Master

I knew it was going to be intense, that reclaiming.  I knew he wasn't happy with my attitude.  I knew he needed my submission to him like the garden needs water.  I knew that when things in his life felt like they were spinning out of control, he'd turn to me, and forcibly wrest that control back.

He didn't disappoint.

I haven't written about it, even though it happened awhile ago now.  It was more than my mind could process at the time, really.  And I felt something inside of me change.  I thought for a little bit that maybe he'd finally broken me in some fundamental way, but it wasn't that.  It was that he frightened me perhaps, although I won't lie and and say I'm scared of him.  I'm frightened, however, of the completeness of his mastery over me.

Master has always afforded me a great amount of freedom and independence.  His Dominance has always been quite cerebral and complex, an intricate series of whispered desires and commands woven together like a medieval tapestry.  Images, wishes, and instructions combined to form stories and fantasies beyond my wildest imaginings.  His preference to be in my head all the time so that there is no thought I have that he isn't a part of, and he can see and understand what I am thinking without my needing to say anything. Then we'd come back to the real world and Satan would just be Satan, and Lilith would just be Lilith, and each of us would respect our roles, but not overly complicate matters by needing to assert our status as D/s.  We were just comfortable to know that ours was an insidious relationship, that our very natures afforded us the ability to claim 24/7 status in our lifestyle.  In reclaiming his role as Master, however, he took us to a new level in that lifestyle.

We were supposed to have had wild tent sex two nights prior, but the weather didn't cooperate with us at all. A series of apocalyptic thunder storms rolled through and deluged the backyard, making setting up a tent on the lawn a non-issue.  Then work schedules ramped up, and it was a couple more days before I could see him again.  He didn't want to travel to me, he wanted me to come to him.  He wanted HIS turf, HIS private space.  He wanted to be in HIS comfort zone.  So I settled matters at home with all my dependents, making sure they were good for the night and headed out.

Satan generally objects to harsh discipline with me because he doesn't like to hurt me.  He knows that I was once a pain slut for Jachin, and he never wants me to go back to that again.  He wants me responsive to his hand because I'm genuinely turned on by him, not because I'm getting the snot beat out of me. He wants me to know that there is no place I can run to escape him because he claims my mind first and foremost.  But when I got to his house, a little bit late, he'd been enjoying some Jim Beam.  Jim Beam takes those inhibitions he has about not wanting to be forceful away.  So suddenly he was radiating power and wanting to make good use of it.  He wanted to own his rightful place in my life as my administrator of discipline.

We kissed and he made short work of my clothes.  He got himself naked and pulled the comforter off the bed, threw a pillow on the floor and told me to kneel for him.  I did as my Dom commanded, and he fed me his cock, working his cock inside my mouth, and rapidly getting it into my throat.  He fucked my mouth at his leisure, enjoying his pace, sometimes slow and deep, sometimes fast and hard always loving the feeling of my throat contracting on him as he made me gag.  He likes to see my mouth juicy when I gag, likes to see ribbons of spit flowing down my chin as I service him.  He was so damn hard, and so thick it was difficult to have him in my mouth and be open enough to not scrape or hurt him.  There are occasions when his cock goes from being simply bbc to truly enormous.  His excitement at Mastering me was driving him hard, and he led me by the hair to get onto the bed, and told me to tuck tight so he could fuck my very wet pussy doggy style.  He started to slap my ass, making it sting, and continuing to get the same spot until it really smarted.  He'd roll his hand around my now very long hair and yank my head back to pull me up to him so he could bite my shoulder and neck.  The thought of him mating me in that way always excites me into a frenzy.  That he can lock his teeth into the meat of my shoulder and continue to drive his cock into me hard is usually enough to make me squirt on him like a bitch in heat.

He stopped then, perceivably  to give us a break for a minute, and to go and find a spool of shoe lacing he had.  He'd decided it was time for us to attempt some bondage, and he wanted to experiment with binding my breasts.  So he wrapped them repeatedly, and tightly, until they were rather throbbing, and slightly achy.  He looked at his handiwork, and he was turned on.  He administered discipline to my breasts, he grabbed and held tightly, and he sucked the nipples into his mouth tight and deep, sometimes drawing a bloodmark to the surface with his intensity.  I won't lie and say I'm a woman who can cum simply by having her nipples sucked. However, it did feel damn good and turn me on as well.  Seeing him suckling me, well, lets just say that feeds a deep seeded fantasy of mine of wanting to be able to breast feed my man.  I can't think of anything sexier than someone drawing sustenance from your breast while drawing your pleasure out from your pussy with his hand or cock.  He laid me down then, holding my tits in his hands while he slammed his cock back up into my pussy.  Slowly, his hand crept up to my neck, and his thumb found it's familiar nook on my jaw while his fingers began to press on my trachea.  Breathplay is one of his favorite games during sex.  He's very skilled at it, and he says my pussy grips him incredibly tightly while he's mastering me that way.  He loves that I don't fight him during it, that I'd allow him life or death, his discretion.  That trust thing, it's what the D/s is all about.  He doesn't aim to hurt me, not really.  He'd rather get into my head so that I can't escape from him even when he's not with me.

It's a peculiar sensation when you are reduced to feeling only two things in your body....the point of entry of your Master's cock, and His hand wrapped around your throat controlling the very air you breath.  I could feel the glide of his very thick cock, it was easy, gentle, all about the constant motion of in and out....frictionless and smooth.  Yet his hand would tighten it's grip and he would take one colossal moment to slam it incredibly deep so that I'd have to gasp, and he would tighten that hand a little more.  His eyes are closed when he does this, his knowledge of my body and my responses so intimate that he can go by feel alone.  Yet when he opens his eyes and sees me watching him, he gets a little ticked.  Perhaps he thinks if I'm observing, I'm not participating to the level he wants me.  He knows well my penchant for escaping mentally, and he will beat me to bring me back into the moment.  For that reason he will hurt me....to bring me back to him.

So I had my eyes open, because watching him pleasure himself on my body is a work of art.....he is so beautiful.  But he knew if my mind was taking flights of fancy, that I was a thousand miles away in my mental blog, and not any where near him in His room, and that he risked fucking a shell while I was composing blogs and poetry in my head.  His hand left my throat and I pulled in air quickly, and his hand descended again to leave it's print on my cheek.  He spit at me then, and he destroyed my pride.  And he continued a combination of the both until I was there again, crying and hurting, and stunned......

He shattered me with orgasm after orgasm.  Fucking my ass until I came and until he made me dirty, and then forcing my mouth onto his filthy cock to clean it.  He fisted my pussy until lights danced behind my eyes and I was begging him to stop, begging him to not kill me with another orgasm, and still he'd push me to one more.  He fucked my pussy and poured his urine inside of me, then sprayed me with it so that I was covered in his pheromone.  He'd push my leg up and back and fuck me until the cum squirting out of my pussy was a constant jet, running in streams down his torso.  He'd gulp a mouthful of my cum, and spit it into my mouth for me to swallow.  He'd bite and suck and leave his mark where everyone would see it, makeup be damned.  Every humiliation, every depravity that you can imagine short of cutting and branding me...he practiced them all.

And my shame?  I loved all of it, wanted more of it.

And so, now that I realize that I am not broken, that I am remade, and I am truly owned....I find myself stronger and more dedicated to my service.  I am my Master's dirty whore.