“You can cum. Cum for me, good girl.”

Just hearing him say the words brought her to orgasm. Her sex convulsed around him, mind closed to everything that wasn’t his. The dildo in her arse made the sensation even more consuming. Emma wasn’t sure if she’d even been that close until he ordered it. She came down drawing in lungful’s of air. Master pulled her in tight against him. She nestled into the crook of his neck. Wrapped in his arms, encased in the duvet, she listened to him fall asleep.

Tonight had started like so many before it. Monseigneur left for the day after breakfast. They ate together in the lounge now. He cooked, Emma cleaned. When he finished, she finished. Like every morning, she took his plate, put it in the sink and came back to kneel before him. He was sat in his armchair, dressed in warm clothes; the days were getting colder. Once in position, she gave him a cheeky look to let him know she was ready, and he said the words he did every morning.

“Show your Master how much you’re going to miss him.”

Emma loved hearing those words. He sounded husky and intimidating when he gave the command. Without fail, a shiver would run down her spine. She always kept eye contact in the mornings; she liked to watch him come undone in her mouth. There was something intoxicatingly empowering watching his eyes roll into the back of his head, feeling his hands pull her onto his cock, hearing him grunt and groan as he spilled into her. She didn’t mind finishing her breakfast early if she got to swallow his cum. If anything, it was the dessert to her breakfast.

He would leave then. The rest of her day was always incredibly boring. Time would drag until he got home, though she always had something to do.

Although things hadn’t gotten off to a great start, Emma couldn’t imagine being anywhere else now. He had saved her, really. She often thought back to those first days, that first encounter, and though it had been horrible at the time, nothing better could have happened to her. Every night she went to bed safe and warm in his arms. She awoke to kisses and tender touches. She started each morning with a full stomach, food that he provided for her, and she was learning things. She could truly say she was happy.

When the sun began to set, Emma finished whatever she was doing. It was her favourite part of the day. Butterflies would flip in her stomach when she noticed the orange sky. Time would start moving again, finally. She double-checked every room, making sure everything was in place, clean, tidy.

Every three days Monseigneur would expect her bent over the table, ready for a short maintenance spanking. Today was not one of those days. Monseigneur told her this morning that tonight was going to be different. He wanted her bent over the table with a bowl under her pussy. That was where she was now: bum up, legs spread with a bowl in between them. Emma knew she got wet during spankings: it was going to be embarrassing seeing how wet. She was wetting even now, waiting impatiently for her Lord.

Footsteps on the porch: he was home. Butterflies fluttered. Muscles clenched. The door unlocked, opened, shut, and was locked again. She knew not to look behind her, so she followed the lines in the wood. He clattered around, went upstairs, downstairs. She waited. Well this is riveting. Then he stood behind her. His fingers skimmed over her arse, travelled between her cheeks and straight into her waiting hole.

“You’re very wet, naughty girl.” She could hear his proud smirk.

He fucked her with his finger, getting her wetter.

“Hello, Sir.” She could enjoy herself now that he wasn’t ignoring her. “How was your day?” she said with a trembling moan.

“It’s about to get a lot better.”

Her Keeper pulled his fingers out then and raised them up from her slit to the tight, puckered little knot just above. She clenched instinctively.

“Relax,” he shushed her.

He massaged the knot with firm circles, slipping over all the little bumps of her wrinkled hole, spreading her juices. “Spread those cheeks apart for me, good girl.” His other hand stroked the small of her back, like he might comfort a nervous animal.

Emma’s heart was beating like a hummingbird. She’d done this before and it had been terrible, every time. It hurt and it was messy, and dirty, and just downright disgusting.

“Please, Monseigneur, I really don’t want to, it’ll hurt so much, please?”

“Am I not the first one to fuck you here?” He pressed a little harder, continuing to massage her.

“No Sir, I’m sorry.” She was sorry. She wished he could have been the one to pop that cherry. Both cherries.

“That’s disappointing.” He made her feel like a naughty girl. “Did you like it? I bet you did, you little slut.”

“No, I didn’t Sir, it hurt. Please don’t,” she pleaded for the last time. Either he was going to forfeit that particular hole, or he was going to claim her there too, her pleas probably made no difference. He would do as he liked, whether or not she did.

“Shh, shh, it’s okay. I promise it won’t hurt. If you do as I say, and be a good girl, I think you’ll find it very pleasurable. Now, spread your cheeks. I won’t ask again.”

The warning was clear in his voice. She had no choice but to obey.

