It all started out with a fight like most of the life altering moments with me. I was fighting and he got mad at me for being mad at him. The usual. The reason is pretty insignificant, but the fears behind it were bigger than life. I was torn about our new arrangement, being owned, because he’d let me down in a little thing, but I saw it as huge, because I was supposed to trust him with my body and soul.
He explained the situation from the doorway; I was sitting on the couch. When he had finished he asked me, if he could approach me and stroke my feet. I let him. I already wanted him near me. He said he needed to adjust to the idea of my new found identity. I can understand that! It’s such a big change and it isn’t easy.
You just had to take too much responsibility as a child, and now you want to give yourself to me, Wonderboy pondered still caressing me.
The exact same thing I had discussed with my therapist hours earlier. Yeah, I laughed. Do you think it’s a bad thing, if it’s born from a trauma? I asked him, because I wasn’t sure, if he was insinuating it or not. No, not necessarily, he answered and kept stroking my feet and legs.
We kissed a little and looked at each other’s eyes. Then I huffed and puffed and just said what was on my mind.
I’m just so relieved, you know? Even with all the wonderful things we’ve done, I’ve felt something’s missing. And I never could tell you what I wanted, and it hurt you too. I already thought I had to get aqcuainted with the scene to find out what I really wanted, to be with other people, even. But I only want to be with you.
At this point Wonderboy smiled an introverted smile. What? I asked but he just shaked his head a little and hugged me more tightly. He didn’t echo my words, which I took notice of.
Now I know what I want, I continued to say, which made him kiss me.
He gathered some of my hair from the back of my head and held me loosely from it, close to his face, kissing all my face with his tender lips.
Yes I am. I’m yours.
And I felt like I’ve felt sometimes, when someone’s held my face. Someone a lot older who sees something they lost in me. I felt I was safe, cherished, owned.
He stopped kissing me suddenly and looked away. I thought maybe he felt we had reached the end of the argument and he wanted to go play the guitar or something. But then he said:
Take off my socks.
I was on the floor quicker than it took a small smile rise to my lips. My heart was quivering in a powerful grip. I took his socks off clumsily and started to massage his feet tentatively. I didn’t know what he wanted me to do and he didn’t say anything, just looked at me. His feet were a bit smelly, there were dirt from the long work day between his toes. His feet are hairy. They are nice to caress. Long bones, sticky skin, delicate yet so big. And they are unquestionably man’s feet. They are so different from mine.
I held him in my hands, one foot at a time, and he. He looked at me. There was something in his eyes, in his posture. It had changed. It was relaxed yet claiming something. Strong and sure of himself. Intensely there.
There’s this certain feeling I get. This warmth that comes from inside. It relaxes all my muscles. It changes my posture. It goes to my stomach, my cunt and my ass, my thighs and lower back like a warm shower. My chest rises, it’s lighter somehow. My head bows a little, but my mouth strives up, my lips part. My eyes. They surrender. I surrender. I feel faint, especially in my arms. They are light as feather.
I open up. I step into myself.
Feels nice, he said and I guess he caressed my head for a bit and I let my head be guided by his hand.
Okay. Enough. Go to the bedroom, he exhaled and off we went.
He lay himself on the bed, fully clothed, put his hands behind his head and said: Undress me.
I got on the bouncing bed, giddyish, my hands trembling a little and started to open his fly, his belt. I felt like I was accomplishing a deed that was strange to me, strange and also hard. I felt his eyes and ears on me. I felt how he accompanied my every movement with an intense examination. I didn’t know, if the resulting conclusion was good or bad.
Do these come off together? I asked hesitantly, when he lifted his hips for me to take off his shorts and underwear. Yes, he answered.
I hesitate a lot more, when I’m in this mental state. I’m so open and fragile. I won’t make any decisions by myself. And yet I do…
Since I swiped the clothes off his feet, opened them up again, straghtened them and folded them nicely on the floor, although this he hadn’t specified. I felt it was right to honour his clothes like that. I couldn’t just toss them somewhere. When I drew the clothes over his cock, it bounced up and against his stomach pretty hard. It’s always a surprise to me that he seems to be so turned on from nearly nothing.
