by Anon

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© Copyright 2017 - Anon - Used by permission

Storycodes: M/f; bond; slave; susp; reluct; X


The whip lands again on my back, sending another sharp spear of pain into my gut, and with it another wave of agonizing, unful- filled desire crashed through me.

"Please Master...Yes, I want it, I want it now!" I moan through clenched teeth.

He steps around in front of me, smiling in mock surprise.

"My, what a lusty wench!  And you've finally admitted it!  Well *now* you'll just have to wait. I'm having fun doing just what I'm doing."  And with that he disappears again behind me, and I felt the whip descend once more, between my shoulder blades, with a thwack and a burn. With the rhythm of the whip, I slip into a delirium of pain and lust.  And lost in the rhythm, I find my mind wandering through the events that had led me to this delicious and frustrating predicament.

On a whim, I had offered myself up for sale at the "auction". What the hell, I thought to myself, what have I got to loose?  I can explicitly eliminate sex from what I offer, and what else could there be that someone could want that I couldn't do?

[That thought makes me chuckle, even as yet another lash of the whip hits me across the back of my thighs, bringing tears to my eyes. How ignorant I had been what seemed like so long ago...]

Besides, if things got out of hand, I could always just leave, the only drawback then being that I had wasted my time and wouldn't get paid.  Besides, I needed the money. The auctions sold time, not services.

Most "slaves" (as the people being sold were jokingly called) ended up helping people move, making dinner, giving backrubs, or serving as "ornamental slaves", where the purchaser would, say, bring them to a party on a leash, and show them off all night.  All in fun, of course.

Of course, "slaves" could limit what they would do to certain things, or just say they wouldn't do certain things, as long as they made the limits clear before the bidding began.  And never, ever was it allowed for sex to be offered as a service, to avoid possible charges of pimping for the auctioneers.  Of course, some people hinted that sex would be a part of the package, and those people (females at least) got very high bids.

Knowing this, I very explicitly said "No sex" --- loudly, and a number of times.  A few people who seemed to be interested at the start were turned off by my adamant refusals.  But I didn't care; I wouldn't want to have sex with them for all the money in the world anyway.  Besides, I knew that lot's of people wanted me enough to settle for just being around me for that time.

As predicted, I had a number of people bidding on me, and the bids went quite high.  As was fairly typical, I was offering only four hours of my time, and when the bids hit three digits I was smug! But most of the people bidding were students, and just couldn't compete with Daniel's bids --- after all, he had an *income*!

I had met Daniel a couple of times at parties.  He was basically an unassuming type, blending into the background of whatever group he was in.  He was the type of guy who always lusts after me, but never says anything; the type I never give a second thought.  I was quite surprised at how determined he seemed to buy me...and also a bit relieved, because he seemed so meek.  He would probably be in such awe of just being with me, he couldn't get up the guts to do more than ask me to cook dinner for him. [With a wry smile, I realize that he hadn't even done that!  The smile brings a questioning look from my Master (he is now working on my breasts and belly), followed by a quick volley of five or six strokes across my thighs.  ooooh...]

When Daniel picked me up at an arranged place and time, I was dressed to please.  I figured that, even though I had specified no sex, he had bought me because he lusted after me, and I would give the guy his money's worth.  Call me a tease, and I won't blush; I love the obviously desirous stares I get from men, as long as they don't touch!

I was wearing a short-short mini- skirt, and tight, low-cut tank top, and bright yellow panties that I knew could be seen whenever I leaned over.  The tank top showed my nipples off well, with the fabric stretching over the hard points.  My breasts are medium sized, rounded, and firm enough that they require no bra, and they have always attracted longing looks from the men around me.

He stared at my breasts as he opened the car door for me, and I gave him my best "come hither" smile.  I swear he let out a gasp!  In the car, I asked him where he was taking me, and he said "To my place."  

After riding in silence for a bit, I asked, "So what do you have in mind for me?"

He looked at me with an unreadable expression and said quietly. "I want to have sex with you."

Oh God! I groaned to myself.  This guy is going to be a schmuck about it, and force me to walk out on him.  I started to tell him that hell would freeze over before I would sleep with him, and he said, with more force, "Don't bother saying you won't.  I *will* fuck you, and you'll love it."
He said it simply, and with force, and I stared at him, open-mouthed.

Shit, I thought, he's going to rape me.  My God, how am I going to get out of this?

