Aggression

There's nothing quite like a good, aggressive fuck session when it's been days. Nothing like the feeling of anticipation when it's not yet private time, when you still have dinner and family time to get through before the fucking can occur.

Nothing like: 

Having three layers of clothing stripped from your lower half in one fell swoop so that the impact of a hand slamming into your ass will be better felt.
That first impact, the sting after months of no slapping at all.
The sudden warmth that makes those three layers hardly missed at all.
The awareness of the incredible amounts of wetness when his fingers slide through your labia, seeking exactly what they've found.
So much arousal from so much time spend waiting for this moment.
The feeling of that cock sliding home from behind in spoons position, sliding all the way in until it's actually a bit too much and then just a tiny bit further than that.
Absolute fullness and then the motion. Holy fuck the motion. Just a gentle shoving in, in, in.
Pulling away, on your hands and knees, begging to be fucked doggy style and then the even bigger cock now it's got some gravity behind it. Holy fuck there's no way that's ever going to work - but it does.

And then his hands in your hair, pushing your face into the bed while you scream. His hands, somehow multiplied, everywhere at once, pulling you into him by the hips and pushing your head, your shoulder, your lower back holy fuck that's delicious, everywhere all the while his cock is shoving in, in, in, in and it's so unutterably big and all you can do is scream into the bed for the amazing eternity of this fuck.


Nothing like it.

Spin the slave girl: a fantasy

I have a very very good imagination.

Once in a while my husband will use that to his extreme advantage by crafting a fantasy directly into my ear while he manipulates my body. Bondage, discipline, even fucking, can come from his lips into my ear without him actually putting forth more effort than coming up with the idea.

He spoons me, and his lips are right against my ear, his arms around me as he begins to speak.

"You'd like a cage, wouldn't you. And I could just hang you from it. Tie your wrists to your ankles, spread your legs wide, and hang you up, just to beat you, or to fuck you wherever I want. Just to keep you right here and fuck you. I could spin you around to decide where to fuck, oooh I should fuck your pretty face right now," he whispers, his hands roaming my body as they like. In point of fact I have a cold sore right now, but my imagination doesn't worry about that as he describes his cock filling my face, my throat. I moan deeply and his fingers find my clit as he keeps talking about using my face to fuck. He strokes it lightly, expertly, driving my desire for him to a fever pitch as he keeps talking, his sexy fucking voice playing right inside my brain, turning me into a puddle of need.

"I could get your ass all nice and slippery, slide my fingers in there, then shove a huge plug into you. Then when I fuck your pussy, there won't be much room. But I'd make room. You're mine and I'd shove my cock into you because it feels so fucking good inside you. 'Too big,' you'll say, 'oh, master, it's too big for me,' but I won't fucking care and I will make you take it all and there is nothing you can do about it."

I just keep moaning. My brain has completely accepted that my face is currently full of cock, despite the fact that it is not.

"Mmm. It's so good inside your throat," he murmurs, "and I know that once your face realizes what it's really for, it hates to stop. All your holes are like that, aren't they? Once they realize they're fuck holes again they hate to give it up. Your sweet mouth doesn't want me to stop fucking it, does it? But I should just spin you again and see what else to fuck. Face hole, pussy hole, ass hole. . . face hole, pussy hole, ass hole." And inside my head, it's exactly as if he has done just that. I am a collection of holes, spinning slowly, suspended from a cage while he decides where he wants to put his cock next. I barely stifle my screams of gratification at being so objectified.

"Mmm, I guess I'll fuck your pussy," he murmurs, sliding his actual cock into me from behind as I make loud grunting noises, his words causing minor spasms over my entire body. I am a slippery wet mess by this point, his words and his fingers have made me come several times already. I am floating, every nerve tingling, hanging on his every word, suspended by his voice as surely as the imaginary restraints into which he has bound me.

"Take it, girl. Take it all. Too big, is it? That's your favorite thing to complain about, isn't it? I should spin you around again and shove it down your throat. You won't complain about that, will you? Of course you won't, your throat will be full of cock. Don't worry, girl, soon your lip will heal and then, ohh, and then. . . "

"Then you'll fuck my throat again?" I gasp, each syllable interrupted by my gasps as his cock moves inside me.

"Oh yes, what a clever fuck toy you are. That's right, then I'll fuck your throat again," he croons, the low rasp of his voice sending tingles down my spine. "You love being full of my cock, having all your holes filled and stretched open around me, for me. That's what you're fucking for. For me to fuck all your holes. Your ass loves my cock too. It loves me to shove inside it, to force you open, to make you mine. You're afraid too, afraid of how big it is. But you love to be afraid of my big cock fucking your ass. You're a collection of fuck holes, what's that like, to be a walking collection of fuck holes?"

I can only respond in grunts and barely-restrained screams. His words and his actions have driven any rational part of my brain away and I can only feel things, react to things, arch, scream, pant, gasp.

"And I can just keep you here, hanging here, for me to fuck those holes whenever I want, however I want. Ohh yes I like that. My own hanging fuck toy." He pulls me closer into him as he speaks, his cock pushing more into me than there is me, stretching my insides further, making me cry out as he finally comes. His orgasm is long, his moans of pleasure intense.

But then he is on top of me, his fingers sliding into me, stroking my clit, pressing hard into my g-spot, and I am screaming again. I thought I was spent, done, no more gasps of pleasure left but he is wringing every bit out of me that he can.

And I adore him. I adore what he does to me and I just keep thinking, when I am allowed to think as his fingers draw more orgasms from my exhausted body, how very lucky I am to be this man's sex slave.


Thank you, husband.

Fucking after a 5K

"You love being my fuck hole, don't you?" he growls into my ear. I'm half on my side, half on my back and he's behind me, my leg wrapped around his waist, my foot pushing against his ass, his huge cock plundering my insides to the point of pain. I am incredibly wet due to the face-fucking I just received and the amazing things he has been saying.

I whimper my response. "Mmhmm, mmhmm." I do, I do, I do.

"Say it," his voice rumbles as his fingers tighten around my wrist.

Oh God, if he makes me say it. Oh, God, I can't hold it together. The words stumble out of me, falling over themselves and making me repeat some sounds. "I luh-love b-being your f-fuck hole," I stammer. Too many sensations pouring through me from the center, the effort to make words is too much and I can feel the distraction of being forced to speak such words driving me closer to orgasm.

He hears my voice catching. "Say it again," he orders.

Holy shit, my head is going to explode. I do what he's asked, repeating the words, and then I do it again, and again as he keeps fucking me, and I'm exploding, tightening, arching, pressing, screaming. He feels too good and I can't contain the sensations.

The hand that's not holding my wrist tight is stroking my spread sex, rubbing lightly across my clit, making me gasp and jerk and squirm around his cock, the post-orgasm sensitivity just driving me close to another and another.

"I love to make my fuck slave squirm," he says, though whether that's because it feels better to his cock or just because he enjoys making me squirm isn't altogether clear.

My hand is trying to get lose from his grip. I want, badly, to reach behind me, wrap my arm around his neck, stroke his hair with my hand. He won't let me go though.

"Please, please, please, please," I beg, tugging on my wrist.

"Hm? What's my fuck slave want?" he asks, keeping his grip on me.

"Oh please, please, I want to touch you," I manage to gasp out between the cries of pleasure he's coaxing from me.

"Oh, that's okay, go ahead and touch me," he says, but doesn't let go of me. I fight to free myself from his grip, to get my hand to his skin, but he won't let go. "Go on, girl, I said you could touch me," he says.

I whimper with frustration and arousal as I tug futilely at my wrist. He keeps pounding inside me, his other hand keeps tormenting my sensitive parts, and I have very little strength for the physical struggle to get my hand to his head.

"Ohh," he says after a few moments of useless struggle on my part. "I guess my girl didn't really want to touch me at all. How disappointing."

I groan, a deep, tormented groan, and I am also on the verge of another orgasm as I pull against his grip. He releases my wrist as I shudder around him. "Good girl," he whispers in my ear as my arm snakes its way around his neck, as I pull him as close to me as I can.

It's the middle of the afternoon and he woke me from a much-needed nap to fuck me. I couldn't be happier. He drives into me, grinding, his fingers stroking my clit, his breath and his voice in my ear, and I am exactly where I want to be, exactly where I am meant to be. I am fulfilling my own very specific purpose.

I don't know how many times I come on his cock before he finally can't stand it. I do know my screams seem to spur his orgasm out of him, and that feels somehow powerful to me even though he is the one causing my screams.

After his cock softens, his hand replaces it. He fills me, presses against my g-spot until I scream in disbelief at the sensations inside me. "Oh my God, what are you doing to me?" I squeal, the sensations so unbelievable that I have difficulty processing them.

"Oooh," he says at my reaction, prodding the same spot again and again and watching me react the same way. "Fucking you," he answers as I scream, a different sort of orgasm taking me over and washing all my strength away.

---

This man, this man, this unbelievable man.
My life, my heart, my body, my love are his.

No description can do justice to the joy that swells inside me when he touches me. I told him once that it feels like a holy moment and that's why I close my eyes, to savor it.

I could type for years and never properly indicate the exact level of wonder with which he fills my life.

This will have to do for now.

Step 3: Fuck the slave girl's brains out

Step 2 is here.

He climbs atop me and he slips his cock against my entrance. He's slow, easing it into me even though I would surge up into him and devour him into me. When he is completely buried inside me and I am pulsing around him, he grinds. He rocks into my clit just so and he's saying something about me, about owning me and me existing for his pleasure and being there for his cock. My body arches into him and I tremble, a series of short sharp pants emerging from my mouth.

"Did I say you could come again?" he asks sharply.

"Oh, God, no," I whimper, shaking. He wants this, wants me to come on command, and I'm not so good at it. But I can stop, though I tremble with the effort.

He puts his head down so that his lips are near my ear as he growls. "Then don't. I'll tell you when you can come."

My head swims. It swims and pounds and I'm not sure exactly what he's doing but it's making me crazy. I groan, shuddering, at the edge of orgasm - right where he put me.

"Now," he finally says, driving his cock down into me, his lips still at my ear. "Come for me now!"

