There are rare moments in which an entire experience feels as if it were carefully scripted by some etherial observer. This was one of those evenings where hours of training, months of romantic dynamic growth, an ideal mood, and even my own thoughts and reflections were all pulled together to create a lasting memory.
Once again, this has been hastily written up on a phone in some limited free time so I apologise for error and frankly not my best writing.
This will be the second and final part of this brief recollection, beginning from the moment the focus shifted from mutual connection in our kinky natures, to the expression of the hunger and thirst a dominant man has to control and ravage the woman he desires.
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“The god of love lives in a state of need. It is a need. It is an ugre. A homeostatic imbalance. Like hunger and thirst, it’s almost impossible to stamp out.”
Almost.
I will admit that it was only upon later reflection of the evening recollected here that these words of Plato came to mind and tied so nicely, not only to my thoughts earlier that evening, but to the experiences which followed.
My eyes fixed on the ceiling, enjoyng the rumbling light projecting from the fire place which glowed in my peripheral, occassionally obscured by my hand wrapped in my a woman’s hair. My brow furrowed, I could feel my nostrils flaring and the twitch in my upper lip which created a rather sinister looking snarl, something I was still self-conscious of as it tended to reveal itself unintentionally as my mind and body became increasingly dominant and aggressive.
Rising from between my legs were mixed sounds of her groans and the unmistakable, but rather indescribable, noise of cock being obediantly and lovingly sucked, and a throat being mercilessly used. By now I was shoving her down by the back of her head, full force, and immediately pulling her back off until just the head of my manhood sat between her lips.
Just as she had happily learnt how to take such unrelenting use, it had taken me time to feel comfortable releasing such intensity onto such a beautiful creature that I cared for. Of course, it is only by my appreciation and desire for her that I felt such an urge to primally invade and take plesure from using her body in the first place.
Her hands had shifted from behind her back to under my thighs to steady herself during such violent movments, she would naturaly squeeze harder as she was struggling for breath until I released her to allow her gasping, sputtering breath.
“Such a good little slut taking my cock so well,”
“Thank you Sir,” she managed a very genuine, loving smile through the gasping which I couldn’t help but return as we locked eyes. She would have seen “the fire” in them as she often described, and before I had even decided to continue enjoying her throat, she returned her arms to behind her back and, without breaking eye contact, pressed her lips over my cock, sliding my entire length into her throat, just before the point she tended to gag, and held herself there looking at me with smiling eyes.
“SUCH a good little slut,” as I returned to my ravaging of her pretty little face. This time I wanted to feel the head of cock hitting against something, so I pulled her kneeling body closer with my legs, to give her a more vertical angle, and used my free hand to grip under her jaw. She felt like a slave girl, entirely surrendered to my use, and I knew she felt the same.
With both hands creating a vice-like grip on her head, I pressed off of my feet on the floor, lifting my body from the chair and slamming my manhood into the back of her throat. The angle was perfect, too sharp to easily slide down her neck and make her gag, just the right spot to hit the back of her throat with some force, sending waves of pleasure through my cock. I’m unsure how long it lasted, thrusting again and again, but later discussion confirmed that like many of these moments time had stopped for us both. We were entirely locked in our own world of power, love, desire, and unrelenting dominance.
At some point I decided I wanted to take a different sensation, both mentally and physically, from my little play thing. I stood, removing my shirt and ordering her to fix her pony tail, probably with a tone of “how dare you get your hair messy you little slut”. She knelt patiently, hair neatened, knowing anything could happen next and that it is was place to adapt and serve in whatever form it took. And she would.
“Stand, facing away from me, feet apart, bent at the waist and hands on the arms of the chair,”
“Of course Master,” came the simple, obediant reply.
Upon reflection, I was always impressed at how composed she could be after such aggressive use. She had swallowed all the excessive saliva and muscus her body had produced. She had neatened her hair and was holding her form exceptionnally well, and without missing a beat she had replied while in the process of rising to her feet.
She turned her back to me as I stood, back warming by the fire, stroking my cock and looking at her with a mix ojf primal desire, deep ownership, and passionate affection. She settled her heels, just more than shoulder width apart as she had been taught, into the carpet and bent at the waist, her hands adjusting a few times on either arm of the chair. The small amendments to her position weren’t for comfort. They were for bracing. She knew what was coming.
A little flick of her head to have her hair sit over one shoulder was accomanied by the tilt of her hips as she formed the best possible arch of her back from muscle memory. Once again she locked eyes with me. I must have had the look of a man admiring a piece of art because she felt the need to tease me.
“Yes Sir?”
What a naughty slut. She knows this evening is going to continue to be hard on her, and here she is effectively begging to be used sooner, and harder, than I might otherwise have done.
Well then. If that’s just how submissive she’s feeling, let’s see how well she takes it.
I don’t bother to respond to her words but instead take half a step forward and land a slap square on her right ass cheek, hard enough to make her jolt forward and the air to escape her. Before she had even righted herself fully I pulled her lace panties down, out of my way, bunched around the top of her stockings, trapped by the clips from the garter belt. I bent my knees slightly to adjust my height, place one hand on my cock to guide it into her, and the other on the small of her back.