As if in answer to my thoughts, he said, "Don't worry, I'm not going to rape you.  I won't do anything to you you don't want me to do."  His words were somehow both reassuring, and ominous. They scared me but also started my curiosity churning in full force. Just how did this presumptuous little dweeb propose to make me *want* to have sex with him?

And he sounded so confident!

As we continued driving in silence, I continued watching him.  In the past, his manner had been so unassuming, I had never bothered to really look at him.  He was tall and very thin, with something of a studious look about him.  But looking carefully I could see that he was well-muscled, in a lean, tight sort of way, under- neath his conservative dress shirt.

[My thoughts return to the present.  Confusion.  The whipping has stopped.  Ah, sweet relief.  But only from the pain, not from this overwhelming desire.  Now? I plead to myself?  Oh God, oh Master, take me down, take me!  Please, now...?  But no, he is stopping just to change tools. Now it's the paddle, slapping my already ret-hot ass.  Uhhhhh, I moan, as I remember when I first saw the tools that are now being used so effectively on me....]

The first thing Daniel did when we got to his house was to instruct me to kneel in the middle of the living room. This is silly, I thought.  This guy has some sort of dominant fantasy or something weird.  He wants to play some stupid game.
Well fine, I can play along --- after all, I'm being well-paid.

"For the remainder of your time with me, you are to call me 'Master'."

I almost laughed out loud!  This sounded like something out of one of those disgusting magazines of my father's, that I had sneaked looks at when I was young.  But I suppressed my smile and said, putting on what I imagined to be a good submissive look, and said, "Yes, Master."

"Stay here.  Don't move until I tell you you can," he said, and then looked at me expectantly.

I was confused for a moment, then realized what he wanted.  "Yes, Master."

Boy this guy is weird, I thought.  But I was *really* curious now, anxious to see what bizarre activity was to follow.  He turned and disappeared down a hall-way.

While he was gone, I sat there on my knees, wondering why I was putting up with this shit.  Well, I was getting a *lot* of money for these few hours.  Besides, I was just burning with curiosity. And something else?  I wasn't sure.  But I knew I was eager for him to return, to find out what the next move in the game was. I took advantage of his absence to study my surroundings.  His living room looked pretty much like I would have expected from my earlier impression of him.  Standard motel looking furniture, well-worn.  Many bookcases almost overflowing with books, thought I couldn't read most of the titles from my position on the floor. In one corner was a desk with a computer (of course).

One thing that really stood out about the room was that it was amazingly neat and organized.  Almost compulsively, I thought.  Although he had tons of books, papers and other stuff, everything was arranged and stacked neatly, and it seemed clear that everything belonged in exactly the place it occupied.

He didn't take long, so I didn't get a chance to look around more carefully.  He came back with a collar and leash in his hand.  I gasped!  He isn't going to expect me to wear *that*, is he?

Then I calmed down, and remembered that during the auction I had even been prepared to be an "ornamental slave", led around on a leash *in* *public*, and somehow this private horror seemed a blessing. What on earth had made me think I was cut out to be auctioned as a "slave" anyway?

As expected, he placed the collar around my neck.  It wasn't a normal dog collar --- it had metal rings on the sides and front, not just on the back.  He clipped the chain leash onto the ring on the front.  "Follow me" he instructed, and I started to rise. "Not like that.  Stay on your knees."

So I followed him down the hallway he had just come out of, scurrying along the floor, on my knees.  Jesus, this guy must be having a field day, I chuckled silently.  How often does he get a gorgeous girl to follow him around on a leash?  Well that's what he shelled out good money for, I guess.  And I was just doing it for the money, right?  Wasn't I?

At the end of the hallway was a door that I figured led to his bedroom.  I was about to protest, but then he opened the door and I saw that this was most certainly not a bedroom. There was no bed in sight, but there were certainly lots of other things.  The room was dimly lit, and the walls appeared to be black!  Oh wow, this is too weird!

The room had chains hanging from the ceiling, various pieces of furniture, some of which the purpose was clear, the others baffled me.  And hanging all around the walls were all sorts of...well, whips, it looked like.  And paddles.  More chains and ropes.  Strings.  And lots of stuff I couldn't even name.  I couldn't do anything more than gasp and stare.