I do. I let go of the tenuous thread holding me to sanity and I fly, screaming, into the blissful abyss where he has sent me.

Time stretches, suspends, as he continues fucking me. He is brilliant, a sex god, a lover of epic proportions and all I want is to please him and feel the pleasure he gains from me in all the ways he does.

"I'm going to fuck your ass next," he growls down at me. I whimper.

"You like the sound of that?" he asks.

It occurs to me now, that a lot of what he says during sex is making sure I'm happy. At the time it sounds like growling, sounds like orders and like him requiring me to vocalize. But he wants to be wanted too - of course he does. I wonder how much of his pleasure comes from knowing how much he pleases me. I think it might be a lot. I know he likes this blog, likes having the window into my experience of him.

I do like the sound of it - anal sex - his cock invading my ass, pushing me open, claiming me. I like the sound of it very very much. He circles his hips against me and I arch up into him. "Yes, Master, I like your cock invading me," I gasp.

He pulls away from me. Oh, no. Now I'm empty. I groan with disappointment as he rolls to my side.

"Is the poor girl empty?" he asks gently, not too mockingly.

I dive after his wet cock with my mouth, making sure to cover my lip with my hand again. I lick my arousal off of him, suck him as best I can, while he gets the lube from the nightstand drawer.

"Turn over, girl," he finally says once he has retrieved the tube of slippery substance.

I do. I turn my back to him, bend myself nearly in half to provide him access to the part he wants. I'm shaking. I'm excited and a little afraid. We have anal sex rarely enough that each time is a little scary. Will he push too hard? Will he make it hurt? Will he go slowly enough so it's not overwhelming pain?

And this time, after the lube is applied and my tiny opening prepared for him, he is perfect. I reach behind me and hold his cock steady, and he pushes just a tiny bit, then retreats and repeats. Over and over, each time entering me just a little more, making me open for him, penetrating my resistance as I moan deeply. It's overwhelming but not with pain, just sensation and awe at how absolutely perfect the entire experience is.

"Going to fuck your ass," he growls as he is finally all the way inside me. He grabs my hip and thrusts. I cry out - it's amazing, he feels amazing. My muscles squeeze around his foreskin and his cock slides within it as it's meant to.

His hand cups my breast, lifts the warm weight of it. His fingers press gently around my nipple. "Going to pinch your nipple," he says roughly, right in my ear.

Shivers run down my spine. "Okay," I whimper.

"Going to pinch it hard," he continues.

Oh, God. "Okay," I whimper again.

"Going to pinch your nipple hard while I fuck you in the ass," he clarifies.

"Oh my God," I moan, and then he is doing what he said, slowly compressing my nipple between his thumb and forefinger until I squeal with the pain of it. It's intense, and sharp, and he never stops moving his cock.

"Does it hurt, slave?" he asks. When I merely continue squealing he says "Good. Good girl."

He stops pinching, and he slaps. He slaps my nipple and I groan. It burns, it stings, then it tingles. My nipple turns into a little pebble and he slaps it again. He's talking now too, something about ownership and pain and love.

I am out of my mind with pleasure, but he is pulling my leg backward over his waist. It's slightly different than vaginal sex in this position, but he still has free access to my pussy - now pulled open for his enjoyment. He's talking, still, as his fingers find my wetness and play there. Fingers enter my body, my flesh separating his fingers from his cock, and I moan. "Is my girl full?" he asks.

I am beyond words. I respond but it's a mumbled grunt. God, I love being his, I love him filling me up, love having him occupy my body and my space. I think about sex with him so often that when it does happen - every time it happens, even if it's every day - it's like a long-desired dream coming true.

I cannot say all that, but the feeling of it rushes through me and I scream as his fingers work their magic, as his cock fucks me in a place no one else has ever even touched me.

He comes - he must have come - but I can't process it. I'm too far gone. His fingers gently stroke me as I come down from the mountain. We're still in the same position, my leg backward around his waist, his softening cock in my ass. My hand closest to him fumbles around, trying to find a place to touch him - his shoulder, his neck, his cheek, his head, and back again. My arm can't find a place where I can rest it on him without it sliding off. It's a weak sort of floppy arm movement and he laughs at me.

"What are you doing with that arm, girl?" he laughs.

"Want to love you," I mutter. He moves his arm, crooks it so that his forearm is holding mine in place so I can rest my hand on him comfortably.

I am spent.

---

But much later, when I am almost asleep and I am wrapped around him from behind, squeezing him and kissing his neck softly as I drowse, he suddenly says "Turn over so I can fuck you some more."

Oh my God. My stomach does flip-flips. Just to hear those words come out of his mouth sends me all aflutter. I do as he's asked, and he has his way with me from behind. It's like a birthday and a road trip and an excellent homecooked meal all rolled into one. This happens even more rarely than anal, that he interrupts my sleep to take me.

"Where did that come from?" I ask him.

"Mmm, I was thinking about how sexy you are and I got turned on and I thought I should take it since it's mine."

Holy hell. Hotter words were never spoken.

High-minded pursuits in the bedroom

It is a long conversation. At the end, I merely say "It's like you're all pure and high-minded and I'm running around pursuing earthly pleasures."

He gets his kicks from math and programming. I can do too but I also want to go out, go hiking, see a show, be with friends - and I've always preferred sex to math.

He scoffs. "There's nothing high-minded about it. My earthly pleasures are just different from yours," he says.

I am quiet. Well, he said it at least, and that's all right. The world didn't explode. I feel ridiculous, dressed in a flimsy bit of lace lying in bed with him. I want to go put on something more substantial but my ruined foot would make that far more of a production than I would intend it to be.

I suppose I am quiet for too long. "What are you thinking, my girl?" he asks softly.

No reason not to be honest. "That I want to put on more clothes, but I can't walk."

"I like you naked," he says, and he too is honest. The words coil around my heart, around my stomach, and squeeze warmly. I feel my pulse speed up. "I think you should have on less clothes," he continues, his hand running under the bit of lace I'm wearing, across my skin. He makes my breath catch, my skin raise into goosebumps. I moan softly. I don't move, though.

His hand presses against my face and I moan again. He covers my whole face with his hand and presses, his lips settling against my ear. "You're mine, and you like to do what I tell you," he says. "I'm telling you to take off your clothes."

Helpless

Right now, I'm barely managing to get around my apartment.

We went hiking, and I sprained the hell out of my ankle after nearly 4.5 miles on the trail. Thankfully it was a loop, and we were almost finished, so the ranger station was close. My love fetched a ranger to help us.

But now I am injured, and one of my deepest, darkest, most frightening and, yes, most exciting fantasies is to be used while being genuinely injured. The fear of possibly being hurt more, the true helplessness, it all blends together beautifully in my brain. I have a swollen, aching foot and the opposite knee is a mass of bruised tissue that hurts really badly as well.

It's been exhausting, relying on my arms, my good knee, and my good foot to get around. My brilliant, loving, sexy husband has been amazing - helpful and solicitous. He's let me give him blow jobs, and he's touched me, brought me to orgasm with his fingers, but he's been terrified of hurting me further - overwhelming me with gentleness. Which feels lovely and like love and I adore him for it, but I was ready for something a little rougher after a few days.

In the mean time, I had been sinking into the feeling of uselessness that comes with not being able to do much. I began to feel more and more like a useless lump of humanity.

I told him. I steeled myself for his shock or disgust, but I should know by now it's hard to faze this man. Even so, revealing these little hidden bits of myself feels terrifying. I told him that my injuries turned me on, made me feel actually, truly helpless. Not like I could get up and run away or anything.

And my man. My wonderful, open-minded, beautiful man who apparently would in actual fact do anything to make me happy, he responded by turning into an evil sadist bastard and beating me, just like I'd asked. He started once we were in bed and he was holding me, long enough after the conversation that I was a little surprised when he went for my ass.

My ass already hurt from sitting on it way too much with my foot up to keep the swelling down, but he didn't care as his hand smacked into my backside. I squealed, I stretched, I squirmed, but I couldn't even kick my injured foot out, couldn't stretch and push away from him with it. Couldn't bash my bruised knee into his leg. I couldn't do much of anything except accept it, cry out, process the pain.

Oh, how I processed the pain. It was brutal but it was teetering on the edge of orgasmic. My brain really, really processed it. It took that pain and wrung every morsel of feeling out of it, through the entire gamut from true discomfort to bliss. He wasn't holding back either, or if he was I couldn't tell. It hurt, and it felt incredible, all at once.

I carefully turned onto my other side, my back toward him, and he had an even better swing now, even more force into my backside. He brought a flogger into play then, smacking the heavy rope strands into my back, my ass, the backs of my legs. It felt incredibly heavy, nearly unbearable, and my body writhed. My foot wanted to push against the mattress, to stretch and to fight, but I had to keep it still or suffer even more.

"You can't get away from me," he growled into my ear, his free hand tangling into and tugging on my hair, "and I think I will fuck you tonight."

I whimpered in response, feeling my body respond, swell, lubricate for the fucking he was promising. But not yet.

My arms were over my head to protect my face and neck from any stray strands of the flogger, and he was taking a break, dragging the soft trailing nylon ends against my skin, making me purr. And then he targeted my breasts - a heavy smack of the heavy rope into my nipple. A knot caught me right on center and the breath whooshed out of me.

"Oh fuck," I breathed out, stretching as much as I could, thrusting my chest forward for more. Holy shit, that was incredible. I can't remember the last time he'd flogged my breasts and my breast was singing a hallelujah chorus of delight while my nipple simultaneously screamed in pain.

"Oh, I think you like that," he growled as he did it again, and again, and again. I screamed for the joy of it, for the pain of it when a knot would catch my nipple again, about every third strike.

"Don't even think of trying to get away," he said, trading the flogger for a braided version that terrifies me when he uses it on my ass. The nylon braids stroked my screaming nipple, made me gasp and whimper. "Writhe for me, girl, writhe. Good fuck toy," he whispered into my ear, swinging the braids down hard against my breast. "If you try to get away, I'll just have to drag you back and beat you more. Can you imagine how much that would hurt?"