But it hadn’t been nearly nothing, and this was my first teaching. It had been everything. I was servicing him. He owned me. I’d do anything he’d command. It was as important for him as it was for me. Just in a different way.
This was my second teaching. We feel differently about this even though we both want it. I wasn’t wet myself, as far as I know. But I was happy. Giddy. Content.
Take my glasses too, for a while, so you can get my shirt, he instructed me and I did. I liked, when he gave me specific advice. I like it, when I’m being held like that. With his words.
Massage my quads, he said. He’d had a rough work out in the morning, and knowing this I was more than happy to oblige. I knew this would make him feel better. I was making a difference. He was controlling me. His eyes were all black the way they turn when we talk about something really important, emotional, and he looked at me with those eyes, his head elevated a little from the pillow to see me better.
His cock started to twitch and grow, and he started to jack it. I was sitting prettily on my knees and massaging his thighs and I left out an audible sigh of desire.
Just focus on massaging, he said and kept on jerking his cock.
It was hard. I stole a glance on his cock, but tried very hard to concentrate on his thighs, getting all the muscles. He instructed me some more, where and how much pressure and I smiled with content when he commended my performance.
You’ll be a good masseuse. You do that really good. It feels better already. That feels really nice.
With every praise my heart grew fonder. I was making him happy. I was making him feel good. It felt good to do his bidding like this. To have a purpose.
That’s enough, he said suddenly.
What now? I asked sheepishly.
Now. Lick my cock, he said and when I lowered my head to kiss his lips, smiling eagerly, he added: Wait. I want to be standing up. He stood up from the mattress and positioned himself right in front of me, might have guided me to his cock too and to a more upright position. He glanced at the baby oil on the bedside table, or really the chair beside our futon.
You massaged me really well. Now you will massage my cock. We’ll see how good you are with that. You can add lube at any point.
I poured some baby oil on his cock saying I’d add some right away. Then I took his cock into my hands and started to pull on it with both hands, one on the bottom and one on the top.
More gently in the beginning, he said.
I stroked his cock so that my fingers didn’t almost touch it the whole time. I rounded my other hand on the mushroom head and caressed it with my fingers just to slide my hands down again. He grunted and sighed. The cock grew and stood straight up. I played with his balls too, fingering them like trying if they were ripe, balling them around a bit. He started to pour precum. I’ve never in my life seen anything like it. The dripplets were a stream flowing down his shaft, hitting the floor, stringing my hands. I had to. And so I started to try to catch them with my tongue. All the while I was massaging his cock ever so lightly.
Harder, he said. A little harder.
I started to tug him pretty tight. I could feel the muscles, the veins, the pulsing and every time my hands came up his shaft, there was a stream of clear precum just welling up from the tip of his cock. I’d catch it immediately with my tongue or I’d lick it with a few licks from under his cock or I’d plunge after it to catch it, and I didn’t break the string. I lulled the salty precum in my mouth and from between my open lips it would still be attached to his cock. The string would unite us. Until another would well up. And another, many at a time.
My hands started to tremble having to reach up like that, and I relesed one of them to the mattress to support me more upright. I brought my breasts forward and my butt further back. I reached for his cock with my mouth.
Use both hands, he commanded and I did.
God you look good like that, he murmured, feeling up my breasts, my neck, my hair.
You look so hot. You’re such a good masseuse. That feels so incredibly good.
I was pulling on his cock fast now, but tenderly, letting my fingers trace it’s surface, not only forcing their way along it. Every time my hands came up, my tongue would be there licking his cock head. Eating his precum. My body posture was perfect, my legs as wide as they could go on the mattress. I was grinding myself against the bed now in his rhythm. I was as close to coming as I didn’t realize he was. He reached to my cunt and his fingers just slipped right in and smushed around, I was so wet.
You’re. God, you’re all wet.
Yeah, I let out a hoarse whisper.
That feels so good, he said and let go of me. Ohhhh.
His knees buckled more than once, he was after all standing in a slight crouch so I could reach his cock from the mattress.
Stop, he said with no uncertainty.