I didn't get long to look around, though, before he pulled me towards a goal-posts looking thing, with a bar between two poles across the top.  He quickly hooked the leash to a hook on the top bar.  It was just long enough so that if I stayed up on my knees with my back straight, the collar stayed loose around my neck.

He stepped back, and looked at me kneeling there, and I felt myself blush.  Me, blush?  Why, I'm always in control, I never get embarrassed.  But something about being there with the leash on made me feel so exposed.  Not exposed enough for him, it seemed though.

"Very pretty," he said, looking thoughtful, "but I think it would be better without the clothes.  Don't you think so too?"  He looked at  meaningfully.

"No way, guy," I protested vehemently.  "I said before, no sex. This is already getting real close to getting out of hand as it is!"

He ignored my protests, and moved off to a corner of the room. He came back, dragging a full-length mirror, the kind that pivots vertically in a frame on wheels. He put it in front of me, so that I could see myself kneeling, and asked again.
"Don't you think this would make a pretty picture without clothes?"

I kept my mouth shut, and refused to look at the mirror.

"Okay, if that's how you want it," he nodded.  "In that case, there isn't much I can do here.  Just this..."

He went to the wall and brought back four padded leather straps, with buckles.  Oh no! Sure enough, he fastened them around my wrists and ankles deftly, and then attached each wrist to the same side ankle with a short length of chain.  He moved the mirror back a few feet, so that I had a better view of the room.  "I'm going to the living room to read a book.  If you change your mind about taking your clothes off, call me.  Otherwise, I'll be back at the end of your time with me, which by the way is about three more hours, to let you go.  Have fun!" he said, chuckling, and walked out.

The first thing I did after he walked out was lean on the chain, testing it's strength.  It was a light chain, and I could tell it would break under my weight.  Good, I thought, I won't hang myself if I fall over.  I didn't even occur to me at the time that this was probably quite intentional on Daniel's part.  I also tested the cuffs on my wrists and ankles --- there was no way I could break the chains, but I figured I could, if I had wanted to, get out of the cuffs. Well, it seemed I was going to be in this room for a long time, alone, since I was most certainly not going to allow this weird pervert to take my clothes off.  So I looked around.

Doing so gave me shivers --- where did this guy get this stuff?

The implements on the wall looked like something out of a medieval torture chamber.  Like the living room, everything appeared carefully arranged.  It was actually quite impressive, if I forced myself not to think about *what* I was looking at.
Everything was within easy reach, and arranged by categories. Somehow it all seemed to fit. How careful he was about keeping every- thing neat and scrupulous he was about not doing anything I didn't want him he had made sure I was safe while he was out of the room.  It all showed a careful attention to detail that even I was forced to admire.

[I am reminded again about his attention to details, as the paddling pauses again.  Every single inch of my skin burns from some sort of stimulation.  He had left no part of me untouched, no piece of my body escaped this desire.  I had already told him I wanted it.  Now all I can do is wait till is pleases him to take me.  Oh God, I hope it's soon!  I am still amazed that it's me thinking these things. As the paddling resumes, I think back to my transition from disgust to desire...] 

I have no idea how long I spent on my knees in that room.  I know I was very bored, and my knees were starting to ache.  I thought to myself that I could very easily get out of this mess, just get up and walk out.  But I didn't!  Why am I doing this?
I spent a lot of time trying to answer that question.  Initially my answer was "money", but for some reason that didn't carry the conviction it had from the start.  And finally it occurred to me --- I was getting turned on, hanging here from my neck, hogtied.  I was getting turned on being ordered around by this strange person, and even by the change that had come over him when we had come into his territory.  I was even turned on looking at these bizarre devices hanging from the walls, even though they terrified me.  I found my eyes continually being drawn to the mirror.

The picture it presented was disturbing to me.  Surely that girl in the mirror wasn't me!  She seemed so young, so vulnerable. Her brow was slightly shiny with perspiration, and her chest heaved a bit more quickly than it should have for someone resting.  Her lips were slightly parted, and wet, from continually being licked.  A nervous gesture? I never even noticed I did this!  I looked at her, and she looked at me, and I realized she was flushed with arousal.  And looking at her was arousing to me...  How could this weird shit arouse me?

