I gasped as he suddenly straddled my waist, pinning my arms painfully to the bed with his knees, increasing the discomfort as he shifted above me. I was trapped. His cock, thick and hard, bobbed above my lips, just out of tongue-reach as I tried to lick the tip.

“No,” he said sternly, raising his hand as if to slap my face.

I winced, bracing myself for the blow, but when I dared to open my eyes again he stroked my cheek and smiled wickedly.

That smile.

That face.

He was so handsome it made me ache to think about it. I wanted him from the moment I saw him - tall and dark with those beautiful green eyes and that defined jaw and those lips that made me tremble at the thought of kissing them – on that otherwise humdrum morning in the queue at the coffee shop. I saw him nearly every day after that, our early caffeine fix routines serendipitously synchronised, later discovering that he'd just moved to the area to start a new job, allowing our paths to cross.

I often wondered what he was thinking about as we stood in line, what kind of work he did all day, in his smart suit and his tie, if he had a girlfriend or even a wife at home, despite his lack of a wedding ring. But mostly I wondered what it would be like to fuck him, breathe in his scent and taste his kiss. The word lust is inadequate to describe what I felt. I wanted him from somewhere deep in my bones.

He always looked so remote and preoccupied, I don't think he really took much notice of me, despite a few polite smiles and nods of wordless recognition. I had almost resigned myself to just admiring him from afar, when one morning I clumsily dropped my handbag and spilled the contents all over the floor. Ever the gentleman (or so it seemed), he helped me pick up my things and I blushed scarlet as he handed me the pair of emergency knickers I'd forgotten were in there, that had somehow landed at his feet. I cursed at the time that they were virginal white cotton and not something more exotic from my extensive collection. I needn't have worried. I soon learned that innocent on the outside and sinful on the inside was exactly what he liked, after we got chatting and eventually swapped numbers and all this began.

The only thing l knew back then was that I felt an overwhelming animal desire for him that I couldn't shake. I didn't yet understand that I would be his but he would never be mine, and that I would want it this way. I didn't know how natural, how strangely pure and good it would feel for him to own me, but never the other way around. I didn't realise how much I would gain by giving up my power to him, how spectacular the transendence would be.

“You're not going to suck it yet. You're going to watch me.”

My eyes were glued to his cock as he started to stroke himself, his fist smoothing up and down his considerable length, turning me on and lighting a fire in my loins, his green eyes menacing and glazed as he stared into mine.

He moved back slightly, easing the pressure a little on my arms and making it so his cock now hovered above my tits. My chest was still flushed from our fucking earlier and my nipples were two hard pink peaks on creamy white flesh, further betraying my excitement. He pinched one in each hand, twisting them between his fingers, watching my face until it registered both the pain and pleasure he wanted. I watched him watching me intently, enjoying his scrutiny and being consumed by his gaze.

He returned his hand to his cock and started rubbing it again.

“You're just going to lay there like a good slut should while I come all over you. And you are going to like it.”

He emphasised the last two words, his voice was deep and firm as always. It was reassuring, yet demanded obedience, and the sound of it could get me wet in seconds, no matter what he said. I never imagined I would come to love hearing him call me names so much, that I would revel in hearing him say I was a slut, a whore, his bitch. That his pulling my hair and spanking my ass would make me melt more than a thousand tender carresses. That it could feel so good to let him treat me so badly yet fuck me so well, and that it didn't make me feel bad at all, just incredible, and liberated in a way I never knew I needed to be.

My eyes narrowed in a mixture of desire and contempt as he pumped his cock faster, the head an obscene shade of moist red and looking like it was about to burst. I loved seeing him so aroused, his weight pinning me to the bed with his powerful torso looming over me, his dark hair sweaty and falling into his eyes. My heart was pounding and I licked my lips. I wanted to lick him all over. He was just delicious, all perfect contours and smooth skin with a sprinkling of hair on his broad chest.

“You like seeing me stroke it, don't you?” he purred. “I bet you wish it was inside of you right now. I know how much you love to ride my dick. I know how wet you are for it.”

“All the time,” I whispered, feeling simultaneously so heavy and so light, I was scarcely able to breathe.

“Mm,” he nodded slightly in agreement, “because you're a little slut who's always wet and wanting my cock. Aren't you?”

“Yes.” The heat between my legs felt molten, my pussy was dripping just like he said.

“Well you're not having it now. I'll decide when you... deserve it,” he gasped, his cock twitching and getting even harder. I could see from the wetness at the tip that he was close, probably fighting the urge so he could prolong my torture, and our mutual pleasure.

“You want to suck it so badly, don't you? I've never known a whore who likes the taste of cock as much as you do.” His tone was harsh, but his eyes gleamed with undisguised delight as he stared down at me again.

“I like to please you.” My voice was soft and almost apologetic.

“It's all your good for,” he countered sharply, his fist pounding a fierce rythym. “You exist... in this moment... to be used for my pleasure. And you like it... don't you?”

“Yes.”

His hips bucked as he tightened his grip on his cock, his jaw set with concentration.

