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Afternoon Dom-light

A Master and slave have an explosive first meeting.
I don’t think I’d ever been so nervous in my life. I sat there on the padded bench in the hotel lobby, one of my legs bouncing restlessly over and over again as I tried not to fidget and failed miserably. My palms were sweating. I’d already wiped them off, twice, and pretty much gave up on them not sweating after that. I had a box of twizzlers in one hand and a bundle of roses in the other, and I was compulsively checking my phone for the time and to see if I’d gotten a message. Anything to distract me. It was 1:27pm, exactly two minutes since the last time I’d checked.

I was pretty firmly out of my element. Though I was excited, and felt like this was right, if I’m honest, part of me wondered if I was totally out of my mind. I wasn’t usually the impulsive sort, you see. In most areas of my life I was a very careful kind of person. I tended to ere on the side of caution. I didn’t do things like this.

But then, nothing had been quite the same since she came into my life and turned everything on its ear.

We found each other online. Neither of us was looking for something intimate or deep or meaningful, just some friendly conversation, maybe, but more typically, a quick romp of a sexual cyberspace encounter for some relief and release before going on with our respective lives. Simple. Casual. Meaningless.

It was her fault, really. She started things out by actually talking to me, because she made it seem like she wasn’t really interested in sex at all. It wasn’t my M.O., to go into that kind of chat without some gratification in mind, but that’s where we ended up going anyway. I got to know her smile, her laugh, her wit, and by the time I realized how wrong I was about her sexual designs where I was concerned, it was pretty much too late.

The problem with Jess was, it was so easy , so right with her. Talking with her was effortless, and for the first time in my life, I felt like I was understood exactly as I was.

Oh, there were rough spots, don’t get me wrong. She was a little spitfire and full of emotion including her moments of struggles and uncertainties and moodiness.

But, unlike in my previous experiences with women, when we had our problems, I could talk to her about the issue, say the right things, and fix the problem. And that feeling was so fulfilling and wonderful to me, it really made me realize how deeply something so simple and clean and vital as the feeling of being able to make things better in a relationship was utterly foreign to me.

It wasn’t long into our relationship that Jess and I entered into a power exchange dynamic. It was new to both of us, but something we’d each wondered about and wanted to experience for a long time, but never could find the right person for. The depth of sharing and bonding as we became Dominant and submissive, then Master and slave, only intensified the amazing attraction and pull we felt toward one another.

I can hardly describe the need that came over me. From the beginning, our relationship was supposed to stay casual. But that wasn’t to be; we morphed from friends, to fuck buddies, to Master and slave with a speed and fluidity that would have made most in The Lifestyle laugh. And it was supposed to stop there, and go no further. We would be forever ‘online only’, connected on a deep, intoxicating level, but through our minds and hearts only. A meeting in person was simply out of the question. We would come together, share those bits of each other we could, and live our separate lives.

The pull was too great, though. We were meshing and getting consumed by each other, and soon, we finally broke down and decided to meet face to face.

In a completely uncharacteristic move of impulsiveness, I made the two hundred and fifty mile trip from my home in Georgia to her town in Florida. I went to the hotel we agreed to meet in, and waiting for her to arrive.

If you had told me three months before then I would be meeting a woman I met in an online sex chat, in an entirely different state, that I also happened to be deeply in love and had chosen to Dominate and subsequently enslave, in a hotel for the first time? I would have laughed and said you clearly didn’t know me well at all. The whole thing was so entirely out of character for me it was ludicrous. And even as enamored as I was, I could see the sea of red flags everywhere. The whole premise smacked of a bad idea.

But despite all that, even nervous as I was… somehow I had never been so sure of anything in my entire life. I knew, in some unexplainable, irrational part of my core, that this was right. She was right. We were right. I don’t think even today I can properly explain how I was so certain. It was just an instinctual feeling, and I felt it so strongly, I was willing to risk all that we both had to follow it.

And so I waited, nervous and anxious and on edge.

The door to the hotel lobby slid open. She walked through, and my whole world narrowed down to her.

Short like me, she was older than me by ten years. She didn’t look it; her face was young, oval shaped with a swarthy, natural light tan. Her eyes were big and brown and expressive and her nose neatly rounded at the tip. Her hair was dark chocolate and thick, glossy locks spilling straight down to the top of her shoulder blades and parted down the center. She was a curvy woman, with rounded, supple hips, a generous round ass, and heavy, ripe breasts. She wore simple, plain clothes; a nicely fitting gray T-shirt, a pair of blue jean shorts, and sandals.