Only perverts like this stuff, I told myself.  Daniel was quite clearly a pervert and yet I found myself thinking about him, sitting out there in the livingroom, completely ignoring me, and wishing he would come back in.  Men never ignore me!  And here I was --- horny! Even so, I knew I wouldn't have sex with this guy.  Just because some perversion turns me on doesn't mean I have to do it.  And not with *him*, of all people.  But it didn't seem like it would do too much harm to allow him to take my clothes off.  I mean, it wouldn't be like it was the first time I had been seen naked by a man.  And it would mean the end of this damnable boredom and frustration [ha! right!] and maybe I could get Daniel to explain to me how some of those fascinating, repulsive, unfathomable devices were used.  And to be naked, bound like this...oh, no, I couldn't think about it. 

So I called for him, "You can take my clothes off if you want."

I waited, but I heard no footsteps approaching.  Oh no,  he's going to keep me like this for the rest of my four hours!

How could any guy turn down an offer like that?  Most men would come running. What was it about this Daniel that he was so indifferent? Then I remembered.  "Master!  Take my clothes off. Please!"  I added that last, hoping it would sound appropriately submissive, so that he would come in here.  It must have worked, for almost immediately the door opened, and Daniel walked in.  He looked so much taller than when he had left, and much stronger. My mind was playing tricks on me.  Oh well, I never had been able to deal with isolation well. Without a word, he removed the chain between my wrists and ankles, and jerked on the leash to indicate I should stand up.

He swiftly, and somewhat roughly, pulled down my skirt and panties, together.  As I lifted my feet to let him lift away the clothing, he also slid off my sandals.  Then he unclipped the leash, lifted my tank-top over the top of my head, tossed it with the other clothes, and replaced the leash. He pushed me back down into the kneeling position I had just left, and stood back and looked at me.  He wasn't even smiling. He was inspecting me like I was some piece of art that needed critiquing.  Oh, this wasn't how it should have been. This careful inspection made me feel much more naked than just nudity alone would have!  I felt the flush return to my face, and I couldn't even look at him.  I lowered my eyes to the floor, and wondered whatever had inspired me to let him take my clothes off.

He acted as if it was *him*, doing *me* a favor.  He walked slowly around me, looking at me, and I never moved an inch.  I didn't even look at him, I was so embarrassed.  When at last he had completed his inspection, he said "Hmmm.  Very nice. Quite nice indeed." I felt a flood of relief, and my shame vanished.  Then I felt shock at myself --- why should this strange man's approval mean anything at all to me?  I *knew* I looked good, and even if Daniel didn't think so, hundreds of other guys did!  But kneeling there, stark naked, under Daniel's critical eye, I suddenly felt more acutely aware of my own body, and it's attractiveness, than all the stares, whistles and outright compliments I had received before had ever made me feel.

I looked up at him and smiled, and he returned my smile. Once again, I was surprised at the effect this had on me. Never before had I been concerned with what anyone thought of me.  But his approval, and his apparent pleasure with me, sent surprising waves of pleasure through me. I felt an inexplicable urge to wrap my arms around Daniel's knees, in front of me, and stopped myself, shocked!  What was happening to me?  I was having these unfathomable urges which went totally against my nature.  And yet something about where I was felt so...right. It was as if I belonged here, had always belonged on my knees in front of this strange man, this Daniel, this...Master.  My whole mind rebelled against the word.  And yet, each time I said it, it sounded a little less strange.

"Master," I said quietly, more to try it out than to get Daniel's attention.  The word caught a little in my throat, but not nearly as much as it had the first time.

"Speak," Daniel replied to my stumbling call.

"I...I feel...strange.  I'm not sure what is happening. What's happening, what are you doing to me?"

I looked at him, suddenly feeling that he had the solution to the unfamiliar turmoil within me. Daniel knelt down in front on me, and grasped my chin firmly in his hand.  Holding my face directly in front of me, he looked at me, looked into my eyes, for a long time.  He wasn't smiling, nor was he frowning; I couldn't read his expression at all.  But I stared back into his eyes, and it felt like I was falling into them.  I had the oddest urge to drop my eyes, but I didn't. Instead, I found that every moment that our eyes were locked, my internal conflict lessened.  Yes, yes...this was right...Daniel was right...everything was okay, and as it should be.