I nodded, whimpering with a kind of aroused fear that is completely unique. The thought of him dragging me back to him and beating me after I'd tried to run away on my damaged foot made me even wetter as I writhed under the heavy blows from the braided flogger.

"Oh you are turning me on, girl," he said, moving the bedclothes from between us and letting me feel his erection against my sore ass. "I do think I will have to fuck you," he continued when I moaned my pleasure at feeling him. I moaned and wriggled, leaning forward to provide him easier access to do just that.

"Good hole," he murmured, pressing his hard cock against my slippery opening and resting with just the head inside, until I wriggled.

His fingers stroked my aching nipple and I begged. "Nipple hurts," I whimpered.

"Yeah? That's interesting," he said, squeezing it tighter, making me scream. I wriggled back against him again, wanting more cock, so turned on by his control.

"You want more cock?" he asked. "You want this cock to fuck you?"

"Yes, oh, fuck me, fuck me, fuck me," I begged.

And he did. He slid inside, pulling me to him by squeezing my breasts. My ass burned where he'd beaten it, a pleasantly aching reminder when his skin brushed mine. My breasts were still singing joyfully at having been flogged, my nipple screaming in burning agony while he held it tightly, and I loved all of it.

I was so wet. Surely I was wet enough he could fuck my ass. I wanted him to fuck my ass. I wanted to feel completely invaded by him, and I shifted a little to try it.

It wouldn't even go in a little bit. Not even the tiniest, little bit. I groaned my frustration as he resumed fucking my more willing opening.

But later, he went for it himself. He pushed me forward as he fucked me. "You want me to fuck your ass, slave?" he asked. "You want your master to invade you? Would that make you feel more used?"

"Oh my God, yes," I responded, panting, insane with the want of that.

He lubed my ass while he fucked my pussy, making me groan and whimper at the fullness of his finger in my backside.

And then his cock was aimed at the opening that had already rejected him once, but this was his decision and it was going in. As the head made it through I screamed, groaned, and bucked. So intense. Too intense. Couldn't handle it. My body tried to get away even as my brain relished the overload.

"Not going anywhere, fuck hole," he informed me, gripping my hair in one hand, my hip in the other, and pushing steadily onward - but slowly enough I felt properly invaded, not ripped open. It was delicious. "Going to fuck your ass now," he said, and he did.

His hand went back to my nipple, tortured me there a bit while he moved, and then moved between my legs. "Give me that pussy," he growled into my ear, and I opened my legs for him to touch me there, whimpering as his fingers contacted my sensitive clitoris. His cock never stopped moving in my ass, never stopped feeling amazing, as his fingers began to work their magic on my other bits. His thumb was on my clit and he sank some unknown (to me) number of fingers inside my pussy.

"Oh my God, too much, I can't," I groaned as he overloaded my brain with sensation and my body with fullness.

"Too much?" he asked. "No such thing. This is what you're for. You're for your master to fuck and to fill as much as he wants. Isn't that right?"

Oh God, I thought, you're right, I'm for you to fuck. 

All that could make it out through my groans was "Yes sir,"

"Your ass makes such a good fuck hole," he growled as his fingers moved in my pussy. My ass clenched on him.

Oh. And I wanted to say You like fucking my good fuck hole? but the thought of saying it was too much and I started to tremble there, impaled on his various parts.

"Oooh," he said, knowing an impending orgasm when he feels one. "My girl is going to come for me while I fuck her ass, isn't she?"

"uhhhh-huh," I groaned, tremors racing over my body.

"Go on then, fuck hole, come while I fuck your ass," he growled, and the thought of it was too much, with his fingers moving inside me, against my clit, his cock in my ass. I came screaming and wishing I could say the things in my head that were contributing to making me come.

The orgasm lasted a long time - he drew it out on purpose with his fingers, his cock, and his voice. When my body was finally limp and relaxed, he pushed against me again. "Not done with you, fuck slave," he said. "You're going to come with my cock fucking your ass again."

It's not hard for him, once he's gotten me there once, to drive me there over and over to the point of exhaustion. So that's what he did this time, finally culminating with his own orgasm.

"You want me to come in your ass, slave? You want your master to fill you up? You want to feel well-used?"

"Oh, fuck, yes," I whispered, hoarse from screaming my own pleasure, still seriously enjoying the sensations of his cock and his hand moving on my sensitive parts.

He groaned his own release into my ear, pulling me tightly to him.

As I stretched in his embrace, practically purring as my faculties of speech came back to me, I said "It's strange that you have to treat me like an object to make me feel like a person again."

He stroked my hair. "Maybe I treat you how you want to be treated, and that acknowledges your wants and desires and makes you feel like a person."

He's a smart man.

And hella sexy.

Masochist, part 2

First part is here.

"Poor, complex girl," he said, pulling me into his arms and kissing my cheek. "Good thing for you I know how to be gentle," he murmured as his hand wandered between my legs.

He does know how. His touch was soft and so so light. I purred softly as he stroked my clit with the slightest of pressure from his fingertip. . . but then his finger stopped moving, just resting against my clitoris.

He was asleep.

I groaned, moving my hips slightly against his fingertip, but it wasn't the same. I sighed loudly and turned onto my side, feeling the frustration that had already been inside me start to bubble over dangerously.

My movement woke him. "I wish I could be as good to you as you are to me," he said softly, his hand on my hip.

"You could be," I answered, a bit snappishly. "I'm not difficult. I just require you to be present." By "present," of course, I mean there with me and not drifting off elsewhere to sleep or think about Doctor Who, rather than just his physical presence. I'm right there stumped by many of Doctor Who's mysteries along with him, but I'm not thinking about it during sex.

He pulled me back toward him, his fingers finding my clit again.

"No," I whispered. "You're bored. That's not sexy. Boredom is not sexy. I'd rather not."

"That's not boredom, silly girl. That's orgasm putting me to sleep. Brain chemicals. Not boredom." And he rose to the challenge, his fingertip gliding delicately across my clit as he held me down, his leg keeping my legs open.

He was persistent, but I was having a really hard time breaking the orgasm barrier. Until he started talking. He talked about the sex we'd just had, about his cock hurting me, and then he was telling me to come for him.

"I can't," I whispered. I wasn't there.

He didn't care though, he just kept talking, and what seemed like an eternity later, I was vibrating, screaming with my arm clutching his head. But he didn't stop.

"Oooh, girl's gonna come again. Gooood fuck hole," he whispered, my world hinging on the motions of his fingertip. I flew away. The second orgasm overshadowed the first by miles.

"Oh my GOD," I screamed as I came, my body arching up and vibrating helplessly.

Still, he didn't stop. The third orgasm was heaven itself unleashed upon my brain. Screams poured from me and my fingers clutched at him, at nothing, at the bed, at whatever they could grab. I broke out into a fine sweat and I was so, so sensitive that every few seconds another orgasm was crashing over me, each one just as good as the third.

"Look at you, fuck toy," he whispered.

"I can't, I can't, I can't come anymore," I panted, just getting over another one.

"Don't give me that!" he growled. "Come for me!" he said, and I did, because his finger just kept touching me in that magic, delicate way that makes me crazy.

"Oh God, Oh, fuck, oh my GOD oh fuck," I kept panting, helpless, tossing my head, trying everything just for another breath of air.

I could feel his cock, hard against me again.

"I have this hard cock here," he said, his finger still creating waves of sensation and setting fire to my brain. "I could stick it in you, but it might hurt you. You want that? You want me to hurt you with my cock again?"

Oh my God. He really just asked me that, while my insides still burned and ached. And I did. I wanted him to fuck me again.

"Fuck, yes," I panted. "Hurt me with your cock, hurt me with your cock. Hurt me with your cock."

He managed to push me over onto my side and slide his cock inside me without taking his finger off my clit - or if he did, I didn't notice it. The burning pain I felt as he entered me was dampened by the intense joy I felt of having him inside me again so soon - and then the pain was GONE. My top leg was over his hip, and his finger just kept delivering the goodness, and he was huge and hard inside me and I screamed with the joy of it - and then he made me come again, pressing his cock as deeply as possible into me. I felt him hot and hard inside me as I spasmed, and I screamed even louder.

"So fucking good," I gasped, disbelief warring with the extreme pleasure I was feeling.

The floodgates on my own verbosity had lifted and I screamed and talked just as dirty as I could have ever asked him to. "So so good to come all over your fucking cock," I gasped out after he held me down through another orgasm.

My brain exploded somewhere around here - I'm not entirely sure what happened. But it was amazing and splendorous and the entire night made me remember why I adore this man so very much.

I do remember, after he had pulled me into his arms, that I whispered in a joking rebuke: "You didn't hurt me with your cock at all."

"I noticed," he responded, somewhat smugly.

He has a right to be smug.

Hundreds of orgasms

He pulls me in close. "You like to think about sex, don't you?" he whispers right into my ear.

"Yes sir," I answer, my voice low with my mouth buried against his neck.

"You don't just like to think about it, though, you like to hear about it. You like me to tell you, remind you what a dirty slut you are, that you are mine."

"Yes sir."

He yanks my legs apart and he hits my inner thighs, and then my pussy with a measured force that hurts, but doesn't sting so badly I try to close my legs. I whimper with each one, and eventually I am arching into them, my whimpers changing to half-moans. 

"Does this hurt, girl?" he asks, keeping his rhythm steady. My clit is hiding but the steady thump thump thump on my mound really feels good to it, despite the low-level pain on the external bits.

"Yes sir," I whimper.

"Do you like it when I hurt you, girl?"

"Yes sir," I moan. Oh, I really do.

"You like to be owned," he says, not really a question, as he moves his blows back to my thighs.

And then he stops hitting me and his fingers are sliding around, stroking my folds, dragging the wetness up to my clit, making me gasp. He holds me tightly against him, his beard is pressed into my cheek, his lips right against my ear. Later, my face will feel burned. Now, I don't notice.

"Look at you, moaning with your legs spread." The way he is holding me, his cock is pressing against the back of my hand. I turn my hand around so my fingers can encircle his erection, and he pushes it harder against me, fucking my hand.

"Feel that cock? You like the way that feels?" He waits for my head to nod against him as I release a shuddery breath, then continues. "I'm going to fuck you with it." 