“Well done.” His fingers disappeared momentarily, but then returned to her puckered arsehole, wetter than before. “Now, push out,” he urged.

Emma didn’t want to encourage him too much, so she gently relaxed her sphincter, barely pushing. Her fingers gripped the edges of her cheeks. Behind her, she could hear Sir removing his clothes.

“We’re going to need a lot of lube for this,” he said bending over her to whisper in her ear. She could feel his hard on resting against her thigh, the warmth of his back pressed against her body. This was what comfort felt like, if she didn’t know what he was about to do. Fingers stroked along her slit. “You’re already quite wet, but I need you soaked.”

Emma moaned, ignoring the inescapable, focusing on the tingle his touch left behind.

His lips advanced down her neck, licking and nibbling at the sensitive skin. She lost the ability to think in straight lines. His mouth against her skin, the sound of him breathing ran shivers down her spine; those skilled fingers toying with her sex, edging her on and building her higher. It was too much for Emma, and yet, not enough. Everything he did was frustrating: slow and mastered just to tease her.

“That’s it, good girl,” his voice melted in her ears.

Her Lord’s lips reached the base of her neck. Emma was a mess of moans, sighs, and trembling need. His fingers entered again, unhurried, as the kissing resumed down her back. He kissed her all the way to the base of her spine. Although she enjoyed it, it meant that his fingers were taken away from her pussy. They soon found their way to her nipples though, twisting them into hard little buds. She writhed under him.

“Does that feel good?” he asked.

“Yes Master,” she sighed, arching her back as a shot of electricity ran from her nipples to her clit.

He stole his fingers away then.

“You’re very, very wet, naughty girl, you’ve filled a whole bowl!”

Damn, she’d forgotten about the bowl. That’s so embarrassing; she could feel her cheeks burning. His fingers returned to her arse. He pushed one straight past her sphincter. It slipped right in. She had been so distracted by his lips and the feelings he was causing in her pussy that she completely forgot about that hole. She groaned, tensing around his finger. It was an odd mix of pleasure and the odd sensation of being stretched out. If she didn’t test the sensations, she would’ve presumed pain. She pushed against the finger and then clenched her arse again. It was rude. She clenched and unclenched a few times more. He stayed still inside her, waiting for her decision.

“There we go, how does that feel?” he asked her in hushed tones, dragging his finger out.

“It feels very naughty, Sir, mmm.” He was pushing his finger back in. “I like it,” she confessed.

“Good, that’s because you’re my naughty slut. You like doing dirty, nasty things for your Master, don’t you, slut?”

“Ahh, yes Master, I do!” His finger was sliding in faster and she couldn’t help but moan her words. It surprised her, how much pleasure she found in the act. She wished she could see him stretching her. “Monseigneur, can you put another finger in? Please?” She wanted this a lot. It was so bad and wrong, which is why she needed more.

“I don’t know, do you think you’re ready?”

“Yes!”

In answer, she could feel him pressing another finger against her.

It didn’t slip in quite as smoothly. The addition of another finger only heightened her sensitivity. That strange experience of being widened was back. Slightly uncomfortable, though pleasing nonetheless, it would take some getting used to. She would definitely need more anal to know. She breathed out, helping him to ease in. Soon, he was sawing her puckered little asshole with two fingers, whilst Emma moaned and sighed for him, raising her ass up to greet his fingers, then grinding herself down on the table, trying to get some friction on her clit.

“Are you ready for me?” he asked simply.

Fear knotted in her stomach. The girth of his fingers pained her when she clenched at the thought of more. She was enjoying this now, but he was much thicker than two fingers, and much longer as well.

“I don’t know,” was the honest answer.

“I think you are. Widen your arse cheeks for me.”

Emma reshuffled, gripping her cheeks and pulling them further apart. She really hoped it didn’t look ugly. She could feel some of her juices on her fingertips.

“Breathe Emma, you’re tightening up.”

She knew that, his fingers were feeling more and more like an invasion down there, rather than the welcome guests they had been. She expelled a heavy sigh, pushing out around his fingers simultaneously. He removed his fingers, immediately replacing them with the large, bulbous head of his cock. It was much bigger than he had prepared her for, and would not go in. He forced himself against the taut hole. Emma could feel it quiver against his weight, could feel her heartbeat pulsing around the intruding member. She exhaled again, forcing herself to calm down. With that, the round, smooth head of his cock squeezed into her, stretching her wider than she’d ever been before. Emma still couldn’t tell if this was pain or pleasure, but she wanted more of it, if only to please him. She did hope he would finish soon, though.