Then he stood up, and I felt like I was being released from some great weight.  I started to slump down to the floor, exhausted, but the collar and leash wouldn't let me, so I quickly sat up with my back straight, to ease the pressure.  I didn't look back up at him, but I felt that he was looking down at me, watching me. He reached down, and stroked my hair gently.  I pulled back from his touch, instinctively, a retort already starting to form in my mind.  But it never reached my lips.  Even as I shied away from his touch, I wanted it.  I leaned into his hand, my forehead resting on his palm, his thumb rubbing my hair.  My heart and mind were racing.  I wasn't sure what I wanted, how far I wanted to let these new sensations take me.  I knew the best thing I could do was to leave, to just stand up, take the collar off, get dressed and walk out --- to forget that this evening had ever happened.  But I didn't *want* to do that.  I wanted to stay and see what would happen and...and I wanted him to touch me.

That particular touch didn't last long, though.  Soon Daniel withdrew his hand, and his manner returned to it's previous firmness, mixed with humor.  He unhooked the leash from the bar above my head, and indicated that I was to stand.  I did, and the relief in stretching my legs again washed through me, bringing back that weak feeling, and I thought I was going to collapse. But then Daniel was there, in front of me, with his strong arms around me, supporting me. Without even thinking about it, I leaned against him, giving myself to his arms.  Then I realized what I was doing, and pulled back, staring at him. He just looked at me, a slight smile on his lips, and I got the feeling he was waiting, that he knew already everything that was going to happen, all my thoughts and confusion.  I wanted to throw myself back into his arms, but that wasn't right; I couldn't draw comfort from the very person who was bringing this turmoil to me.

But I had no more time to ponder my confusion.  He pulled me farther into the room, over to a piece of furniture that look basically like a padded saw-horse.  He turned me to face him and, still smiling that small, knowing, and somewhat ironic smile, he said "You took an awfully long time making up your mind about taking your clothes."

He looked at me expectantly, and I dropped my eyes again.  I couldn't tell if he was really upset at me, or if he was just teasing me.  And why should I care?  But I did!  I didn't want him to be angry with me, for then he might not touch me again.  I longed for his touch! "You are going to have to learn to think more quickly."

His words confused me.  "Going to have to learn"...?  But his tone was clear, the same tone my father used to use to say "You've done something wrong.  I'm not upset but for your own good you must be taught a lesson."

I found myself relieved that he was not upset, but at the same time ashamed of myself for doing "something wrong".  A conditioned reflex from my childhood, to my father's tone?

Perhaps, but nevertheless I felt I deserved a lesson.  But the thought that Daniel was going to give it to me scared me.

He turned me so that I was facing the sawhorse, and place a hand on my back, gently pushing me so that I was bent over the horse, my belly resting on the padded bar, my breasts and arms hanging down in front of it.  My heart was pounding, and I could feel my sweat making the smooth surface of the horse sticky.  It was clear where this was leading; I should have gone bolting for the door. But it seemed appropriate and necessary. I didn't even seriously consider leaving.  I just stood there, naked, bent and vulnerable, waiting for the inevitable.

And it came --- a light, stinging slap to my ass.  It didn't hurt, but it startled me, even though I had been expecting it. The second followed quickly, and then the third. The slaps were still light, but I could feel my cheeks reddening slightly, and I felt quite warm all over.  As the slaps continued, I marveled at what was happening.  I was letting Daniel spank me!

No, I corrected myself, I was letting my Master spank me.  And finally the word felt totally right.

"Master," I whispered, too low for him to hear.  But I didn't feel that I was "letting" him spank me. Rather, I had an odd feeling that he was in his right, in this spanking, and that I was receiving a deserved punishment.  I wanted to be touched, and even this touch was better than none. In fact, I discovered that the growing heat on my backside was adding to my arousal, making me squirm on the horse.  I was startled out of this self-contemplation by another smack on my ass, much harder than the previous ones.  I winced and grasped the legs of the sawhorse.

I felt sure that all I had to do was say "Stop", and Daniel (Master!) would stop immediately.  But I found that I didn't want him to stop.  The spanking hurt, but somehow, at the same time it felt good.  It felt right!  I waited with a combination of desire and apprehension for the next stinging slap. It came, and I gasped and actually raised my ass toward his hand in preparation for the next one.  And the next one came, and the next and the next.  And as my bottom got hotter and sorer, I got hornier and hornier, marveling at the incongruous complement of pain and pleasure.