I gasp, trembling. His fingers are sliding over my clit, over and over, around, over. It feels amazing but the real treat, the true centerpieces of the experience, are the words coming out of him. 

"Yeah, that's right. You're my fuck slave. My sweet little fucking slut-slave. Gonna take this cock and spread you open, invade you, fuck you. Or maybe I won't. Maybe I'll just rub it all over your face. Or let you take just the head in your mouth. Oh, you gonna come for me, bitch? Gonna come just from thinking about sucking on the head of my cock? Yeah, do it, bitch, come on, come for me, yeah, good girl."

Without the words I wouldn't be anywhere near orgasm, but with them I can't stop. I scream and arch into his touch and he just keeps talking while his fingers do the supplemental stimulation that pushes me over the edge, over and over. "Oh yeah, come for me again, bitch. Yeah, you just can't stop can you? 'cause that's how you work, once you get going you just....can't... stop. You like thinking about my cock down your throat? About me fucking your face like it's a pussy?"

"Oh, God... I can't breathe with your cock down my throat."

"Mmmm, I know, and you're so fucking helpless. You love that, don't you?"

I can't answer him, I'm too busy coming. God, the words just keep pouring out of him.

"You couldn't stop me if you wanted to, could you?"

"No sir," I pant, trying to catch my breath.

"Go on, girl, try and stop me." He tosses his leg over mine, pinning me down and open. He wants me to fight him? What? I struggle, trying to first arch up to get his leg off me, to pull away. I'm weakened by orgasms; he's stronger, pins me down, keeps me open to him, continues forcing orgasms out of me. His strength thrills me and I come again even as I struggle.

"See, girl? You're mine. Can't stop me," he drives his point home straight into my ear as I scream my pleasure.

He positions himself over me, his mouth over my left nipple. "I'm gonna bite your nipple now," he says. 

"Oh, God, that'll hurt," I whimper.

"Yes it will," he says, and closes his mouth over me. I don't feel anything at all at first, just his fingers continuing to deliver the constant stream of pleasure between my legs, and then his teeth are biting down into the tender nub of flesh atop my breast, really, really biting it. It's sharp, it hurts, I scream. I arch up - into his bite. I scream again, and his fingers close over my right nipple, hurting it even more than his teeth are hurting the left one. I scream - loudly. A monster fucking orgasm comes barreling down onto me and I spasm into him. 

"OH THAT FUCKING HURTS," I scream/growl. "FUCK YES, HURT ME, HURT ME, FUCKING HURT ME, YES, FUCK, I LOVE IT WHEN YOU HURT ME." My hands, completely free agents at this point, grab his head and press it hard against me. I don't want to lose this incredible feeling. The more I scream about loving it, the more he hurts me and the more I come. It's a feedback loop of incredibly intense proportions and oh GOD how can I come so intensely from having my nipples tortured so? But I do. He makes self-satisfied "mmhmm" noises. How someone can manage to sound so in control with his mouth full of nipple I'll never know.

I lose all track of time as the orgasms wash over me. Eventually he stops biting/pinching my nipples, but still I am completely owned, his voice has wrapped around my brain and I will do anything he tells me - including come.

"You want to suck my cock now?" he asks, years later, as I am gasping for air, spent, my heart pounding so hard I can feel it everywhere. The guttural noise of anticipation that comes from me is partially caused by the roughness in my voice from all the screaming, but it's mostly a genuine expression of desire. His cock has been fucking into my hand for ages now, and I really, really want it inside me. Anywhere. 

"Yes sir," I gasp out, taking my face from his neck to look up at him. He's still touching me, still slowly delivering orgasms as he speaks. 

"Or I could fuck your pussy," he says, pausing, clearly waiting for my response. 

"Mmmhmm," I respond.

"Or your ass," he says, just as casually. 

"Mmmhmmm," I say. "Want your cock inside me," I beg, squeezing it with my hand, my hips still moving to his touch as another orgasm slowly builds.

"And you don't care where, huh?"

"Just want your cock inside me," I repeat. 

"Fuck-slave," he says.

"Yes sir," I agree, though his words shake me and my words come out even more tremulous than they had been.

"Suck it, then, slave," he orders.

"Yes Master," I say as I move. I lick all along his shaft first, getting it good and slippery before I slide my mouth on it in one smooth gliding stroke, making sure to compress the head the way he likes as it passes my lips. We both groan as his cock slides to the back of my throat.

He grabs onto my hair, tightening his hands into fists, and I scream around the hard flesh in my mouth. Oh, I do love it. The anticipation is driving me mad, and then his hips start moving.  "Ohh, good fuck hole," he says. "My good fuck hole. Is it hard for you to breathe when I fuck your face like this, fuck hole?"

"Mmmhmm!" I manage to respond even as he keeps driving his cock all the way into my face. I'm sure my excitement about the entire situation is blatantly obvious.

"I don't care," he says, and I squeal with a new flush of arousal. His cock in my throat cuts off my squeal. "Just take it," he growls. His hips are moving smoothly, his cock never completely leaves my mouth, and we are both really, really enjoying ourselves. My tongue rolls over his cock as it plunders my mouth and I suck until he enters my throat, which makes pretty much any active participation difficult.

He gathers up all of my hair and hauls up on my head, popping his cock out of my mouth. It strains toward me, slick with my saliva, shiny, wanting. I open my mouth to take it in and start to move back down, but he has all of my hair in his fist. I moan helplessly.

"What's the matter, girl? Wanna suck the cock?"

"Uh-huh," I squeal, my head held captive by the hair.

"Go on, then, girl, suck the cock. What's stopping you?" He keeps holding my hair as I pull against it, feeling more and more tension as I try with all my might to take his cock in my mouth. I cry out with arousal and frustration - it so turns me on when he tells me to do something he's preventing me from doing, and added to that that he is forcing me to pull my own hair - oh, he is a diabolical sexy genius. I am panting, pulling, a stream of frustrated cries coming from my mouth. I can just barely reach the head of his cock with my tongue, and so I do. It darts out to lick and I moan as my tongue strokes over the smooth surface. I want it in my mouth! Why won't he just let me?

"How badly you want that cock, girl?" he asks over my frustrated squeals.

"Oh, God, fuck my face!" I beg.

He lets go of my hair, then, and taunts me between his own pleased noises as I consume him. "Horny slut," he murmurs, "I never did see a girl want a cock in her mouth so badly she almost pulls out her own hair."

He fucks my face, holding my head. "Maybe I should fuck your pussy now," he says. "I could get on top of you, hold you down, fuck you. You'd like that, wouldn't you?" 

My ability to respond is limited to "mmhmm," but I make it a good one. 

"Or I could fuck you sideways... fuck you from behind.. put you on the ramp. I could fuck your ass." He keeps talking and I keep sucking, responding to each suggestion with equal enthusiasm. I just love fucking him any way he wants.

"Oh but you really like the cock in your pretty face, don't you?" he asks. 

"Mmhmm," I agree, and I do, especially now after I had to work so hard for it. I wrap my arms around him, grip his ass, pull him into me hard, take him as deeply into my throat as I can and leave him there until I must breathe. I pull away to inhale great lungfuls of air and then repeat the entire thing, over and over. Oh, it's amazing. It's really, really amazing. He's loving it too, and eventually he's coming into my face.

"Oh, fuck, yes, take it down your throat, girl," he whispers, holding my head tightly against him as I swallow.

I keep sucking him for a long, long time, long after his cock has deflated and resumed its previous unassuming size. Eventually he pulls me up into his arms again, and we talk for a while about submission, about evolution and hard-wiring. I wind up feeling a little hurt and I go silent, but he's not having that, and we talk even more, until the entire thing is a nonissue because honestly he's incredible.

And then his fingers are exploring me again, but now I'm on my stomach and he's sliding his thumb inside me while his fingers stroke my clit, and he's saying something.

"Gonna come for me, girl?" he says. I shake my head, I'm not quite there. 

"Yes you are," he says, "don't even bother trying to fight it. You're my fuck-slave and you'll fucking come for me when I tell you to. Now come for me!"

The entire speech sends me rocketing off into orgasm-land, much-aided by his manual ministrations, of course. After I settle, I feel his cock, hard again. "Turn on your side and give me your pussy," he says.

I do, facing away from him, bent over. I might have liked him atop me better, but it's gotten very late and we're probably both too spent for that. His cock slides into me easily because I'm soaked with arousal, and we both enjoy that sensation. He drags my top leg backward over his hip so he can stimulate my clit while we move together. 

I move my hand down to feel his cock as it moves in and out of me. It's a busy area - his hand on my clit, my hand on the base of his cock, our bodies fucking. It's sex. It's the definition of sex and it is very, very, sexy. I groan. "Let me suck it again," I whisper.

He does. I suck him down my throat, a very enjoyable repeat of what we'd already done, flavored now with the countless orgasms I'd already had. When he comes again, he comes for a long time. It feels pretty intense from where I am. Some of it comes out of my nose, but not enough to burn.

His fingers are on me again, stroking my clit as he kisses me hotly. My body is his plaything; it responds to his touch quickly since I am already so very very primed.

"Gonna come for me?" he asks as my body arches up. I shake my head, not there yet, and he speaks again. "Yes Master. I'll come whenever you tell me to, Master."

Oh my God what is he doing? Oh, fuck, I have to say that. Oh, oh, oh my God. "Yes, Master," I manage, and the orgasm starts to overtake me as the words leave. "I-i-i'll come..." oh, fuck, I'm screaming, it's too much, "whenever you tell me to, Master," I finally manage to eke out the rest of the sentence between my spasms of pleasure and my screams of joy.

He gently soothes my flesh as I come down, kissing me, stroking my body. I am full of things to thank him for.

"Thank you for coming down my throat twice. Thank you for all the orgasms. Thank you for fucking me. Thank you for hurting me. Thank you for talking to me, and making me talk back to you."

He squeezes me close. "Thank you for being mine."

I purr. We are a pile of arms and legs, my head on his shoulder as we drift off to sleep.

