Tuesday, May 6, 2014

Used Slut, Or, What It Is All About

Last night I was worn out.  Master and I had been to work together, then got home early enough to have a short but very hard and exhausting (mentally and physically) play session before any kids got home.

That night, I waited in our room for him, naked and prostrate, just the way he likes.  I was expecting to be ordered to go straight to sleep.  It didn't work out that way. 

It's no big secret that I love sex.  I love my Master. 
 I love pleasing him.  

But, as he said to me the other day, "Sometimes when your mouth is saying 'Whatever you want, Master', your body language is saying 'I don't feel like it'.   And those times it is totally hot to make you do it anyway." 

 Is it wrong that I agree with him?  That sometimes I think that is what this is all about, at its heart?

I may have started out with a little inner resistance or diffidence, but it didn't last long. A little humiliation, a little force, a little pain, and his cock down my throat, and I was an eager slut again. 

   After he'd flipped me over and was about to fuck me from behind, taking what belongs to him, he told me to resist, to protest, to tell him "No, stop, I don't want this".   He whispered to me his dark fantasies, which scared me a little.    He wrapped his arm around my throat, his body pressing me down against it, choking me.   He thrust hard into me until he came, and I came also, as he commanded.  

All my resistance had melted into just being his possession, his slut, his holes to use.   

Being his is what it is all about.  I felt so utterly secure, so owned and possessed, as he wrapped his body around mine and we drifted off to sleep.  I need this. 



 






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