causing me to splash in the water, a little puzzled that he did not wish for me to continue.
“You do not have time for that, slave. You have to make my dinner.” he sneered as his immense erection left quickly, “Dry yourself off and get to it, slave. In the bedroom there is an outfit for you to wear and instructions in the kitchen. Leave me.”
I nodded my head and stepped out of the tub, wrapping myself in a towel while he watched me. I started to leave the room, but he would not let me go.
“You stay here so I can see that you are dry before you leave this room. I can’t have you dripping water all over my house.”
His hungry eyes were glued to me as I first rubbed the towel on my shoulders and back, patting my breasts softly, moving down my belly, then to my bottom. Propping one leg on the edge of the tub, I gave him a good view as I rubbed one leg, then the other dry. I looked into his eyes for approval when he lifted his hand to my shaved pussy, cupping it while inserting his middle finger. I sighed and tilted my hips toward him, but he quickly withdrew his hand, tasting his finger before he was going to dismiss me. Once he let me leave, I slipped into the tight black latex mini-skirt, black lace bra, matching garters, and black thigh high stockings, and uncomfortable high heels before I went to find the kitchen.
Taking my time, I went from the bedroom, down the hall, through a rather large living room with a stylish entertainment system, and found the kitchen. It, too, was beautiful and immaculate; the appliances were all stainless steel, the colors were black, white, and green, and very beautiful French doors led into a very green and well-kept backyard. Nestled in a corner was the dinning room table, a rectangular oak table with four chairs and nothing on top of it but a clean surface. Forcing myself to stop being so awe-struck, I found the instructions for his meal on the stove and quickly began cooking exactly as it said to, not wanting to disappoint my master. Once everything was on the stove, it occurred to me that I did not even know his name, so I figured I had a little time to snoop a little while everything was simmering and he was safely in the bath. I opened a few kitchen drawers and cabinets looking for his mail, or any piece of paper, but found nothing.
Leaving the kitchen, I found that there was a computer desk in the living room with very little on it, so I tried the drawers. Finding them locked, I lost myself in trying to force them open when from out of nowhere my Master grabbed me from behind and pulled me down to the floor. Forcing me on my hands and knees, he lifted my skirt and smacked my cheeks hard with his hand, pausing before saying anything.
“I trust you and you go through my things?” he demanded, and I knew he was truly angry, “Tell me what you were doing!”
I could not answer, tears escaped my eyes, but he kept me still, then reached for something I quickly found out was a hard paddle. Two more smacks at my bottom made me cry out a little, and it surprised me that it was actually turning me on to be spanked. The meat on the stove started to sizzle loudly, so he stood me up, grabbing my arm to jerk me up quickly beside him. His grasp was tight and rough as his eyes glared at me and I wondered if I had gone too far.
“What were you looking for, slave?” he demanded again but I looked away.
“I wanted to know your name.” I admitted honestly, but his expression did not change.
“Did you not remember our conversation about this?”
“No, sir.” I suddenly felt like a child being scolded.
“You will know my name when I am ready to give it to you. Until then, you may call me Master and nothing else. Do you understand?”
“Yes, Master.”
“Now get in there before you burn my steak.”
One more smack to my red ass as I went to the kitchen and I felt chills of anticipation all over my skin as I continued my ordered task, feeling him watching me as I did. Strangely, I was even more aroused after being reprimanded, knowing that he really did not want to hurt me out of anger, and felt more like a servant to him. After the bath, he was even more handsome, wearing another black shirt and loose fitting black pants, his long hair unrestrained, playing at his neck and back. He wore no shoes, and I hated that I had to traipse around in silly high heels, but remained stepping slowly and carefully to keep my balance. Not knowing his name did make it more exciting, so I decided not to think about it for the next 48 hours, hoping that by that point, he would want me to know. Dinner was almost finished, and he grumbled as he entered the kitchen.
“Damn, slave, have you not set the table, yet?”
“I am sorry, master.”
I found two plates and set them side-by-side, but he grabbed my arm, stopping me.
“You will sit on the floor at my feet, not at my table. Do you think I would treat you like an equal?”
It was an unintentional mistake, so I nodded humbly and returned the plate to the cabinet. I set a goblet of wine by the plate as he sat down, and then turned to me, a mischievous smile on his sexy lips. Taking hold of my arm before I could walk away, he pulled me into his lap and lifted the glass to my mouth.
“Drink, slave.” he ordered, his arm holding me close to him, “Every drop of it, and fill my glass again for me.”
