Dream Girl
He watched her slowly undress.
This part always seemed to build the anticipation, her hair hanging down as she slowly rolled down her stockings, the curve of her trapped arms as she slithered out of her dress.
The glass was cool to his touch, with beads of moisture dampening it. He sipped softly as she slid delicate fingers into the waist of her panties, and lowered them to the floor.
She seemed to glide to the dresser, and paused a moment, taking the collar in her hands, examining it. Then he heard the rasp of it’s leather, the click clack of the buckle, and she turned to face him, clothed only in the symbol of her submission.
He let that moment hang, the moment of her nakedness, of her completion of his last command. Her fingers found each other in front of her bush, and entwined.
He pointed to the floor in front of the chair, and she quickly knelt there, as if freed from her nervousness by the task.
She was lovely, and so willing to serve. Her knees slid open a bit, as he’d told her, shoulders back to display her beautiful breasts.
”Greet me,” he said softly.
She leaned forward, finding the fly of his trousers, and slowly freed his cock from within. Her touch, so soft, was exquisite. She held his meat with tow hands, and softly laid a kiss on the tip of it.
He smiled and petted her hair.
“Who are you?” he asked, voice calm, his fingers trailing down her cheek.
“I am your slave, your slut, your love.” She answered, as she had answered so many times before.
“What are you for?” he asked, a finger finding her right nipple, and slowly tugging at it. The flesh there stiffened at his attention.
“I’m for fucking, and to cherish.” She answered, just as he’d taught her.
“Why?” He asked.
There was a moment of silence. He had never asked her that before.
“B’because I’m yours?” She answered.
Again he let the moment carry, knowing that she was waiting for the praise or the punishment.
“Yes Little One, good girl.” He said finally, sliding forward in the chair to look down at her. “Now show me what’s mine.”
At this she rolled to her back, feet flat on the floor, knees bent, and spread her soft, pale thighs.
He looked down at her pussy, saw the hair that she had let grow when she gave up dancing, and saw that her lips were puffy, swollen.
“Show me,” He said again, and watched as her fingers spread her lips, baring for him her fuckhole.
“Fuck,” he told her, and her middle finger slowly disappearing inside her, thrusting slowly in and out.
Her eyes closed, instinctively at this moment. He dropped to the floor between her thighs, his erection brushing her inner thigh.
“Look at me!” He hissed, and her eyes opened, watery and needing.
He held her gaze, seeing the desire there, the vulnerability. Between them her hand rocked back and forth, her wrist occasionally brushing against the now damp tip of his cock.
She bit her lower lip, and began to tear up.
“Whose pussy?” he asked.
‘Your Pussy Master!” She called.
“Who are you?”
“Your slave, your slut…Master Pleeeze!” her voice so desperate, so mournful.
“Cum.” He answered, and she began to shake, her thighs pressing hard against his hips, her pelvis bucking.
“Yours oh yours only yours.” She whispered as he began to lay kisses on her neck and chest.
He thrust into her suddenly, brutally, her wet, warm hole giving way to the incursion. His hands found hers, pinning them down, and he rolled his hips, pumping his cock deeper into her pussy.
“What are you for?” He asked.
“I’m for fucking Master!” Her body resisted him, as he drove in deeper, forcing the way.
“Say it!” His breath came hard as he pushed into her again and again.
“I’m for fucking for fucking, for you to fuck, only you, oh only you!”
“Why?” He hissed, slamming into her harder, filling her, stretching her.
“Because you own me!” She called.
“Why slut?” he asked, feeling the well building within him.
“Because I’m yours!” She yelled, her own desire growing again as he used her.
“Tell me why Slave?”
“Because I love you Master!” She cried out as he began to explode in her snatch, pumping milky white seed deep inside her.
And he knew that it was true. And he knew, collapsing on top of her, pinning her to the carpet, that he could not be happier.
This part always seemed to build the anticipation, her hair hanging down as she slowly rolled down her stockings, the curve of her trapped arms as she slithered out of her dress.
The glass was cool to his touch, with beads of moisture dampening it. He sipped softly as she slid delicate fingers into the waist of her panties, and lowered them to the floor.
She seemed to glide to the dresser, and paused a moment, taking the collar in her hands, examining it. Then he heard the rasp of it’s leather, the click clack of the buckle, and she turned to face him, clothed only in the symbol of her submission.
He let that moment hang, the moment of her nakedness, of her completion of his last command. Her fingers found each other in front of her bush, and entwined.
He pointed to the floor in front of the chair, and she quickly knelt there, as if freed from her nervousness by the task.
She was lovely, and so willing to serve. Her knees slid open a bit, as he’d told her, shoulders back to display her beautiful breasts.
”Greet me,” he said softly.
She leaned forward, finding the fly of his trousers, and slowly freed his cock from within. Her touch, so soft, was exquisite. She held his meat with tow hands, and softly laid a kiss on the tip of it.
He smiled and petted her hair.
“Who are you?” he asked, voice calm, his fingers trailing down her cheek.
“I am your slave, your slut, your love.” She answered, as she had answered so many times before.
“What are you for?” he asked, a finger finding her right nipple, and slowly tugging at it. The flesh there stiffened at his attention.
“I’m for fucking, and to cherish.” She answered, just as he’d taught her.
“Why?” He asked.
There was a moment of silence. He had never asked her that before.
“B’because I’m yours?” She answered.
Again he let the moment carry, knowing that she was waiting for the praise or the punishment.
“Yes Little One, good girl.” He said finally, sliding forward in the chair to look down at her. “Now show me what’s mine.”
At this she rolled to her back, feet flat on the floor, knees bent, and spread her soft, pale thighs.
He looked down at her pussy, saw the hair that she had let grow when she gave up dancing, and saw that her lips were puffy, swollen.
“Show me,” He said again, and watched as her fingers spread her lips, baring for him her fuckhole.
“Fuck,” he told her, and her middle finger slowly disappearing inside her, thrusting slowly in and out.
Her eyes closed, instinctively at this moment. He dropped to the floor between her thighs, his erection brushing her inner thigh.
“Look at me!” He hissed, and her eyes opened, watery and needing.
He held her gaze, seeing the desire there, the vulnerability. Between them her hand rocked back and forth, her wrist occasionally brushing against the now damp tip of his cock.
She bit her lower lip, and began to tear up.
“Whose pussy?” he asked.
‘Your Pussy Master!” She called.
“Who are you?”
“Your slave, your slut…Master Pleeeze!” her voice so desperate, so mournful.
“Cum.” He answered, and she began to shake, her thighs pressing hard against his hips, her pelvis bucking.
“Yours oh yours only yours.” She whispered as he began to lay kisses on her neck and chest.
He thrust into her suddenly, brutally, her wet, warm hole giving way to the incursion. His hands found hers, pinning them down, and he rolled his hips, pumping his cock deeper into her pussy.
“What are you for?” He asked.
“I’m for fucking Master!” Her body resisted him, as he drove in deeper, forcing the way.
“Say it!” His breath came hard as he pushed into her again and again.
“I’m for fucking for fucking, for you to fuck, only you, oh only you!”
“Why?” He hissed, slamming into her harder, filling her, stretching her.
“Because you own me!” She called.
“Why slut?” he asked, feeling the well building within him.
“Because I’m yours!” She yelled, her own desire growing again as he used her.
“Tell me why Slave?”
“Because I love you Master!” She cried out as he began to explode in her snatch, pumping milky white seed deep inside her.
And he knew that it was true. And he knew, collapsing on top of her, pinning her to the carpet, that he could not be happier.