I stopped immediately. He has never said stop to me. He has always asked politely, if I could possibly change my position. My mouth was still open, in front of his pulsing and rock hard, glistening cock. There was a stream there still between the cock and my lips. I lifted my hands from his cock to the air.
Officer, it’s not even my car.
I knew that he had almost come. He was standing, bewildered. He never loses control. He has never difficulties in delaying the pleasure. In fact, he always, always does it many times when we make love. His cock was so delicious hovering over me like that that I just wanted to touch it, to make him come right now.
But of course I didn’t. He’d given me an order. I was intoxicated byt that knowledge.
He pushed me on the mattress, took me by the legs and lay me in a position he liked and came on top of me. He caged my legs like he likes to do with his arms as giant hooks. I was as good as between my own knees, he was pushing me that hard against the mattress, my ass sky high just the way he likes it.
He couldn’t get in right away, I was so tensed from pleasure. But when he did, he was all bent out of shape. And so was I. Because he wouldn’t stop talking.
I own you. I don’t care about your pleasure. You’re mine. I can do whatever I want with you.
Yes you do. I am yours.
He was fucking me so hard and keeping me in a position which made his cock reach the bottom of my cunt so hard I had to yell. Ouch, ouch, ouch! And then ohmgGODohhhmmmmyohohOH!
But he wouldn’t have it.
No, you don’t get to complain. I don’t want to hear you say ouch. I want you to scream from pleasure.
You like everything I do to you.
It was an order. And it worked.
You like this, don’t you? Say it. Say you like it. You like me hurting you.
I like those little sounds you make. Uhmmm. They’re sexy. Do those sounds, they make me so hot.
I was getting close, and as I do I very usually start yelling no. I don’t think about it and I don’t decide it. It just happens. So I yelled no, no, no!
And he chastised me immediately. You can’t say no, baby. I get to do what ever I want. You have to say yes. You can only say yes. So, I yelled yes, yes, yes, but I ended it up with fuck, fuuuuck, because he was really pounding his cock in me. It hurt, it hurt, it hurt and the pain turned into pleasure that exploded down in my cunt, hips, lower back and thighs. Everything was burning, tingling, opening and pulsing.
You swear too much. You should’t swear. Good girls don’t swear. And you are a good girl, aren’t you?
Yes, I sighed and my voice quivered from the pounding and the necessary deep, short breaths. I am a good girl. I won’t swear again. I’m sorry.
I’m sorry. I’ll be good to you.
What is your job?
To make you feel good.
A very good answer. Yes it is. And it’s all the same how it makes you feel, isn’t it?
Yes, yes it is.
And I came. I came, and came and came and came and came and I don’t even know anymore at what point or what happened. He keeped me in the sub space talking to me, handling my body effortlessly, pounding me, hurting me, choking me a bit and then slapping my face, but only a little. Only when I yelled fuck. He smothered his face into me, his whole big, lean, long body, his hairy chest. I was open-mouthed, screaming into him, not being able to breath, so open, so his, so owned, so flushed away. And he let out a happy and a turned on mhhhoh, when my squirt hit his scrotum and balls and wet the bed.
He turned me around without any warning, violently now, and pounded into me again commanding me somehow. I was struggling to keep under him, to keep against him, I leaned on the bedside table on the other side with my hand, just to keep on the bed, just to get his cock slammed in me again and again. He kept making up protocol, I don’t remember anymore and possibly didn’t understand, as he kept getting closer, moving my head around, my hair around, my hands around, smacking my ass with his fist, just out there, way out there somewhere.
Until he came growling.
Until I came again.
And then he took me to his arms all out of breath, eyes wide as ever.
Just for the record, not that I care about it and not that is’t important, just to know where you are right now… Did you have a good time?
Yes. Yes I did. It was the best sex I ever had.
He let out a rough laugh like he questioned my judgement and then. Then he closed his eyes and a smile ripped his lips. He let out sighs and murmurs. It was. Undeniably hot. No. It was. Hot. He opened his eyes and his sexy teeth were all showing through his smile. He trembled a little and hugged me closely, hard. I knew he meant it was the best sex he ever had too. I’m good like that. I just know.