My Jess. My girl. My slave.

She was the most beautiful sight I’d ever seen.

Her eyes fell on me, and she smiled softly, almost shyly, those big brown eyes staring into my gray gaze with all the love and adoration I’d always known she had inside.

That was all it took. My nerves fell away, replaced by a sureness and confidence I’d never possessed before. It was as if everything came into perfect clarity in that moment. Again, unexplainably, I knew I’d made exactly the right choice, and that realization was freeing in a way I never knew before. I stepped to her, and held out my gifts for her, a small bouquet of roses and her favorite candies. Her face lit as she accepted the unexpected gifts.

Before she could say a word, I kissed her, my lips finding hers urgently as my hands came up and framed her face, cupping her jaw in my hands. She was tense for the barest of moments; and then she yielded to me, gave in to my kiss, and surrendered. She tasted of the gum she was chewing and the faintest trace of the cigarette she’d smoked earlier to calm her nerves. I found cigarettes distasteful, but I didn’t care just then because it was her , and nothing could be bad about that kiss and the feel of her finally under my fingers and the taste of her submitting to me.

We stood there in the lobby, lingering in that first, deep kiss, that first moment of true contact. I don’t think there was anyone around but the desk attendant, who politely said nothing. I could have cared less if there was a whole roomful of people. I was with my girl, and she was mine, and we both savored that moment with all that we were.

All too soon, we came up for air. She rested her forehead against mine, smiling that same shy but happy smile with her heart in those deep, dark eyes.

“Hi,” she said.

“Hi,” I smiled back.

“I can’t believe you’re here, Sir,” she said quietly.

“I’m here, girl. I’m here and you’re all mine.”

“I’m yours,” she agreed with a satisfied sigh. I brushed my thumb against her cheek, wondering at the softness and suppleness of her skin. She’d told me how soft her skin was, but to feel it was something else. She clutched her presents to her chest, her eyes alternating from staring into my face to looking down at my chest, and I knew she was etching every moment of this into her memory.

“So…what now, Sir?” she asked after that long pause of simply existing in the same space together.

I wish I could say I’d been a classy gentleman. I wish I could say I told her to take me out and show me the town. That I took her to lunch, or shopping, or we went and walked the streets hand in hand. That we talked and laughed and shared a fine, sunny Florida afternoon together, breathing in the cool salt air and watching gulls swoop and circle as we talked about our childhoods and sweet nothings and what we wanted out of life while people walked past and commented what an odd but happy couple we made.

Instead, I led her down the hall to the room I’d reserved, opened and then shut the door behind us. It was a fairly nice room, nothing extraordinary or luxurious, but comfortable and clean with plush, soft king bed and nice furnishings.

Neither of us noticed a single detail of the room as I pushed her up against the wall, one of my hands in her hair as I kissed her fervently, my mouth claiming hers as she so readily yielded to me. Her hands gripped my biceps, feeling the muscle shifting there as I pressed against her. My tongue worked into her mouth, caressing and stroking, swirling, finding her own tongue and dancing with it in a passionate whirl. I took her lips between mine and sucked sharply, firmly, nibbling and pulling my girl’s full lower lip with my teeth. She moaned into my mouth, squirming in my arms already.

I broke the kiss and stared down into her eyes, watching her. I breathed in the scent of her, the smell of sweet fruit perfume, a smell I would always and forever associate with her.

“My slave. Mine,” I said to her firmly.

Her eyes fluttered as she took the words in, then nodded imperceptibly. “Yours, my Master.”

Such a simple word, for such a powerful, heady effect. I’d heard her say it before, of course, over the phone, but to watch her face as the words left those beautiful full lips…

I gripped her hair; my eyes never leaving hers as I craned her head back at a sharp angle. Jess gasped softly and her lips trembled. Using my grip on her hair, I guided her down to her knees. She knelt at my feet without question, staring up at me with starving eyes.

“My pants, slave,” I ordered.

My girl hastily undid my belt and unbuttoned my pants. As she slid my zipper down, I caught sight of her eyes staring up into mine, glossy and bright with lust, the intensity of her need and desire laid bare in those shining, dark brown orbs.