The Cure

I am highly, highly oversexed. I don't like that word because it makes it sound like I have too much sex, when in fact what it means is there is no such thing for me. I think about sex constantly. I may stop thinking about it for a minute or two at a time, but thinking about sex is my general state of being.

It's only natural that when the time allowed me, I'd start writing it too.

Being monogamously married to and owned by a man I adore is wonderful, but it sometimes carries a woeful amount of misunderstandings with it.

I get sad when we are not having some kind of sex at least every day. I'd prefer multiple times. We compromise and I think we're both pretty happy with where things are. Sometimes, though, life gets in the way for a day or two (or God forbid three or four) and it just doesn't happen. Sadness overtakes me then. I'm still thinking about sex all the time, but not having any, and I feel pathetic and undesirable. Things I could normally get through give me difficulty. Lethargy sets in, I feel depressed, I wonder what the point is to anything. Even through the fog of sadness I still read and think about sex, which just fuels the depression but isn't something I can shut off.

So he senses my sadness, or in some cases, he outright sees it. I cry easily and am overwhelmed by parts of life I should have under control. I lie awake well into the early morning, unable to fall asleep. He sees these things and he holds me, comforts me. Herein lies the miscommunication. He sees his girl sad and laden with woe and, not being turned on by sadness, he holds her through yet another sexless night. I feel even more worthless because the one thing I want is being retarded by my very reaction to not getting it. I despair, sunk deep in the self-digging hole.

I tell him this, trying to shine a tiny light of knowledge up at him from the bottom of my pit. I tell him that the words he once spoke to me years ago echo in my head, making me keep my silence. "It's hard to want a girl who's sad all the time."

By some miracle, he gets it. Not immediately, but quickly, after I choke back a sob to tell him that that's a self-digging hole. I start to say something else, but his palm is pressing on my face, pressing against my nose, covering my mouth. I moan. His hand moves, pressing against the other side of my nose, squeezing my face. "You were going to say, girl?" he asks, and his voice has changed. The solicitousness is gone, and in its place is a rough, dark rasp. His legs are none too gentle with mine as he yanks them apart.

His feet dig into my calf as he pulls my legs open, and it hurts. "Ouch!" I say, but my thoughts are already captured in the present moment as he climbs between my legs. There is no room for sadness in the suddenly electric atmosphere he has created. If he's acting, he's very good at it.

"You were going to say, girl?" he asks again, his hand pressing all over my face, tangling in my hair, tugging it until I gasp with the sheer joy of it.

"N-nothing," I gasp.

He's moved across me now, on my other side. So much of what happens is a glorious, glorious blur. He's spanking me, his hand delivering sharp stinging blows to my backside. He buries the whole of the thenar and a good chunk of the thumb of his free hand in my mouth, and I am biting down into it, screaming into his hand while he tortures my nipples.

"Do you just have nothing to say when your body is being slowly reduced," he pauses to hurt me more, to make me scream louder into the amazingly effective gag that is his hand, "mmmm... being reduced to fuck meat?"

I scream. The hand not in my mouth is touching my pussy, my clit. "Fuck meat," he said, and I scream and scream and scream. It's primal, what those words are doing to me, and I can't properly record anything before or after the ground zero of those words. That moment is shining and brilliant and all the other bits around it, amazing though they are, fade.

He makes me come. "Oh, it's been far too long since you've come for me," he says. "You're going to do that now, aren't you, fuck toy? You're going to come for your master now." My head is slowly arching back away from him as he talks, as his fingers work their magic on my sex. It feels to me like the whole thing happens in slow motion, as my body tenses and I am crying out, all the tension releasing as I come and come and come. My legs shake against him. "Oh look at you, no self-control at all," he says, and he is right. He controls me. He makes me come again, tugging my head backwards by the hair until my groans of delight deepen into guttural grunts. I am bent very far back when he finally lets go.

He won't fuck me with his cock. He suggests it, he teases, he makes fun of me, makes me beg. "Look at you. Why would I give you my cock now? In the state you're in you'd never give it back. Would you?"

I moan my negative response, tossing my head as his fingers fuck me.

"See. I'd never get my cock back. What does that make you?"

I don't answer immediately because I am screaming. He teases me to orgasm with his words. "A slut," I answer, my voice cracking because I have reservations about calling myself that.

"My slut," he clarifies, and he is kissing me.

Finally I have begged prettily enough, and he is atop me sliding his cock inside. I groan as he fills me. He feels amazing. I fuck him from beneath, just really driven wild by everything that has happened so far.

I'm falling. I'm falling, I'm flying, into an abyss and he's holding me there under him by my hair. That must be why he's pulling it so hard. His kisses are hot and urgent and he is forcing me to stay there when I would float away. I hear my own screams as if from a distance and I want to be in this moment - this moment - forever. My head is spinning, my sense of balance is all out of whack, and he just keeps driving his cock into me, drawing the screams from me with every thrust and every tug of my hair.

"I think it's your turn," he says. "I think you should get on top of me and fuck me."

"Anything you want," I gasp out breathlessly, unable to really catch up to the situation. A whole lot of delicious things have whizzed by me that I couldn't fully assimilate. Mostly fantastically dirty things he has said that made me scream in the moment but are now lost forever because my brain is overloaded. I'll take it though.

"That's right," he says, "anything I want." He rolls off me onto his back, waiting.

I dive after his cock with my mouth. It tastes sweet and salty and I moan as I lick it all over.

"Oooh, I didn't say you could suck the cock," he admonishes me. "But I suppose you're just a cocksucker who couldn't resist, huh?" I give his cock a long swirling suck for answer as I pull my mouth away, and then I am lifting my leg over him.

"Oh yes, give me that pussy," he says as I lower myself onto him, as his cock presses up into me. He grabs my hips and I scream. His hardness has never felt like this before. "I think you know what to do," he growls as I begin to slowly rotate my hips, gasping as I feel all the new sensations that changing positions like this causes.

It really doesn't take long before it starts to feel amazing. His hands are on my hips and when I start to scream he keeps moving me the way I was moving before. I am screaming, he is moaning deeply, and we are coming at the same time.

I lay on his chest for long, long minutes afterward, kissing his neck and shoulders, rotating my hips against him, listening to his soft sounds of pleasure as we both catch our breath.

After I roll off into his arms, I kiss him again, softly and with great respect and tenderness. "Thank you for rescuing me, sweet master," I whisper against his lips.

He's already half asleep, but he squeezes me tightly against him. "Love my girl," he answers.

Carnal magic

"Turn over so I can beat you," he says. We've just been chatting on the bed and it's pretty late.

"Don't you mean turn over so we can go to sleep?" I ask.

"No... turn over so I can beat you," he repeats.

I turn over. I know better than to argue further. "I like my idea better," I sass into the pillow.

"Sure you do," he says, knowing I lie through my teeth. He shoves my shirt up halfway my back, smacks my ass with his hand until I yelp. Then he starts flogging me with a soft lovely caressing flogger that makes me sigh with pleasure. "You like that, girl?" he asks.

I do.

He switches - a hard thudding flogger that makes me yelp as it thumps into me. "You like THAT, girl?" he asks.

I do.

He switches again. I lose track. I can feel my ass warming up as he keeps switching floggers. When he switches back to the lovely soft one, it actually hurts a little.

"Oh, this ass is starting to be a nice shade of red," he says.

He uses the crop on me after I am already red. The tops of my thighs get special attention. I lift my ass into it, as the pain transmutes into pleasure, as the burn makes me wet.

He finishes soon after the crop - first his hand smacks into me a few times for good measure.

"Be naked," he says, and so I am.

He kisses me, pulls me to him, lets his hands wander over my body. His teeth find my nipple, bite it until I squeal with pleasure/pain, and then his hands are spanking my breasts, making me moan.

His fingers wander between my thighs, find the incredible wetness there, tease me. He spanks my inner thighs with his hand, over and over, covering all of the flesh there until it burns and I try to close my legs. He knocks them apart and continues spanking them. I close them again, he knocks them apart - three, four times.

I am moaning, my thighs are burning, and he starts slapping my pussy. My soaking wet pussy that wants him to fuck it. He slaps at an angle, into my mound, and I am halfway to an orgasm already. It feels amazing until it starts to hurt. I whimper.  "Am I hurting your poor pussy?" he asks, his voice dripping with false concern.

"Yes," I squeal as he slaps me there again.

"Does your pussy want me?" he asks. He stops slapping me, lets his fingers stroke my clit - my throbbing, needy clit. I moan.

"Yes," I murmur. It's bloody obvious anyway.

"Does your mouth want me?" he continues.

"Yes," I answer.

"Does your ass want me?" he finishes.

I moan.

"What a slut that makes you. My slut," he growls into my ear, his hand tugging on my hair.

"Get on top of me," he says, and so I do. Carnal magic. He conjures sex.

My clit grinds against him as I rock. It's too much, too good.

"You're coming, aren't you? Yeah, fuck yeah, come for me," he says, and I must.

"You want to get off me?" he asks, later, knowing my arms must be tired.

I don't.

"I'll still fuck you," he promises. "Or maybe you'd like to suck my cock?"

I moan.

"Yeah. You want this hard, wet cock fucking your face, don't you?" He slaps my ass, forces me to rock atop him, and I am coming again as he talks.

My wrists are complaining and so I lift off him, slide down between his legs, take the slick hardness of him in my mouth. He is salty, sweet, intoxicating, all the arousal he has generated in me making him taste like that.

My wrists don't like this either, after a while. I roll to my side, and he is in my mouth again, fucking into my throat, holding my head. I start to pull away - it is too much, my throat hurts, my stomach isn't sure how it feels - but he grabs me, holds me, is fucking my face regardless. I know if I could get a word in he would stop, but at the moment I don't want to get a word in.

"Turn over so I can fuck your ass," he orders, pulling his cock from my mouth. He slaps my face with his cock - with his hard, heavy cock. It surprises me and I squeal. He does it again. He likes to make me squeal. Finally he stops, and I whimper as I obey. It's been a long time since we've had anal sex. I try to relax, but that's like trying not to think about something; it doesn't work that well.

His fingers are cool and slippery and feel nice when they touch my tiny hole, but I am so sensitive that I shriek, squirming away a little. He holds me still, slides his fingers deep inside me there. It feels amazing.