He briefly closed his eyes, lids fluttering in ecstacy as he brought himself to the brink once more, increasing the pace. He opened them again and roughly grabbed my one of my breasts, his thumb making a circle around my nipple and then kneading the flesh.

“Ask me... ask me,” he panted, stroking faster, sweat running from his forehead. “Tell me you want to me to come all over you.”

“Please,” I begged, in just the tone he liked, breathy and low and not too whiny, “Come for me. I want you to spray it all over me. Please.”

He moaned, almost at the point of no return. I tried to anticipate where it would land first, whether he would shoot so his salty tang would hit my lips and drip onto my chin (I wouldn't open my mouth unless he ordered me to), or if he would paint my tits with his warm streaks of white, and then order me to rub it into my skin. Marking me as his. Either was fine with me. Whatever he wanted. It was almost disconcerting how much joy I felt at being little more than his cum rag, and how much it made my pussy ache with need for him.

I didn't have to wait long to find out where on my body his target would be. Seconds later his handsome face contorted into that familiar grimace then almost instantly relaxed into a serene look of release, his hand still working his cock as it throbbed and pulsed its load onto me, the force of his ejaculation splattering my hair and eyelids, my cheeks and my lips, even the tip of my nose. I giggled, high with the thrill of being pinned down and made to watch him come, then having this huge overpowering man reduced to a quivering mass of pleasure and relief right before my eyes. As his orgasm began to subside, he gritted his teeth and shifted slightly, directing his cock so the last few dribbles squirted onto my breasts. He leaned back heavily, sighing with satisfaction, and finally freeing my arms. I stayed still, my heart thumping and body humming with arousal.

After looking me up and down, he reached over to the bedside table and lit a cigarette. He took a drag, curling his lips around it in that sexy way of his, then let the smoke out and surveyed my now decorated form again.

“You look very pretty like that, covered in my spunk.”

I smiled dreamily. “Thank you, sir.”

He took a few more puffs on his cigarette, staring at me through the haze of smoke. I still hadn't moved at all and a trickle of semen ran from my chin down my neck. He traced it with his index finger which he then held to my lips.

“Suck it.”

I did as I was told, taking it into my mouth as if it was his cock, swirling my tongue around it and tasting his bitter saltiness.

“Mmmm,” he glanced at my soaking crotch, and thighs slicked with wetness, “you liked that, didn't you, you little slut?”

I nodded shyly, praying he would touch me there.

“Play with your tits for me,” he commanded, stubbing his cigarette in the ashtray before reaching down and expertly sliding his fingers across my swollen clit and the wet slit below it, but not dipping them inside. He knew I wanted him to, desperately, but as ever he liked to tease. And as I liked equally to please, I cupped my breasts with my hands, rubbing them together so the last of his juices melted away into my flesh.

“Look at you, you filthy bitch, smearing my cum all over yourself. Do you like it when I leave my scent on you? Does it remind you who you belong to?”

I answered with a low wail as he finally slipped two fingers inside me, probing deeply while his thumb pressed against my clit. I thrust myself against his hand, wanting more. I could see his cock stirring again, growing hard against his thigh as sat beside me. I tried to reach for it, wanting to feel his velvety soft hardness, but he stopped me by moving his hand from my sex to grab my wrist. I sighed in disappointment.

“I said I would tell you when you could have this,” he growled, a note of anger in his voice as he gripped my wrist tighter. “Do that again and I'll tie your hands behind your back for the rest of the night.”

I could see from his eyes that he meant it, they had that mean, determined look that drove me wild. He knew how much I loved to touch him, feel his beautiful cock, cup his balls and run my nails down his chest and stomach, making him shiver. I liked to sweep my hands along the hard line of his shoulders, down his taut back and then squeeze his gorgeous ass as he fucked and kissed me deeply. He liked to deprive me of this by holding me down or binding my wrists, rendering me even further to his mercy.

With deliberate slowness, he returned his hand to my pussy, gently easing his fingers back in. I closed my eyes and groaned as flexed them inside me, searching for my g-spot. He was so masterful with his hands, whether he was playing with me or being rough, and I loved how they could turn me into nothing but electric sensation, my whole self literally a toy in his palm, powerless to prevent him doing whatever he wished and never wanting or even thinking to stop him. In those moments, just like he said, I existed for him and his desires only. My desires were fulfilled by being extinguished; I had circled the square and it was divine.

I wanted to surrender everything, for him to have total control, in return for what he gave me: the absolute freedom I tasted in the time we spent together, when I was his slut and his slut alone, absolved of any responsibility except for his pleasure. The most equisite gift I'd ever been given, and one I never even knew I wanted until he presented it to me.

As I reached again for his cock – boldly this time, making a show of my defiance – he fixed me with one of his stares, cold and penetrating, giving me the feeling of being reduced to rubble inside, like I was falling into another dimension.

Trust is an essential part of the games we played and he was absolutely a man of his word. Tonight would be no exception.

“I warned you,” he muttered darkly.

Then he stood up to get the rope.