And then my pants were undone, and she gripped my black boxer-briefs and slipped them down until the thick hardness of my cock was exposed, and she had eyes only for my dick. She stared at it closely, intently, reverently even, and a visible shudder coursed through her.

I allowed her a moment, then, to fully take in the sight of me. When at last her eyes turned back up to mine, my slave said in that impish, playful voice of hers, which was husky with lust by then, “I know I said before that I was going to lick and taste every inch of you…but I don’t think this can wait right now, Master.”

My hand reached down to rest atop her head, my fingers slipping into her thick, silken hair. That was all the signal she needed, and she dropped her face down into my lap, grasping the base of my cock in her small fingers. She extended her tongue to run over my rigid flesh, tasting my cockmeat for the first time as she painted a long, wet line along the underside.

I’m still not sure which of us groaned with more pleasure.

Jess’s mouth explored me, tasting me, memorizing the texture of soft skin sliding over firm, unyielding muscle along the shaft of my cock. She even seemed to be enamored with the smell of me. It was amazing just to watch her, to see her reveling in that moment of personal pleasure and fulfilment. Then she began to explore my dick in earnest, her tongue swirling all around it to coat it fully in the wet warmth of her saliva, the flat of her tongue ran up one side and down the other before spiraling back up and circling around the flared rim of my cockhead. She hungrily bathed the spongy, swollen head in warmth and adoration.

At last she looked up at me through hooded eyes and plunged my cock into the slick grip of her mouth, pushing her head down on that first intake and swallowing my meat until the blunt head of my cock butted up against the back of her throat. She groaned deliciously then, and I felt her shiver of delight. She slurped wetly, deeply, her cheeks hollowing as she suckled on my flesh.

Both my hands tangled in her hair, then. I allowed her a few more moments of exploring on her own, letting her pleasure me at her own pace. She took my heavy cock into the tight confines of her throat, slurping deeply, her lips stretched around the base of my dick as her throat muscles squeezed and milked at me. She gagged, drew back, then plunged down and gagged all over again, the sound wet and struggling and primal and delicious.

My self-control waned before long. My hands gripped her hair firmly and I dug my fingers into her scalp. My hips began to thrust and work, pumping my meat in deep, long strokes in and out of her throat. The slave knew who was in control and surrendered, opening her mouth and tight, silken throat to me as best she could while her tongue worked and caressed along the heavy underside of my dick.

I fucked her face hard and deep, using her talented mouth for my pleasure. She choked and gagged, gasped for air and sputtered. Soon saliva was spilling in great, glossy ropes from her lips and her chin, spilling down onto her shirt. Her eyes stared up at me wide and reddening as I pounded my dick down her yielding, welcoming throat. My balls smacked wetly against her chin as I forcefully bobbed her head up and down my length, taking my pleasure from her, as we’d both known I would. Jess’s lips stretched wide around my thrusting cock, puffy and bruised from my abuse, and all she did was moan and whimper and accept every bit of my use with pleading eyes.

She thought at any moment I would reward her with a big load of much desired cum, I knew. She was taut and yearning for it, begging with her eyes to get her belly full of warm seed.

But I wasn’t willing to give it, not just yet. I was possessed of a sort of need that wouldn’t be so easily slaked.

I pulled her off my cock with a sloppy, wet pop. My pet sagged to the floor, panting and gasping as her own drool spilled from my saturated cock down onto her upturned face.

“Up,” I ordered simply.

It took her a moment to gather herself, and then the slave quickly complied. I circled her slowly, my hands touching, caressing. Her body was already strung tight as a bow from the thrill of sucking her Master’s cock, and even a light touch made her tense and shiver. My lips curled wickedly, almost cruelly at the corners of my mouth, pleased beyond measure.

I helped her to strip out of her clothes. The underthings she wore beneath weren’t quite so plain; her bra was a black scooping number that pushed her ample tits up and together, leaving her soft breasts bare almost to the nipple. Her panties were black as well, and lacy, with a little pink bow along the back in lace above the boy cut style bottoms that left the round curve of her juicy ass exposed.

“Show me,” I commanded her, and she knew exactly what I meant.