He stops, too soon. To take so long with sex in general and yet to rush this part feels so wasteful. His cock presses against me now, and I groan. It's not going to work.

"Give me that ass," he growls, and that sends a rush of heat through me. I try. I push back on him, but it's not going to work. He adds lube, but it's like his cock hit a wall, and as I wriggle, almost-but-not-quite-impaled on the end of his cock, I feel him softening, losing the rigidity that is a must to enter this particular territory.

Not easily discouraged from sex in general, he pulls away to replace his cock with his fingers. They slide inside my ass, inside my pussy, fuck me in both places at once. I scream with the pure joy of it. He adds even more lube. "I think your ass likes that," he says as I moan deeply, helplessly. "I think I should find something to plug it with."

It takes him a moment to locate, but he finds it: The Big End. SO BIG. I am on my belly as he presses it in, and I moan. "You can take it," he says, knowing he's put it there before. I scream as it finally passes the largest part, locking itself inside me. I am panting, but then his fingers are stroking my clit, sliding inside my pussy. I am screaming again because I am so sensitive and I am coming, again, again, again."Oh my God," I beg as I try to catch a breath between orgasms, but that is all he lets me say before he wriggles his finger and makes me come again, again, again.

I am twisting, sweating, panting. I can't. "I can't," I pant, but he is not about to let me finish a thought. More, more, more. I scream and I come and come and come. I feel his cock hardening against my thigh as my screams lengthen and grow hoarser.

"You can't what, girl? Can't stop? Who said you could stop?" he asks. His finger drives me insane and makes me scream until I think I might explode.

"I am going to fuck you," he whispers into my ear. "Right after I'm done making you come."

I writhe. I am a fuck puppet, nothing but a neverending orgasm, a helpless mass of twitching nerve endings.

"Turn over and give me your pussy," he finally says. I can barely breathe, much less move. I claw at the mattress to help me turn over on my side.

His cock slides into me - forces its way into me. "SO FULL!" I exclaim as he slowly drives into me.

"So mine," he growls. "So nice of you to stop coming for a second so I could get my cock in you." He grabs me, and begins to thrust into me in earnest, moving my body against him like a rag doll. "But if you still want to come, don't let me stop you," he says, fucking into me harder. The plug is forcing his cock into my g-spot and it doesn't take long before I am screaming again, a final orgasm ripping through me. I squeal helplessly as it shakes me, and he makes a noise - a contented hunter's noise, as he fucks me right into his own climax.

"You're so fucking incredible," I whisper hoarsely as his arm around my waist pulls me closer to him, as I gather enough energy for actual words. My mind is blown.

"You're pretty incredible yourself," he says.

As long as he wants to, I'll let him keep thinking that.

Forced helplessness

There's a certain aspect of D/s sexual interaction that really gets me going: Being punished, chastised, or otherwise taken to task for something the bottom has no control over, or something the top has actively caused.

Usually the only place I get to see these scenarios is in bad snuff fiction with psychopathic kidnapping murderers, but something over on aisha's the other day triggered my "yummy!" sensor. I thought my husband was aware of this kink of mine, but turns out it must have been buried under all the other kinks of mine littering his poor brain. So when I started talking about it, he got pretty excited. Apparently he likes to learn things about me he either doesn't know or has forgotten.

What followed that conversation was experimental on his part, and very, very intense for me.

---

"Why did you like that spoon on your face so much?" he asked, stroking my cheek, covering my face with his hand and pressing hard.

"I dunno," I moaned against his palm, then, giving it a little more thought, "I like it when you do things to my face." I'm pretty sure that was already obvious since I was sort of melting into him, moving my face into his hand as it roamed.

"Hmm," he pondered, kissing me, stroking my face all over, "I think there's a part of you... that wants me to slap it."

I moaned.

"But I said I wouldn't do that, didn't I? That I wouldn't slap the pretty girl's face.." he lifted his hand from my cheek, pausing as if to slap me, but he didn't. I felt my whole body flush, and suddenly I was hot.

He moved his hand, slapped my breasts one at a time, kept talking about slapping my face. His exact words are lost in the roar of blood in my ears, in the sounds of his hand smacking into my breasts over and over. His lips claimed mine eventually, kissing me senseless while his hand gripped my hair, tugging my face into him, pulling my hair, making me cry out.

"I'm surprised you don't fight back more," he said as he slapped my breasts.

"You don't like that," I answered softly.

"I suppose a submissive girl might just like to submit," he continued.

"I like to fight," I whispered, even lower.

"That's right, you do," he murmured. "I suppose I might like to feel wanted... like you're just saying 'Here I am. I'm yours, do as you wish with me.'" I was on my back next to him, he was on his side facing me. My right leg was trapped between both of his, his leg tossed over my hip and bent so it crossed my leg a second time. His hand was in my hair, his other hand gripping my throat as he kissed me, as he spoke those words. His fingers moved from my throat down my front, toying with my nipples, slipping lower, lower, until he parted my sex.

I nearly screamed when he drew my wetness over my clit. I spasmed, my trapped leg trying to pull away.

"Where is that leg trying to go?"

"Nowhere," I hurried to answer. I wasn't quite sure what he had planned, wasn't sure of anything except how very turned on I was. So I answered honestly.

"You like having your legs forced apart," he noted as I moaned when his leg tightened on mine, dragged it further away from my other one.

"Uh-huh," I answered, his fingers on my sex pretty much robbing me of intelligent language.

"Are you my slut?"

"Uh-huh." I would have agreed to almost anything at that point, but then I started thinking.

"Are you a cock slut?" His fingers, God, his fingers, making me crazy, how can I think, how can I have this conversation?

"Nooo," I protested.

"No? What kind of slut are you, then?"

"Nooo," I argued, brilliantly.

"You don't get to say no now, girl, it's too late. Cock slut. You want this cock to fuck you, don't you?" he asked, his fingers sliding inside me, making me buck up into his hand.

"Uh-huh," I said, twisting.

"So why don't you turn on your side and let me fuck you from behind then?" he said, a little edge to his voice that should have warned me something was up.

I tried. I really, really tried. But the way he was holding me, I couldn't turn. Each time I tried to turn, I felt the muscles of his legs tense around me, holding me in place, holding me open. "Come on, cock slut, just turn over. I guess you don't want it bad enough. I guess you don't want to be fucked from behind at all." His finger moved, faster and faster, lighter and lighter, on my clit, and my body arched up off the bed, still trying to turn, but unable. That is when the orgasm hit me, as his words crashed into me without letup, as his finger worked its magic, as he held me in place even as I tried to do what he told me.

Fuck, yes, I came. How could I not?

"Silly slut can't even do what she's told," he murmured into my ear as I panted. "I guess you don't really want it - but guess what? I want it. I guess I'll just have to show you how it's done." With that, he took his leg off me and roughly - roughly - shoved me over onto my side. I can't even tell you what that I want it did to me. Just whoa.

"Give me that pussy," he growled as he prodded the head of his cock into me. But his hand was on my ass, pressing me forward. Oh, fuck. I tried to back onto him, to feel him filling me, but he pushed on me just enough so I could get about half his cock inside. "Come on, girl, give it to me," he growled again, as I tried to find some leverage on our featureless bed to press against. My hands slid helplessly over the smooth sheets, we don't have a headboard, pressing into the wall would be the wrong direction. I moaned deeply, frustrated, even as I felt myself grow impossibly wetter.

"I guess you really don't want it that badly," he whispered, grabbing ahold of me and yanking me all the way onto him, filling me up by ramming us into each other. I squealed as he hit bottom, stretching me out suddenly and quickly. Fuck.

---

"You're my property, aren't you?" he murmured, long minutes later, my legs splayed open, one wrapped behind his back, his fingers stroking my clit while he fucked me.

"Yes, yes, yes," I panted.

"Putty in my fingers, aren't you?" he asked. "Do whatever I tell you?"

"Uh-huh," I groaned, as those very fingers drove me insane with pleasure.

"Turn over and suck my cock, then," he said.

He let me, though I moved slowly, like one in a dream. I love the taste of me on him, of us together like that. I licked slowly up his length, tasting, before I let myself suck him in.

"Oh, that's a good girl, good girl likes to suck the cock, doesn't she?"

He was fucking into my throat, pulling my hair, telling me what a good fuckhole I am when our poor sick munchkin came zombying into the room. At least the kid has good timing and it was a good moment for interruption.

It was more a laugh and a "Poor baby" than a scream of frustration, at least for me.

And we finished, later, after settling the poor kid down. That story is less defined in my memory, though.

But holy hell, what a first outing for the bits of 'new' knowledge.

---

Somewhere up there, in our conversation, we were talking about him beating me, and he said "But it's so much fun!"

I don't know where it fits in the greater narrative, but it definitely struck a happy chord inside this girl and I wanted to make sure I mentioned it.

Too hot to handle

Overwhelmed may begin to describe it; I don't know if I can do a fair job of it beyond that. I do know that I spent a good deal of time just reliving the wonder of it in my head. Sometimes, the man I married is so truly magnificent that I can't understand what he is doing with me - with any human. Surely he should be consort to a goddess somewhere.

There was a thing between us. It was just a tiny thing, said by him in the heat of the moment, but it'd been under my skin for days. It's so rare that we argue, that he says anything at all hurtful, that this was major. I withdrew. I still participated in our marriage, still enjoyed his company, but during quiet moments those words came back to me, made me sad all over again.

He held me in his arms last night, and after several failed kisses, he extracted the problem from me. "But that was days ago!" he said, sounding surprised.

He apologized. It was sincere, and as his words melted the protective ice around my heart, I melted against his side. When his lips came down on mine again, his hand on my throat, a moan rose up to greet him as I kissed him back. I gloried in it as he claimed my mouth, little whimpers of release finally escaping. The ecstasy of belonging to him was unleashed on my brain again, a flush of excitement, of submission, creeping all over my body as our lips danced. "I want to keep you safe from the monsters," he whispered. "I want to make love to you. And I want to use you as my fuck toy."

I whimpered, all of those words hitting me in all the right spots, turning me to a quivering mess. "Do those things conflict?" he asked.