Biting my lip, I opened my mouth as he poured the sour liquid down my throat and I drank quickly to keep from spilling any until the glass was empty. Setting the goblet down carefully, he tilted my face toward his as if observing my features and I gave in to my desire and pressed my lips to his. Returning the kiss, his arms held me tightly, forceful, and I could feel his erection growing next to his thigh. Groaning, he released me, tugging at my hair to pull me from his mouth, and I whined, enjoying the taste of his tongue and lips.
“Do not ever do that again.” he ordered, though his tone was soft and tender, “I will be the one to kiss you, understand, slave?”
I nodded, and he motioned for me to stand and continue my task. Tingly and aroused, I spun around to bring him his dinner, an unavoidable smile on my face, my head a little light. After pouring him the wine once more, I started to think that I could not have been “bought” by a better Master. Once I had served him his food, he ordered me to my knees, so I knelt on the floor and looked up at him, feeling like a hungry dog, begging for table scraps. I had not eaten since that morning before the auction, and my stomach was being quite loud at the smell of food. After taking a few bites, he smiled down at me and patted my head.
“Good work, pet.” he spoke sweetly, then held out a piece of his steak, “You have done very well.”
He hand fed me part of his dinner while I sat on the floor, and the sun was setting, making my yawn. He smirked at me, but did not seem to mind as he got up from the table and went into the living room.
“You will wash the dishes and clean the kitchen before you are allowed in here with me, understand, pet?”
“Yes, master.”
I ate what was left and scrubbed the room spotless while he watched a dumb show on TV. It was now about nine o’clock and I was beginning to wonder where he would have me sleep, when I joined him in the other room. I stood beside him, my head bowed and my hands behind my back, waiting for him to notice me.
“On your knees and lay your head in my lap. I want to stroke your hair.”
Shivering, I knelt beside him and did as he ordered, while he kept his attention on the TV, but I had closed my eyes and ignored it. The feel of his strong hand petting me relaxed and excited me, when he eventually turned the idiot box off, but continued to rub my head. His hand roamed down my back as his bulge began to grow slowly near my cheek so he released his penis and started stroking it, but kept my head down on his thighs. So close to his sex, I felt a little afraid, but the rush turned me on as I could breathe in his scent, feeling his leg muscles tense beneath me. I could see how immense he was, fully erect and realized that at some point, he would make love to me with that large tool, and there was a good chance that it was going to hurt.
“Stand up.” he ordered after a few moments, “On my table.”
I obeyed, standing straight on the coffee table, looking down at him, feeling a little silly, but my eyes were fixed on his arousal. Admiring me as if I was a stature, he stroked his large penis, groaning while he merely stared at me. Fidgeting, from nervousness as his deep blue eyes scrutinized me, he grunted and bucked his hips slightly, then told me to squat and spread my legs so he could see my lips spread. Although I blushed from head to toe, I obeyed and he quickened his pace. I had just thought to myself that he could get the same pleasure at a strip club when he stood suddenly, grabbing my upper arm I almost fell from the table, landing firmly on my knees. When he faced me, his immense erection was against my cheek, pulsing its desire for me, and I took the initiative to take him in my mouth, caressing him with my lips. Even though he moaned and allowed me to move up and down for a few mere moments, he suddenly pulled away, though reluctant, and feigned a slap across my face. Gasping, I cowered before his hand reached me, and he chuckled.
“You are too eager, my slave, to please me.” tucking himself away, he found the leash and slipped the collar around my neck, “Follow me, lovely.”
I crawled behind him as he led me not to the bedroom, but a door that I realized led down to the basement. My heart beat faster from fear as I tried to remind myself that he would never really hurt me, as he had reassured from the beginning. He allowed me to walk down the dark steps past the laundry to a door that was painted in red. Once he had unlocked it, he snatched my arm and pushed me in first, quickly following close behind and locking it from the inside while I sat on my knees.
Even from the floor of this secret, hidden place, I was awed. The room had a red light giving it somewhat of a horror/pornographic feel with a large round bed in the middle of the room. The walls were soft, covered with an apparent red cloth and there was a small collection of sex toys in the far corner from the bed, displayed in a round black table. My heart was beating loudly in my chest and I wondered how many other girls had been down there with him and what, exactly, had he done to them. I was not given much more of an opportunity to wonder as he tugged harshly on the leash, pulling me up to stand. He roughly grabbed my elbows and pulled them behind my back, restraining them together, as well as my wrists. I opened my mouth to protest, but stopped, know I had to play along with this game.