Master gave Emma a minute to familiarise herself with the sensation. Her muscles palpitated. She could feel her heart beating in the thin skin around him. He groaned behind her. She clamped down on her sphincter, adoring the strained grunt she ushered from his mouth.

“I think you want more, don’t you slut?” he growled into her ear.

Emma pushed back on his dick, taking in more of him.

It was frustratingly slow, but they both relished his possession of her arse. Between the two of them, they gradually impaled Emma on his cock. Finally, he was in to the hilt. The fullness was overwhelming. His balls hung low against her sex. The light smattering of hair tickled her hairless pussy lips. Her nipples ached and throbbed against the hard wood. Her whole body was on fire; every nerve open and exposed. Her Master: conqueror of everything. Her mind and soul, and now finally, every inch of her body.

He began to move in her then, drawing out before creeping back in again. Emma removed her hands, placed them on the edge of the table, in case she needed to hold on. He kept the movements steady, filling her constantly, as far as he could. Although the feeling was familiar, deriving this much pleasure from anal was an entirely other experience. The deeper he took her, the more she moaned and groaned. He seemed to be stroking some secret spot well within her, building a fire deep in her body. He was goading her on, his thrusts gathering speed, adding more wood to her fire.

She could feel her climax mounting within her. To be cumming from her arse was perplexing, mesmeric. It was so much more intense, more profound. He could be anywhere within her now, any part of her physical self, everywhere, and deep within her. It was all blurring into one, that cavernous ache, goaded on by the depth he took her to, seemed to come from a place inside of her she’d never known before. His hands on her hips were faint memories, a distraction to the now.

The walls of her pussy shuddered, but they had nothing to clamp down on. Her clit, buzzing with the desperation to be touched, remained neglected. Her whole body trembled with the powerful force of her orgasm. The stretched hole was so much more perceptive than her sex; she felt every smooth bump and ridge of his cock widening the taut muscles. She knew he was cumming, besides the grunts, his cock pulsing as he spilled cum into her arse. The drops struck somewhere within her, she felt every one of them.

He sagged over her. She was glad to have the table; otherwise, she wouldn’t be able to hold herself up. Both of them panted and gasped for air. It had been the most intense fuck she’d ever experienced. His too, probably. They lay there, breathing heavily, for an age. Only when he got up, did Emma stir herself. He withdrew. A trickle of cum dribbled out. It ran down her thighs, warm and wet.

“Naughty, naughty. Don’t you want your Master’s cum in your arse?” He tapped her bottom lightly.

Emma tried to clench, but it wouldn’t tighten. Cool air hung around her gaping arsehole. He laughed, watching her unsuccessful attempts.

“Don’t move, I have a gift for you.”

She heard him run to the bedroom, then swiftly return. She turned around to see her present. In his hand was a large red dildo. It looked to be an exact copy of him. He wasted no time showing her the gift. He pressed it straight against the gape. It glided in. Exactly his size and shape. Perfect for her. The only difference she could tell, once fully in, was the bulbous ending that he had to persuade into her. It narrowed down again to Master’s thickest girth. That was the stem; its aim to keep her open at his widest point. The flared base stopped her ass cheeks from closing properly. She stood up to face him, feeling very full.

He looked down at her with such pride. Emma was disappointed with what she needed to say to him, but she didn’t feel comfortable. She hoped for mercy.

“Sir, I love it, but I wouldn’t mind giving it some time to close up a little. Can you take it out please?”

“No. I want you open and ready for me all the time.”

Shamefaced for having asked, Emma’s eyes dropped to her fiddling fingers. She found it hard to ignore the pressure in her hole.

“That’s never coming out,” he said, pulling her to him. His arms wrapped around her waist. “You’re going to sleep and shower and eat wearing my cock.” He looked very self-satisfied.

That wasn’t going to last for long. She could not wear this day-in day-out.

“No, my Lord. I don’t want to wear it all the time. I can’t—” She stopped, put off by his exasperated look. It was hopeless to argue with him. His word was her law. “I’m going to wear it anyway, aren’t I Sir?” Emma was penitent.

He nodded.

“But what about when I need to go?” This was what worried her, she didn’t understand what he meant by ‘all the time’.

Monseigneur rolled his eyes, “Of course you can take it out then, but it goes straight back in.”

She breathed; well that’s some relief, at least.

“Yes Sir, right away.” Emma stepped into him, noticing the way his copy cock prodded at her. She snuggled into his chest, depleted of energy, adoring the way his arms tightened around her.