No pain, all gain

His hand brushed my nipple and I jumped. It was so sensitive. "Oooh, does girl like that?" he asked, doing it again. I whined. My stomach was unhappy and there seems to be some sort of direct connection between my stomach and my nipple. Normally, yes, I would have loved it.

Now, I covered my nipple with my hand. "So sensitive, and my stomach feels icky," I explained.

"Poor baby," he said, moving his hand elsewhere, delicately stroking the skin of my throat, the upper slope of my breasts, my back. I made little breathless sounds of pleasure as he raised goosebumps all over me. "I'll leave your nipples alone - for tonight." I should hope he wouldn't leave them alone for longer.

He was holding me on his arm, my head nestled against his shoulder. My back had been turned to him but I rolled over more to give him better access to my front. My left wrist moved to find itself captured by his left hand. Oh, I love that. I twisted my wrist a little in the loose circle of his fingers.

"Should I stop this?" he asked, his fingers lightly dancing, sweeping, chasing tingles all over my body. Oh, his magic, magic fingers.

"Oh, you should," I whispered reluctantly, between my little moans of pleasure. I didn't want him to, but should was a different matter altogether.

"Why should I?" he asked, not stopping.

"Mmm, mmm.. it's late," I answered. We'd used the entire weekend up on fun activities and he had to be at work in the morning.

"Oh, is that all?"

"Uh-huh, were you expecting a different answer?"

He let his fingers drift over my throat, down my side. I was purring. "No. Just glad I didn't get a different answer."

He kept stroking me, whispering words of affection, drawing the pleasure out for an eternity. My legs spread wider and wider, but he hadn't yet touched me between them. I was humping the air by the time the side of his hand brushed against my folds. I jumped, a little shriek of delight and stimulation making its way out of my lips. "Ahh, is that sensitive like your nipple?" he asked, his fingers gently stroking my sensitive surfaces, not yet intruding.

"It is, but it doesn't make me feel sick," I answered, arching up, desperate for his fingertip to delve a little deeper.

He obliged me. "That's good. I'd hate to make you feel sick," he said, slipping his finger between my folds, running the tip around my opening, and up, up, up. He stopped just short of my clit, the little bud throbbing, begging for his attention.

I groaned deeply and tilted my hips, trying to guide his finger to that magic spot. God, how ridiculous I must look, I thought to myself, before he banished all thoughts by letting his finger glide up against my clit. I moaned deeply with pleasure and rocked my hips against his finger.

He is so good at this. I was lost. A little orgasm didn't take very long from my extreme state of arousal, but he kept going, not satisfied with the little cries and the little involuntary kicks.

"So good to fuck you. Such a good fuck hole," he murmured. I squealed. His words, so harsh, contrasting not only with the softness of his voice but with his actual actions, burrowed deep into me and chained me to him. I could feel myself grow even wetter. His fingertips gathered some of the extra moisture around my opening and spread it to my clit, where he kept his fingers moving quickly and lightly, making my body dance to his rhythm.

Another orgasm, and I writhed. Another, and my legs were spreading wide, my hips lifting as he touched me. I wasn't even sure if I was trying to move with him or get away from him. His finger never did slide inside me - just rocked against my clit as I thrashed next to him, whimpering, moaning, crying out. I could feel his hard cock pressing against my hip, but he was ignoring it in favor of tormenting me with endless pleasure. I lost count of the orgasms. My body was sweating lightly in the cool air and was arching up and down, my head lifting off the pillow and tossing itself back down again as I spasmed over and over and over, as he told me again and again to come for him.

"No," I said once, breathlessly, unable to summon the energy.

"Sure, you can come for me," he said, his finger continuing to move so lightly and so quickly. And I did. I couldn't stop myself.

"Good girl does what she's told," he murmured, pressing a kiss to my temple. "Isn't it amazing how much pleasure you can bring a girl with one little fingertip?"

I could only pant my agreement.

When I was utterly spent, he slowly, slowly stopped, weaning my clit off the attention. I could still feel his cock pressing against my hip.

"Going to fuck you with my cock now," he said, his hand on my hip.

"Mmhmm," I agreed heartily, ready for that. So wet. He'd made me feel incredible already but I am always up for more if I'm not already asleep.

I turned to face away from him, leaned forward so my body was at an angle to his, and tossed my top leg backward over his. Such a lovely position. His cock slid inside my wetness easily, but he took his time about giving it all to me - just a little at a time, nice and slow. I was panting for it by the time our bodies were pressed together.

His finger found my clit again, something that particular position really, really has going for it. Already sensitized by the dozens of orgasms he'd just drawn from me, it didn't take long before he had me there again, at the shaking, trembling edge of the chasm. Another slow gentle nudge, a sexy word rasped out just for me, and I was tumbling over. Oh, ye gods, the pleasure. I was out of my mind with it.

Orgasms around his cock are divine - especially when I am trying to get away because he's already driven so many out of me. I was so, so sensitive, and as he gently prodded a third orgasm in this second set out of me with his finger, I writhed, squirming and kicking, trying to close my legs, to turn slightly away. I was breathless; reedy, helpless cries and pants were coming from me as I struggled to get enough oxygen to make the noises he was spurring from me. He wasn't having any of my escape. Despite his tenderness, the love burning out of him into me, he was firm. He was having what he wanted, and what he wanted was for me to come on his cock. Repeatedly.

"Oh, God, you're making me come all over your cock," I panted, realization dawning that the orgasms hadn't been convenient side effects of what he was doing.

"That's right, girl. Go on, come for me."

I did. I came, the most powerful orgasm yet washing over me, making me cry out. My legs shook from the sheer intensity of it - I could feel my lips start to go numb. As I writhed and shook, I could feel him throbbing within me, his own climax brought about by either my screams, my shaking, or the involuntary pulsing of my muscles around him.

We lay connected like that, our hands slowly stroking each other as his cock softened inside me. My screams and gasps for air had dried my throat out something terrible, though, and eventually I stirred to ask for water. He came back with it and let me drink before getting back in bed.

"I like the power I have over you," he whispered as he gathered me into his arms.

"I do, too," I answered softly.

Two for one

"Your nipples are sensitive and need toughening." It started as a joke, we were reading The Claiming of Sleeping Beauty, and that's a line in the novel. His fingers began toying with my nipples as we continued reading our chapters, making me squirm long before we put the book down.

When we did, his fingers began tracing delicate trails all over my back before I could turn over. His beard brushed against my lower back, his hands exploring my ass. "It's been a long time since your body's been properly touched."

He touched my back until I was purring with pleasure, and then he pulled out a wooden ruler and began to spank me with it. "You're getting nice and red back here," he said, and switched implements.

Something unfamiliar, painful, hard but bouncy. "What IS that?" I asked, already a little foggy with desire.

"What is this? Hm. I think it's commonly called a belt. How does it feel?"

"I like it," I gasped out between cries. It hurt, deep, thudding pain with a sting in the head, but it was good, like deep tissue massage. I could not hold still as he applied it to my rear, though. I squirmed and wiggled and lifted my ass and lowered it again - but he kept right on.

He switched implements again - the braided flogger, snapping across my back and across the places on my ass where he'd been belting me. It felt much like the belt, with more texture. I gasped as it landed over my back, raising my ass to provide a better target.

He knocked my knees apart roughly, and started spanking my sensitive inner thighs. I was still on all fours, a new position for this sort of spanking, and I cried out over and over. He wasn't playing around, his hand smacked roughly into my flesh and I gasped and cried out and he mocked me. My pussy was already spread and helpless from the position so when he started spanking it, I was even more sensitive. I squirmed and panted and little screams came out of me. Oh, hell, my clit, the position made my clit more sensitive and more involved in the spanking, oh, hell.

His fingers spread me open, finding my wetness. "Oh, wow. I think someone likes being used, being beaten... being touched. Does this feel good, slut?" he asked, his finger slowly circling my clit.

"Uh-huh," I moaned, squirming.

"I didn't realize we'd moved on to the feeling good portion. I thought we were still in the pain portion," he said, pulling his hand away, looking for something. "Oh, wait, there's no difference, is there?"

"No," I whispered.

"Well, no difference for you.. I suppose if I asked you to pleasure me, you'd know not to hurt me, wouldn't you?"

"Yes sir."

"Good girl. You like everything, don't you my girl? I can think of something else you might like." He reached across me, his arm across my lower back holding me down, and lubricated my ass. He slid the mood naughty plug into me as I writhed. "Take it, girl," he whispered as he pressed it all the way in.

"Turn and face me," he said then.

I did, exclaiming as I rolled toward the lamp. My hair was all over my face at this point, but the light was still bright.

"Is the light too bright for you, fuck toy?"

"Mmhmm," I murmured, trying to duck my head close to his chest.

"But I want to look at you. You don't mind if I look at you, do you, fuck toy?"

"No sir." I shuddered as the words left me.

"But... it might be nice to switch to candlelight," he conceded, and leaned over to light a candle.

When he turned back over, he seized on my breasts and nipples. Breast torture. Oh, the most divine torture ever. His mouth, sucking hard, biting at my nipples in the most exquisite ways, tugging, pulling, squeezing. I swear I could have come from that given enough time. I started humping at him, instinct controlling my movements.

"Do you want me to fuck you while I torture your breasts?"

"Uh-huh.."

"Do you want me to fuck you while you have a plug in your ass while I torture your breasts?"

"Uh huh..."

On top of me. "Oh, my, slut, you're so wet."

"No room," I panted as he nudged his way inside me, the plug in my ass making it harder, making me cry out.

"Oh, there's plenty of room, it just slides right in there..."

---

He pulled away a little, started moving with short quick strokes just barely into me. I groaned.

"Oh, God, what are you doing?" I begged, arching up, wanting to feel him driving deeply inside.

"You want more cock, girl?"

"Yes," I panted, struggling to lift my hips higher, to take more of him.

"Better beg for it then." He continued fucking just the head of his cock into me.

"Oh, fuck, please, please," I was babbling, no proper method of begging existing in my brain at that moment, "please, want more cock, please, please."

"You want more cock?"

"Yes, please, please."