Turning me around to face him, my chest heaved as my back was arched from the restraints and he gazed at my breasts as if deciding what exactly he wanted to do me. Stepping back, his eyes roamed up and down my body as he thought, then reached for my skirt, unzipping it. Kneeling, he tugged it down my hips, pausing to breathe in my scent between my thighs, then dropping it to the floor as he released me from those heels. With his hand gripping my shoulder, he led me to the bed, attaching my restraints to a short leash that hung on the wall behind the bed.
“On your knees in the middle of the bed.” his tone was cold and demanding, “I want to take a picture of you.”
“Hey, wait, that’s not what I agreed to.” I objected, slightly pulling away from him before he bound me to the wall.
The look on his face alarmed me as he clamped his hand on my throat, squeezing slightly. I could not move, my binds secure, he thrust two fingers inside of me, roughly until I moaned, enjoying his torture. I was wet already, so he stopped when my hips started swaying with him, releasing his grip on my neck and stepping back. Without a word, he retrieved a large black mask for my eyes with little slits so I could still see, and then pulled my bra down slightly to show my breasts. My nipples were so hard they almost ached when he stepped away, positioning a camera on a tripod in front of the bed.
“You are so hot...” he mumbled, looking through the lens, he adjusted his erection in his pants, “I will take these pictures of you, slave, because you are my property. I do not want to hear your fucking mouth again or I may not be so merciful.”
I did not move, terrified, trying to picture him a few hours ago when he reassured me that I was safe, only this man before me seemed like someone else. Pictures were definitely against the rules, especially with me tied up like a cheap whore. Then I remembered that I was definitely not cheap, at least to him. He had paid a high price for me, and now I figured it was so he could sell provocative photos of me and make money. Figuring I had been deceived, I tried to relax while the flash blinded me as he snapped one picture after another. It sickened me and I decided that when, and if, he released me, I was going to leave as this game was definitely over for me. But where was I? He had driven me there blindfolded so I had no idea where I was or how to get to get home. I was trapped, basically, until he was supposed to return me to the club in two days.
“Damn, why look so sad?” He asked, stepping away from the camera, “You’re supposed to be enjoying this.”
I opened my mouth but, again, said nothing, dropping my gaze to the floor, not wanting to look at him any more. Stepping away from the camera he sat on the bed and released me from the wall.
“Elysia, I thought I reassured you enough before,” he said out of character as he sat me gently in his lap.
“You’re not supposed to take pictures.” I mumbled shamefully, my arms still tied painfully behind my back.
His mouth was touching my ear as he whispered, “There’s no film in the camera, pet. It is only part of the game. Trust me, or this whole weekend will be a tug of war. You know the group would never put you in danger, right? They screen us guys more intensely than the army. But I’m tiring of having to coddle you every time you get a little apprehensive. Is this not what you want? Do you want to cancel the game?”
I felt stupid and childish. He was right. I was not in any danger and I did enjoy the idea of being a slave. I just did not know him and was having trouble accepting that he wanted to play Master as much as I wanted to play Slave. Instead of answering with words, I leaned in to kiss him so he held me tightly and let his tongue explore my mouth once more.
“I‘m sorry, I’m stupid.” I said once he pulled away.
“Maybe this is just too rough for you.” his hand played at my nipple as I sighed, “I thought you would like it though.”
“I did until you pulled out the camera.”
“Okay, I’ll put it away, but trust me from this point on. I’m not trying to take advantage of you. Call it a test to see if you really want to be my slave.”
He smiled then kissed me again, so sweetly and passionate, all I really wanted was for him to lay me on the bed and fuck me. Gently, he tied me to the wall again and stood, cupping my face.
“You are so fucking beautiful.” he mumbled, his thumb brushing over my lips, “It takes a lot of willpower not to throw you down and fuck the shit out of you.”
I smiled; it seemed that we shared the same strong feeling of desire. Stepping back, he slipped quickly back into character as he examined me, perhaps deciding what to do next. Pulling the mask from my eyes, he tossed it to the floor and knelt by the sex toys, running his right hand over them. Glancing up at me, he noticed that I was straining my head to watch him, so he found a black silk scarf and covered my eyes, blinding me.
“That is much better, slave.” he moaned and allowed his fingers to trace over my shoulder and down my back.
Hearing nothing but his breathing for a few moments, I felt warm and my skin tingled with anticipation, the ache from my binds forgotten. A sudden hum tickled at my ear and I knew it had to be a vibrator buzzing, his hand gently grasping my breast. I fought to keep from whimpering, needing so badly to know what pleasures he had for me, but my lips parted as he tickled my back with the vibrator. Sighing, he was very quiet; tracing the tip of it down my spine, to the base of my backbone, then back up again. His other hand was delicately massaging one breast, than the other, pinching slightly at my aching nipples to make me moan.
