Westworld

Master was fucking me today, on the floor with my hands pinned at my back.  I was under him, me on my stomach.  I could barely twitch.  I could sorta breathe.  A little.

"Want to play 'Westworld'"? he asked.

"Unf. Ok, Master, what does that mean?"

"You're being raped."

I guess that makes him Ed Harris. 

I couldn't even move my arms but I tried to wiggle anyway, gasping and groaning.  When I wiggled too much he beat on my back with a stick.  Eventually he got up and I thought I would crawl away but he grabbed my shoulder in a wrestling hold and flipped me over as easily as you would a sheet of paper. 

He slapped my tits and face and made me come, repeatedly.  He fucked me into a collapse state, giving up the struggle.  

A while later I thought he was sleeping and I came down to answer messages and work on the blog.  I'd just gotten the first two lines here done when he came into the living room.  

"Whatcha doing?" I asked, in my most slaviest of slavey manners.

"Getting my cock sucked."  He did too, and frosted me all over so I needed another bath.