[M]y [F]antasy this morning

There was this time recently when he strapped me face down to the bed and then came in my ass.

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There was another time where he wove a harness around my naked torso with rope, and used it for leverage as he pulled me into different positions to fuck me.

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This morning, when he is thousands of miles and many time zones away, I am obedient and only fantasizing about him. I choose the strapped-down ass-fucking time.

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I came back from a run, satisfied in the partial sense that one can be from good exercise. He startled me from checking my phone by suddenly putting a hand to my throat and pushing me against the wall.

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His quiet instructions were to put the damn phone down and remove my clothes on the way to the bed.

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I am usually excited and intrigued when he gets commanding like this.

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Sometimes I’m angry and I fight back, or sometimes the amount of control he exudes just triggers an inexplicable fight response in me.

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This time, it was the latter. He usually conducts himself in slow, measured movements, for most of life. Well, except when it comes to sports. And sex. Then it’s quick and measured, and only when he chooses it.

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This quickly became the speedy kind of control. He both lifted and pushed me onto the bed, holding my legs down under his. This is a good idea, because I have some strength here. He kept my upper body in place with an elbow firmly planted between my shoulder blades, then went to work securing my wrists in the straps he had run under the mattress while I was out.

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This is an inherent danger of going on longer runs, people. Your dirty lover can arrange sex implements all over the house without your knowledge. And then you return, tired and vulnerable, and you get your ass filled with cum.

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Fuck I’m so wet writing this. Damn time zones.

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Once my arms were secure, he could slide backwards and work on my legs. This is a more dangerous move, because again it’s the concentration of my strength. I’ve got an ass that won’t quit and legs made for kicking, and I was feeling a tad feral for having my wrists pulled apart in restraints. My legs flailed and landed a few hits, which elicited a growl from him and then an amused chuckle as he reached out and grabbed each ankle easily. I struggled against these restraints, but by the time he got the fourth one on I was pretty tired.

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I think this is when he got undressed, but I couldn’t see much for being face-down in the bed, my hair threatening to slowly suffocate me spilling down over each cheek.

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Then he began spanking me. A hard strike on one ass cheek, then gentle strokes…a pause, and a harder strike. The smacking sound was satisfying, but the sting was sharp. I couldn’t curl up and protect myself from his open palm, but I knew it was coming each time with that pause, and it was increasing in force.

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Three for each ass cheek, and I was breathing heavily with the intensity of it. He leaned down over me, bringing his face close along my neck and then toward my ear. I could feel the heat of his body over me, his breath on my cheek, and he simply observed, “You like that.”

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Fuck. Yes of course I liked it. I am a degenerate slut who likes to be taken, and he knows it full well.

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Clearly, because he proceeded to smack my pussy.

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I moaned and struggled. He tightened the wrist restraints with each smack, I pulled against them so hard.

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Three total, and I was making some sorts of sounds that probably aren’t human. I wanted free, I wanted more touch, I wanted…something. I just wanted. I was the bare embodiment of want, with crazy hair all in my face and tears running into the bed and my legs spread wide.

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His body moved over me again, and the fullness of the contact was like an antidote. The pleasure of it reduced the fight in me, and he laughed again as he reached around under my hips and began stroking my clit.

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“You like all of this. You like what I do to you.”

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I managed to breathe, but he had wanted a response. His other fingers wrapped around my neck.

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“You like it.”

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“YES,” I gasped. “Yes. Yes, please, yes yes.”

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“Good,” he responded, and stopped stroking me, pulling off. Fuuuuuuuuck. Fuck fuck, why?

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I heard a familiar click, then small squirt. Cold lube landed on my ass and was worked around the entrance. Oh. That was why.

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“No. No!” I squirmed again, ready to fight him on this. He pressed his cock up against my ass and reminded me it was a lot less painful if I didn’t fight.

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“But then, you like to be raped, don’t you?”

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It’s been a long time coming to this, being able to say this statement and it being a part of the things we do to each other, together. Being a feminist from a very sexually conservative background, this man and I have built up to this moment of consensual non-consent. My safe word flashed in my mind. I knew I could use it.

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I didn’t want to.

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Instead, I wanted to tell him no. I wanted to say no, and fight him, knowing I’d lose. The word that would get me out of this in an instant was not at all what I wanted.

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“No! Stop it.” I growled. He pinned my hips with his hands, his cock lubed and hard at the entrance of my ass, and began to push inside me. I shrieked and yelled at him, he listened for the word, and not hearing it, carried on.

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The burning pain of his cock entering me reduced me to a quiet whimper. And then he was fully inside, and his body close to me, and his hand reached around again for my clit.

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Oh god, the sensation of this is ridiculous. After the initial pain of entering, his cock in my ass while he touches my clit just shuts down higher brain functions. Adding in being restrained, and feeling so much of his skin against me, and hearing his almost-whispered words of rape and control in my ear…maybe I should be embarrassed, that this does it for me. But god it does. And he knows it.

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Sight and sound kind of faded around me as my orgasm built. “I want to hear you cum, you beautiful dirty slut,” he whispered to me.

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And he slowed down his thrusts, and his flicks, and his other hand returned to my throat. Fuck I didn’t want him to stop, and I found myself begging him, but in words I don’t usually use. And then my body exploded as I apparently screamed, “Daddy please, don’t stop fucking me! Yes, daddy! Yes.”

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I can’t really debate whether I said this, because at this point I was possessed by some sort of sex demon. He shuddered and pushed and gasped as he came as well. I’m sure our orgasms would graph out as some very pretty, overlapping curves.

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Dirty slut, and also nerdy.

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He collapsed on top of me, immediately reaching over to unstrap my hands. He waited a bit to pull out, his semi-hard cock much easier to tolerate on the exit and when fully erect. A release of the ankle restraints.

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Touching, cuddling, a regaining of language skills.

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And then back to regular life. I don’t think submissive sluts or dominating daddies look any different when checking out at the grocery store, or conducting a conference call. But we’re out there.

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Anyway that’s what’s on my mind this morning.

Source: reddit.com/r/gonewildstories/comments/awuvdv/my_fantasy_this_morning