Long minutes passed, or so it seemed, as he continued this gentle torture, a growing wetness between my legs causing me to rock my hips slightly. I supposed he was trying to arouse me to the point of trusting his touch and his intentions. Dragging the tip of the plastic penis down the curve of my buttocks, he carefully slid it between my thighs from behind, the side of it vibrating both of my openings. Gasping suddenly, I pulled on my restraints, wanting, needing, to touch myself or have him touch me as he allowed the vibrator to linger at my lower lips.
“It feels good, doesn’t it, slave.” he whispered, his mouth so close to my throat, I could feel his hot breath on my skin, “You see, I can give you so much pleasure if you obey me.”
Removing the toy, he pulled away from me and I heard the rustle of clothes, hoping he was removing his pants, unable to keep the vision of his erection from my mind. With one hand on my hip, he knelt behind me in the bed, the released me from the leash, pushing my face down so my butt was high in the air, exposed to him. I had to be dripping wet by this point, as he held me down with one hand and positioned his head at my lips with the other. It was massive, throbbing, and I did feel afraid of the size, but wanted to have him inside of me more than anything.
“Are you going to be a good little girl and let me fuck you?” he moaned, rubbing the tip slightly along my slit.
“Yes, Master.” I whined, wanting to push my hips back toward him.
“How badly to you want your master to take your pussy?”
“Very much, Master. I am so wet for you.”
“You will not stop me, do you understand? I will not tolerate interruptions.”
“Yes, Master.” I spread my knees a little wider, hating, but loving, this torture.
“Beg me to fuck you. I can fuck my own hand, but I want to hear how much you need your Master to dominate your sex, as well as your life.”
I pleaded, promised, and cried for him to enter me, give me the whole fullness of him, pain and all, and without a word, he pushed his whole length into me. I squealed and wanted to move away, tensing even more as it seemed to tear into me, but his hands held me to him, strong and demanding, I knew I was in his power. I could hear him moaning how tight I was as he withdrew every thick, long inch of his manhood, then plunged into me even harder, his fingers grasping tightly at my arms. I know I must have moaned some words, but the memory of what was said was lost, feeling nothing, aware only of his hard sex invading me.
“Good little slave.” he moaned, still moving at a slow, but forceful pace, “You take my cock so well.”
I gasped and groaned in response as his hips gained in rhythm slightly, our hips meeting with a slap of flesh as we both seemed possessed by an insistent desire to make this last forever. My skin felt on fire as it was hot and flushed, small beads of perspiration spreading to cool me. Each time the pace quickened, I screamed in pleasure, feeling him tear into me all over again until he was pounding me, with a maddening desire of acceleration. Touching me deeper inside than any man, I soon gave in to one orgasm after another until my body continued to shudder with each thrust, until he withdrew, suddenly, and threw me onto my back.
Giving me no time to think or act, he was inside me again, his hands pushing my knees to my chest. I moved my hips up to meet his demanding thrusts, and came again, my back arched both from the pleasure, and my restraints. Roughly, his thickness moved into me, even deeper now, and I must have been screaming when his mouth seized mine passionately as the room seemed quieter somehow. Our tongues demanding passage into each other’s mouths, our bodies molded together with sweat, saliva, and the juices from between my legs. Time had long ago ceased to exist; all that I was aware of was the sense that his immensity seemed even larger with each stroke, plunging deeper into my body. I tore my mouth from his, but he continued to kiss my throat, nibbling as he did, I screamed as another, more intense orgasm sent tremors from the inside out.
“Oh, God...” his moans started deep and low, and then rose quickly in volume when he abruptly withdrew.
Lifting with a tremendous gasp, he spilled his seed onto my stomach, some shooting as high as my breasts, the hot, smooth liquid spreading slowly across my abdomen. We were both gasping for air when he collapsed onto me, catching his breath for a short moment before he sat up, my legs still spread to him, covered in sex, my chest heaving.
“Very good, slave.” he was still slightly panting, “I am going up to sleep, but you will sleep here, drenched in our come.”
“Yes, Master.” I answered, hoping he would untie me and remove the blindfold.
At first, however, he left me down there without another word, and I heard his footsteps in the room above, then nothing. I started to struggle with the binds behind my back, to no avail. Deciding to try and rest on my side, I was surprised at how easy it was to find the comforts of sleep, the smell and feel of sex still very thick in the small room.
To Be Continued...
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