Swallowing heavily, Jess lay down on the bed on her back, and spread her supple, soft thighs to boldly expose the treasures bared by her crotchless panties. Her cunt was puffy and thick lipped, smooth and hairless and plump, her outer labia engorged and already sticky and glistening with her obvious arousal. The soft pink of her inner flesh peaked through between her soaked folds, wet and desperately awaiting attention. Her clit was stiff and swollen and peaking ever so slightly from its hood. She had a beautiful pussy, promising endless pleasure and satisfaction for both of us, wet and wanting and proudly displaying her need for her Master’s touch and attention.

“Masturbate, slave. Touch yourself for me.”

“S-Sir?” she whimpered softly. She didn’t want to touch herself, I could see it plain as day in her eyes: no, I don’t want to do this, I want you to do this, please touch me, I’m right here open and wet and waiting, touch me! Don’t make me do it, I need you !

But I was nothing, if not a touch sadistic.

“Masturbate, slave. Now. Get those fingers to work in that cunt.”

She bit her puffy lower lip, and obeyed.

Our eyes never broke contact as her hands slipped between her widely splayed thighs and she ran her fingertips along her plump folds, dipping into the pink flesh between her labia. She shuddered, stifling a gasp as she touched herself for my pleasure. Her fingers circled her pink, slippery hole before dipping in, one finger and then two, pumping slowly into her gripping tunnel.

I watched with intent, hungry gray eyes, devouring her as she toyed with that delicious, smooth pussy. Her juices flowed even more plentiful as she pumped her slick hole, the fingers of her other hand finding the hard nub of her clit and stroking it firmly, almost roughly, her juices squelching softly as she toyed with her flesh.

I gripped my shirt and tugged it off, tossing it carelessly into the corner without caring where it landed, my eyes never once straying from the lewd sight offered. I saw her eyes run over my exposed upper body, tracing the line of my chest and shoulders, the way my muscles shifted under my pale skin, and then down to my proud, swollen cock still jutting from my opened jeans. As she took in the sight of me her breathing quickened, her breasts heaving up and down deliciously as her fingers worked deeper into her dribbling slit.

“Such a slut,” I said smoothly, my voice deep and relaxed, taking an almost hypnotic quality. “Look at how wet you are, how squishy your cunt is, all because you’re being forced to play with that horny hole of yours. You say you don’t want it, but your pussy damn well does.”

“Please, Sir…please…” she whimpered, dipping a third finger into her gripping hole.

“Please what, slave?” I growled, my eyes flashing as she began to shake and quiver before me.

“Please, Master, please may I cum!” she cried, her back arching as her hips thrust and wriggled, her fingers working rapidly, plunging in and out of her slit as she stroked vigorously at her throbbing clit.

“Cum, slave. Cum for me, now!” I granted her release.

Jess yelped loudly, her glossy eyes screwing shut as she came. Her pussy dribbled out a flow of sticky girlcum onto the bed as she writhed in the ecstasy of release, her whole body taut and overwhelmed with pleasure.

I gave a small, satisfied smile as she sagged back down to the bed, her muscles twitching as she sucked in a lungful of air before slowly licking her lips. I watched her, studied her, and devoured her with my eyes. I memorized every curve, every line of her, the wet pinkness between her thighs and the swell of her generous breasts rising and falling with her deep breathing. The way her eyes glossed over in her moments of purest pleasure sent my blood racing and pounding through my veins.

She was in me and I could do nothing but take her and own her and claim every bit of her, inside and out. I had to have her, there was no two ways about it, and my very being demanded it. It was foolish of me, to love her so deeply already, foolish and stupid and a sure setup for heartache, but I didn’t care. I was what I was, and I could no more deny my hunger to possess her than she could deny her need to be devoured and taken by me.

“Open your legs wider, girl,” I commanded in a deep, rumbling voice. She did as I ordered, her body still trembling slightly. She stared up at me under hooded eyes, and I saw that despite the satisfaction of her orgasm, her need hadn’t waned one bit.

My hands gripped her thighs, feeling that soft, supple, smooth skin under my fingers for the first time. My fingers dug into her pliant flesh. Jess gasped softly at the sweet pain of it, and I saw the lust pooling in her dark eyes only grow more fervent with the pain.

I wasted no time; I promised myself I would tease her, would toy with her, would draw her out and string her along soon enough, but now wasn’t the time for that. My little interlude of making her play with her cunt had exhausted all the restraint I had. I pulled her thighs up, tilting her hips up toward the ceiling as I lean in. I pressed my face between her thighs and into the soft, smooth folds of her delicious cunt. My lips wrapped around her weeping slit and gave a firm, hungry suck, pulling her engorged lips into my mouth. I tasted her for the first time, her pussy already so wet and flooded that her juices filled my mouth. My tongue split the cleft of her cunt, sliding between her sticky petals and running firmly up the pink flesh between.