Right as the head of my manhood brushed between her pussy lips I looked up from her soft entrance to her face, locking eyes once again as she looked back at me. She had pursed lips and a creased forhead already. She knew how I liked to start. I liked to claim her. Hard.
I leant forward, pressing my entire body against her in a single, firm movement. My cock’s entire length slid into her as I watched the flashes of orange light flickering over the soft flesh of her cheeks. She gasped and began to close her eyes as she knew another full forced stroke would follow. The back of my right hand swiftly landed across her cheek with a slap, and my left hand gripped her left shoulder tightly as she returned eye contact from my strike,
“Don’t you dare look away girl. Look at me when I take what’s mine,” there wasn’t a verbal response but an apologetic, submissive nod. That will do.
I left one hand on her shoulder, the other now on her hip as I pulled out to the tip. Her lean body felt exquisite under my hands, the soft skin and smooth lines she kept in check as part of her service to me. Strangely, her delicacy and beauty simply made me want to use her harder. I turn her into a moaning, slobbering little fuck toy for the night.
She managed to maintain eye contact this time, but let out a whimper as I shoved my full length inside her, leaving it there as she readjusted her grip. And again. Another whimper, though I could see the creases on her face relaxing.
I maintained my grip, enjoying each thrust, each jolt that made her breasts move and hanging pony tail jiggle. She was soon struggling to maintain her posture, both on her feet and her hands. I had been watching her shoulder blades edge closer together as her body slowly fell further forward under the unrelenting assault. It felt incredible. Every thrust was a moment in time of her body and mind being entirely mine, surrendered for my enjoyment and control.
I won’t be describing the specific sensations of her body around my cock here, nor give too many details about her various words and reactions, for such things are for her and I and our memories together.
As her body began to buckle under the pounding and I was settling in to my evenings entertainment, I moved her onto her knees on the seat of the chair, and allowed her te rest her head up on the high back. The pounding continued, my primal urges were in full swing and she had become my toy, my slave. My hands moved throughout her body, sometimes using posiitons to fuck her deeper and harder for a few minutes, sometimes grips to adjust her position for my visual satisfaction, arching her back and pressing out her chest, and others were to make her feel completely, inescapably, purely owned by me.
At one point I had slowed and was enjoying whispering things in her ear, pulling her by the hair. I distinctly recall looking around the room in a moment of existential ecstacy, feeling entirely and unapologetically myself. Showing affection and releasing this part of my nature, dominating a beautiful woman I love. Her semi-naked body dressed as I desired, sprawled over my armchair where I spent my favourite moments, my own quiet alone time. My bookshelf, adorned with the writers and thinkers I absorbed myself in. My desk, littered with papers and notebooks, where I spent most of my day. It was quite an unforgettable and self-affirming moment. One I still credit with helping cement things I already knew in my head, but had not neccessarily reached my heart.
I returned to my slave girl, as she evidently was by this point, raining down slaps across her ass as I tugged on her hair. We both loved the sensations and reactions of causing her pain whilst using her. Her moans turned to a mix of groans and gasps as I felt her body tightening. I reached my right hand around her thigh to between her legs, finding her clit just above where my cock was continuing to slide in and out. Index and middle finger worked together in rapid, tight circles and light pressure, immediately causing her body to writhe and tighten all over. My other hand continued to pull her hair as she rapidly approached climax.
She was reminded in no uncertain terms that she will not be orgasming without permission. Once again, here I shall pull down the veil of mystery on the remainder of that little sequence, as I feel sharing such an intimate moment to the open world seems a little unfair. Suffice to say she was allowed to… eventually.
Not long after, as I berrated her with a mix of loving and humiliating names for how well she was serving me this evening, I felt my own orgasm building. An opportunity to claim this little slut even more. To use her AND to give her the most personal and intimate gift. As the sensations built, I gripped her upper arms in either hand, pulling her head and shoulders off the head of the chair, leaving her held up entirely by my grip. She knew what was happening and began her own barrage of words, however hers were begging to be used harder, thanking me for owning her and using her, asking for my seed inside her. I mustn’t have been long from that moment, I locked eye with her over her shoulder and a growl rose in my throat as it often did in such moments. She had began move back into time with my pounding and gasping with each thust turning me on all the more. that moment came, and so did I. I slammed into her three or four more times, each shoving her entire body forward into the chair as a stream of my hot cum burst inside her. With a final thurst and throb of my manhood, I somehow ended up on top of her on the chair, cock buried inside my property, my face pressed against her cheek and neck.
After those gorgeous moments of heavy breathing and ecstacy had passed, I stood, withdrawing my softening manhood from inside her and pointed to the ground in front me by the fire. Without hesitation she was back on her knees in front of me, messed hair pulled over one shoulder, back straight, and mouth on my cock and balls. She knew she must always clean me after she’s been used, ensuring she’s taken after last drop of my seed.
Once I was happy with her work, I pulled away, gently cupping her chin in hand and looking at her lovingly.
“Do try not to be late home girl.” And with that I left her kneeling by the fire to reflect as I left to get another cup of coffee. Afterall, there was more Plato to read.
Source: reddit.com/r/Erotica/comments/no66lf/by_the_fire_part_2_mf_ds_ownership_a_recollection