So it has been two weeks now. Yes I am counting the days. I was on the highest of highs for a while. Actually, that is not entirely true. I was on the highest of highs for exactly three days. Then with the suddenness of an unexpected slap in the face (which we will get to later) I came crashing and careering off the lighted clouds of endorphins and into the black abyss of wanton desire. I suppose that wanton desire is not necessarily a bad thing. In fact I quite enjoy it but this is not one of those sweet encounters where you sit waiting to see your new beau or beauette. This was dark and dirty. I desperately needed to go back, to have more. I needed to be fucked again and I needed to be fucked by him. The part I hated was that he knew it. We spoke on the phone, briefly now, because there was no joy in anticipation anymore. The bliss of talking softly, imagining touches, the thrill of my cunt getting wet at the sound of his voice was there but no longer enough. I got that he had taken a part of me. He owned it and he was not giving it back. Not now and according to him, not ever.
I am back to cooking. Cooking a lot. Avoiding going to see him again. Waiting until I can give it away, give him away, or until I can't bear it anymore. Some moments I can't bear it anymore and I am in the car about to drive there but I haven't - yet.
He sits on the phone. He tells me what I want, what I need and that I am his. Not in the romantic way where I am his forever. In the way that he owns a part of me that is small but so significant, the part of me that has submitted to another person. Whether I admit it or not we both know it to be true.
It is a very difficult thing to describe, that piece. The feeling of being owned. It is vastly different to belonging, to desire, to the beauty of a fresh relationship. There is a small amount of....what is the word? Panic I suppose. For someone like me to give over to someone else, half willingly, half I am not sure...hell, I am not even sure what "it" is. I guess the half that is not willing desperately wants for it to be taken too...whatever it is.
So in my quiet moments I fill my head with fragmented rememberings of debauchery. I can feel the touch, the sting, the release. The glorious fucking release.
He took out a bamboo cane. I stood with the burning of an orgasm unreleased in my belly as he caned my arse. I moaned softly. It got harder and harder. My breath stuck in my throat. I could feel the fire burning in my belly, building again. Evidently so could he.
"You are a very naughty girl. You mustn't cum. You mustn't cum until I say. Is that clear?"
"Yes." My voice was quiet, angry. "Yes, Sir."
"Good Girl."
He knew that I was there fighting him. Surrendered in body only. The fire burned brighter as the pain ripped through my arse. My legs started to shake.
He whispered to me, "You are a slut."
He took my hands down. I knelt on the floor as he collared my neck.
"Suck my cock." It was thick and perfect. I took him in my mouth and devoured him, while he stood there above me, me on my knees, deeper and deeper. It brought me again to where I was ready to cum. I looked up at him, begging him with my eyes to let me go, to stop or to finish me. To let me cum.
"Not now." He bent me over the bed and that moment of entry, that glorious moment. He thrust inside me. It is like a sweet second where the world stops turning. He grabbed my hair and pulled my head back. It was hard and fast. My head was spinning. "You cum on my cock, now." He thrust a finger in my arse and pulled my hair back harder. My back arched, my cunt tightened and I came. Finally. I could feel my cunt constricting in waves over him, pulling him in. Once, twice and on the third wave he pulled out.
"No!" I shouted. "No, no, not now. Please...Can't you just..."
He stood back and said "You talk too much. You are too loud. I told you not to say no to me." He shoved something in my mouth and tied it there.
I was sitting in a messy puddle on the floor at the foot of his bed, my eyes stung with tears of frustration. At his command I got up on my knees. He licked my breasts, sucked my nipples and then started placing clamps on them. The pain was exquisite. I was unable to speak with the gag in. I know my eyes were searching, begging him. I shook my head and he smiled. "It is only for a minute. It will get better. You will take it." There were three on each nipple. I was shaking my head, making muffled sounds. "Good Girl." He patted my head.
He was softer now, quieter. He pulled out a length of rope. He tied it in expert loops as he must have done a hundred times before. He tied my breasts one at a time so they were tight balls of flesh, red and swollen. He bent me over and caned my bare arse. I was to stay on all fours with my head down. He fucked me again, over and over. Whenever I got close to cumming he would stop and wait for the moment to subside, then he would start again. The thrusting made my breasts jolt and sting but I wanted to cum so much I could not help but thrust back into him. My breasts really burned now. I wanted them to be released. It hurt so much I could feel a surge of panic start to rise in my chest. He took out a giant dildo. He moved around behind me. It was too wide. I shook my head, begging for him to stop, wanting him to continue. "You can take it. I know you can." As he pushed it into me I could feel my cunt stretching. The glorious feeling it brought to my clit. He fucked me with it slowly and I came so hard I could see it spurting out of me. "Good Girl. Good Girl." The waves would not stop coming as he pounded it into me. There was nothing in the world except this. The sensations. The occasional stinging on my arse as he slapped me, the thrusting, stretching of my cunt. The filling up of my insides. The throbbing of my breasts. I sat back on my knees, he went to remove it from me and I shook my head. He smiled.
He pulled back and stood in front of me. I looked straight at him. There was defiance in my eyes I knew it. This is what I was here for. This moment. He slapped my face. Hard. It stung. It made me angry. I challenged him again with my eyes, again he slapped me. I shook my head and frowned. He slapped me again and again until I looked down. In that moment, I was owned. My chest was nearly bursting. It felt so liberating, so unimaginably amazing.
"You look so beautiful there, Girl. Look at how beautiful your breasts are. Perfect. You are such a good slut and right now you fucking own it. I told you I would make you, create you. You are a slut, my slut and right now, you love it."
He was right. I was there, tied, gagged, panting, wet, stretched, hurting, submissive and all of the defiance gone from my eyes. I could feel it. All that was there was lust and fucking. I looked back up at him with playful eyes, shaking my sweaty hair from in front of my face and I grinned and nodded. I did fucking own it. I owned it, I loved it and there was no going back.