[I laugh at myself under my breath.  I had thought those little smacks were so hard and so wonderful, I had been so easy to turn on!  I wonder if Daniel expected it to be so easy.  He certainly seems to be working hard now, I think, and I feel another crack of the paddle.  But it's stopping!  Is this another pause, a tease, or is he actually going to take me now? Oh yes, yes, he's unhooking my wrists.  A moan of anticipation escapes my lips, and in the moment before he lowers me to the floor, my mind flashes back to getting into the position I was now so relieved to be leaving...]

I don't know how long the spanking lasted.  It can't have been very long but in my mind it was an excruciatingly ecstatic forever.  But eventually the pain started reaching out, past the pleasure.  But just as I felt the excitement start to slip, he stopped.  How did he know?  I had had just enough to get me trembling with excitement, and no more. I rested on the horse, breathing heavily, feeling the sweat between me and the slick surface I was lying on.  I was tired, but somehow I felt refreshed.  I felt no more shame at my failure (I had long ago stopped thinking about exactly what it was I was being punished for, and only that I deserved this, that he was purging my guilt.)  I hoped my Master was pleased with me, and I was ready to do anything he wanted.  Almost.

Even as I thought that, the incredible heat of the moment faded, and I again started asking myself what in the world I was doing here.  Although I still felt arousal and desire coursing through me, I swore to myself I would not succumb to Daniel's desire.  Getting a spanking may make me as horny as I've ever been, but I certainly didn't have to admit that to *him*!  I stubbornly swore to myself that, no matter how turned on he got me, I wasn't going to let him fuck me.

He allowed me few moments to recover, and then he tugged on my collar to indicated I should stand up, and walked me back over to the pole set-up I had been attached to when we first came into the room.  He moved me so that I was standing under the top pole, and again lifted my chin so that I was looking at his face.  His manner had changed.  He still seem strangely confident of himself. But now, mixed with the ever-present humour in his smile, was a bit of smugness.  His smile suggested that he knew that he had already won, and all he had to do was wait.  Rebelliously, I reaffirmed my vow to prove him wrong.

He stroked my cheek lightly, and then took my wrists in his hands.  He clipped the straps around my wrists together, and then attached both wrist restraints to a hook on the bar above us. The bar was high enough that I had to stretch my arms to be able to keep my feet on the floor.  He stepped back, watching me, with the same satisfied, confident smile on his lips.

The mirror was still where it had been when I was kneeling on the same spot, and I could see myself clearly.  The girl in the mirror was quite a different sight than she had been previously. Her short hair was damp with sweat, and the slight flush on her face had become a full body flush.  She was trembling, and her breathing was so heavy it was almost panting.  The biggest change though, was an almost indefinable change in her expression.  It seemed that some of the stubbornness, the willfulness, the arrogance, had gone out of it, to be replaced with...something I could not name.

The sight of my trembling nakedness made me realize how vulnerable I was.  It also renewed my excitement almost unbearably.  I heard my Master say from somewhere to my left "Pretty girl.  You are so excited, and we haven't even begun yet." His words sent a noticeable shiver through me, and I strained forward against my bonds, pleading silently to be touched again.  I wondered how long I could keep my stubborn vow.  I even wondered why I had made it...

I was still staring at my reflection when I felt a sharp sting on my back.  In the mirror, I looked behind me, and Master was there, with a nasty-looking whip in his hands.  It appeared to be a thick handle with a number of leather straps hanging off it.  I had seen it on the wall earlier.
Before I could recall what I had thought of it at the time, I saw him swing again.  I watched in the mirror, an the whip disappeared behind me a split second before I felt it crack down again on my back.  The pain was much sharper than that of the spanking, much different. This pain left heat, too, but traveled all through my body, each stroke bringing me higher and higher...

Finally, my Master lays me down on the floor.  Somehow, in my own delirium, I missed him taking his clothes off.  Now I feel his body heavy on top of me, our bodies both slick.  I look up at him, trying to tell him with my eyes that I surrender to him totally.  Then I close my eyes and gasp as he enters me in one smooth, quick thrust.  My gasps turn to groans, and my groans to screams, as the pleasure mounts into an orgasm that rocks my soul.  And he keeps thrusting and I lose myself in ecstasy...

Finally, it is all over.  My exhaustion is mixed with a sense of satisfaction that goes deeper than just orgasm.  He has taken me, and I am his.  I feel no more confusion, no more turmoil, just a profound feeling of fulfillment, of rightness.

"Master," I whisper into his neck as he strokes my hair.  He nods, and I know he understands...


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©–2001 | updated - 06.05.17