"Where?"

"In my pussy, please, please!" I was writhing desperately, my hands clutching at his hips, trying to pull him into me.

"Mmm, okay, girl. Have more cock. In your pussy." He drove into me fully then, grinding, my clit throbbing between us as we moved. I gasped.

---

He grabbed my hair, two big handfuls on each side of my head, and pulled it up diagonally away from my head, effectively holding my head in place in the center. I felt stretched, pinned, helpless.

When he kissed me, his cock still driving, his hands still keeping up the pressure on my hair, I felt like I was flying away - or falling. Or both all at once. I screamed against his mouth, uncontrollably, kissing him back and screaming as I flew and fell and flew.

---

He was finished, and he rolled off me. His fingers began to pleasure me - inside, against my clit. Orgasm.

Again.

Again.

"Oh, wow, you are completely out of control, aren't you? You just keep coming.. I don't think you could stop if you tried."

Again.

Again.

Screaming, writhing under his touch, wanting it to end and wanting it to never, ever end, the waves of pleasure that kept crashing over me taking my breath away and leaving me wanting more, more, more.

He rolled atop me, and I gasped with surprise as his cock plunged inside me again. "Oh my God..."

His kisses sent me spiraling again, as he took his pleasure with me a second time. "You don't mind if I fuck you some more now, do you?" he asked roughly, as if I had a choice in the matter. I quivered internally at the entire situation.

He took his time this time too, extracting the maximum amount of pleasure for both of us.

We lay exhausted afterward, his body wrapped around me in my husband-cage, holding me tightly to him. "You belong to me," he said softly, a touch of wonder mingled with the matter-of-factness of his tone.

"I know," I murmured happily, settling as closely in to him as I could before we fell asleep.

Say thank you

12:45 AM. What the hell? How? A chat with a good friend, a project to complete, lots of wonderful emails to respond to, and a bath. That's how. Time just flies away when you're mixing work and pleasure so very thoroughly.

Climbing into bed with my husband, I was a little put-out. Just a little. He'd coaxed me out of bed in the late morning with an implication we would go back to bed in the afternoon, and it hadn't happened. "In the interest of open communication," I told him as I cleaned up the bathroom vanity and then climbed in next to him, "when you coax a girl out of bed with promises of going to bed later, not going to bed later is going to lead to a discontented girl."

I wouldn't have even been put out if it was earlier, and of course the lateness of the hour was not entirely his fault, although he did nothing to stop my mad typing in the late evening. He is meant to be the one making the command decisions.

He drew me close to him, spooning me with his arm draped around me, and I started playing a game on my Kindle Fire. No tech in the bedroom has been suffering due to my cold - so I just started playing. Fruit Ninja. I assumed he would go to sleep. He didn't. His hand started to slowly, slowly squeeze a nipple until I was gasping in pain, and then he moved to the other one.

"What are you doing?" I squeaked, as he squeezed it hard and moved back to the first one.

"Playing with you," he said blithely, alternating slow painful squeezes with hard, sharp, twisting ones as he moved between my nipples. I was still trying to play. "I bet it makes it hard to slice fruit," he observed as I gasped. Eventually I let the Kindle drop to the bed and I gave myself to the sensations he was causing. God, I love when he hurts my nipples. I raised my arm over my head to provide better targets, breathing through it as he slowly, slowly, slowly squeezed. Through pleasure and into pain that was just a more intense pleasure and I was panting. I could feel myself getting wet just from this.

His hand moved and he slapped my ass, hard. Oh, that's been a while. Pain, spanking, oh, fuck, yes. Who cares how late it is? I rolled over enough to offer my ass up for more, and he gave it. He was landing hard smacks that resonated deep into my being, making me groan because they were so delicious and shook my very bones. "Good girl," he said, and tugged on my shoulder to pull me back onto my side, so he could access my nipples again. He alternated between smacking my ass and slowly pinching my nipple then, until I was groaning near-constantly, my breath coming in short sharp pants.

He pulled me onto my back and then he was smacking me right on my nipples, back and forth between them. "Oh my God," I cried out, far too loudly, arching up into his smacks. Oh, so good. So fucking good.

He yanked my legs apart and then he was smacking me on my inner thighs.

It's been weeks since I've been hit anywhere but on the nipples, and I was super-sensitive to it all, the thighs most of all. I cried out. "Oh my God, that hurts, that hurts, it's sensitive," I panted as I struggled to keep my legs open.

"Is my girl sensitive?" he asked mockingly, knowing that I was, not caring, knowing that it turned me on like a faucet. "Does it hurt when I hit you here?" he asked, slapping my right inner thigh several times.

"God, yes," I squealed.

"And here?" he switched to the other leg, slapping even harder.

"Oh, fuck, yes, hurts," I begged.

"And here?" he asked, centering the blows, right on my pussy. He wasn't slapping nearly as hard, but was doing it faster.

"No no no no no," I panted with each fast strike, and with each "no," he increased the force behind the next blow.

"No no no no no," I said, and then he hit the pain point and it did hurt. "Yes yes yes," I was squealing, squirming, as he continued his rapid-fire assault on my genitals.

When he stopped, his fingers gently explored and found me soaking wet. "Ooooooooooh, what have we here?" he asked, his finger slipping inside and making me groan. "Does the fuck toy like to be played with? Does the fuck toy like to be used?"

"Yes sir," I whispered, arching into his touch.

"Good girl," he said. "Let's see what else you might like."

He climbed up over me, pulled off his shirt in front of me, and put his cock in front of my face, just out of reach of my mouth. I was panting. I am still stuffy and can't breathe well, so most of my breathing is through my mouth, but this was beyond just mouth-breathing. He was straddling my body, so I couldn't bend at the waist to lift up and take his cock in my mouth.

He rubbed it against my cheek, over my open lips. I licked it as it passed, groaning.

"You like that cock?" he asked roughly, already knowing the answer.

I moaned in response, lifting my head as best I could to lick it. He rubbed it against my other cheek, and humped against my face as if he was fucking it, just not quite letting his cock in my mouth. I groaned, and then he was pushing into my mouth, pressing his cock in as I moaned, pushing it in as far as he dared considering my sore throat. He pulled away for me to cough and breathe, and then he pushed in again, fucking my face slowly until I had to breathe, then giving me a moment for air again.

I can't quite put into words how hot it was for me that he was fucking my access to air, and he knew it.

He pressed in so deeply he was almost in my throat, pinning my head to the pillow, and I couldn't breathe. I could feel myself becoming wetter and wetter, and then he pulled away for me to cough, to haul in lungfuls of air.

"Poor fuck toy. You like sucking cock?"

I nodded desperately, as he rubbed his saliva-slick cock against my cheek while I panted for air.

"It's one of your favorite things, isn't it?" he said, shoving his cock back into my mouth.

I sucked, nodding slightly.

"I know. One day, you'll be able to have your face fucked without needing to cough, without needing to breathe. Won't that be nice?"

"Uh-huh," I grunted, as he pulled his cock away again for me to breathe.

He slid down my body then, and unceremoniously started to sink his hardness into my soaking wet pussy. I grunted as the head penetrated me - it felt enormous and I made a lot of noise.

"Good girl, take it, take me," he said, slowly, slowly pressing more into me. Slowly. So fucking slowly. I was writhing beneath him as he made his way into my body, making a lot of noise. He felt so incredible, stretching my internal walls apart, all the way down, and then he kept driving all the way through me, as if I wasn't there, pinning me thoroughly with his cock. I moved under him, squeezing my muscles around his hardness, relishing the feeling of being full of him. It was good. He pulled away slightly only to drive just as hard back down again, and then he was fucking me in earnest, pausing periodically to pin me down with both his cock and his gaze.

"Good fuck hole." My shuddery moan must have prodded him to keep talking, because he continued in the same vein. "This is what you're for, isn't it? For me to shove my cock into over, and over, and over." He accentuated each "over" with a hard thrust into my body that I gladly met, moaning with pleasure.

"Uh-huh," I agreed, out of my mind as we moved together.

"I give it to you and you just say 'thank you,' isn't that right, fuck toy?"

"Uh-huh," I agreed again, not processing what he was doing, the pleasure nerves that kept firing interfering with my normal brain function.

He drove into me, leaned his face down. One of my ears is dead right now, his lips were near my good ear. "Say thank you," he ordered roughly, his voice rasping along my ear canal all the way into my brain.

"Thank you," I whispered, breathless, and then, as if his command and the following words had unleashed some floodgate holding back my voice, I continued as we fucked. "Thank you, thank you, oh my God, thank you," I babbled, unable to hold it back.

"Good girl," he praised me through my babbling. "Are you thankful for my cock, fuck toy?" He drove it inside me and flexed for emphasis.

"Yes sir, ohmyGod, thank you." I was overwhelmed. I kept periodically babbling "Thank you, thank you," when he felt particularly amazing, his body moving against me. His hands grabbed my legs, pulled them up higher as he fucked down into me, and my eyes were rolling, open, closed, open. They caught his gaze once.

"That's right, fuck hole, look at me," he said. I did, as long as I could.

"Oh my God," I murmured, as his eyes burned heat into my soul and I couldn't stand it anymore - the pleasure was too great and my head rolled back, tossing as he kept fucking me. My hands roamed his back, pulling his hips into me hard when he allowed it. Sometimes he pulled away, lifting himself higher to slam into me with more force, but mostly he let me pull him close, our bodies merged and moving together.

His climax approached slowly, intensely. He was groaning for long moments as he came, as the pleasure washed over him. I glanced up at his face - if there ever was an image of bliss, it was his face at that moment.

Before he slid his fingers inside me and made me scream with pleasure over and over, as we lay tangled together, he whispered, breathlessly, "You forgive me for this afternoon?"

I laughed, loudly.

"No, that's not what this was about," he assured me, as he let his fingers take over the pleasure they had initiated so long ago.

---

Said to my friend, regarding holidays on my blog:

"Sometimes I just ignore these things and pretend they don't exist.
Unless we have special Thanksgiving-themed sex or something. Which would be hilarious
and I'm about to burst into laughter thinking about it."

Turns out, it's not so funny. It's actually insanely hot.