As my mouth worked her over, Jess gasped loudly, her eyes going wide as her back arched off the bed. “Oh fuck, oh shit! Masterrrr…that’s…oh God that’s so fucking good,” she moaned and whimpered. Her voice was a deep, quivering purr of sensual satisfaction, her words dripping with as much lustful appreciation as her sex. My tongue found the warm, wet tunnel of her pussy and dove in, sliding up into her hole and swirling inside her to gather more of her honey. She tasted like sex, like a desperately horny sex slave wiggling and squirming just for me. I drank in her arousal, my tongue working inside her and driving her crazy. I stared up at her, letting her see the way my desire for her made my gray eyes flash darker than before.

When I’d finally tasted my fill, I ran my tongue up the length of her slit and finally attacked her clit. The stiff, aching pearl was sticking out from her hood, begging for attention. I happily obliged, gripping my slave’s thighs hard as I took her swollen clit between my lips and sucked, roughly, as the flat of my tongue pressed to her sensitive nub, pushing against it, flicking and then circling across it.

Jess lost it. She screamed and her hips shimmied and worked, bucking and grinding her clit against my tongue as she gripped the sheets. Her pussy was hot and wet and trembling as I worked it over and I wouldn’t relent, not even for a moment for her to catch up to the overload of sensations I inflicted upon her.

“Please, Master, please, please may I cum! Please!”

I nodded my head and growled an affirmative. Then I bit her clit. Not overly hard, but bite it I did, taking that hypersensitive nub between my teeth and nipping it, rolling it back and forth between my teeth as I watched her face blossom. For the briefest moment, alarm registered on her face, then the flare of pain. And finally, the pleasure, the release, the explosion of endorphins and sensations as pleasure and pain collided in her body, and instead of warring for control, they coalesced into something bigger, something greater and more powerful, and my slave screamed and screamed as her orgasm washed over her so powerfully she could do nothing but ride it out.

She lay there, gasping and shuddering, and I quickly tossed off the rest of my clothes. Jess hardly even noticed, too lost still in the afterglow of that powerful orgasm.

When I climbed atop her, pushed her thighs open wide, and speared my cock into her still clenching cunt, she noticed.

I gave her no warning, I simply took what was mine, burying my cock into the warm wet sheath of her cunt in one deep, hard thrust. Jess’s eyes went wide and she screamed, her back arching hard as her breasts grazed against my chest. I held her hips and took the very briefest moment to savor that first penetration, the blissful feel of my cock enfolded in the warm, gripping, hungry core of my slave girl.

Then I was thrusting and bucking and fucking her as I took her, possessed her fully. I didn’t give her time to adjust or prepare, I just claimed the flesh that I owned and used it for my pleasure. My cock pounded deep, plunging into her in long, punishing strides. My hips smacked into hers and I held her down and rutted into her welcoming body.

Jess was lost. She alternated between throaty, trembling moans and wild, keening screams. She’d warned me she was loud, and she wasn’t exaggerating. Her screams and shrieks and passionate pleading served as a cadence to my thrusting, every wail ripped from those lovely rosy lips inflaming my lust. All the anticipation, all the waiting, the teasing, the possibility… I took every last moment of it out on her, powerfully driving my cock down into her upturned, yielding core.

“Master, please, please m-may I,” my slave begged.

I granted her release through clenched teeth as I continued to drive my rigid cock deep into her milking cunt. Her internal muscles came alive around my shaft, gripping and flexing and pulsing deliciously as she screamed out her release, those big dark eyes wide and staring up at me with all the soft, indistinct edges of a perfect moment.

I was a man possessed, tireless and desperate as I’d never been, driven by the need to tear the woman below me down to her very foundation, to lay her bare so I could see all the pieces spread out before me before putting them back together again the way I wanted them. I’d desired this moment and run it through my head so many times, and in almost every scenario I’d been methodical, slow, deliberate, teasing her out bit by bit as we came together.

The reality was anything but. It was frantic, urgent, a heedless, careless crashing of lust on lust, not a bit of it careful or slow or any of the romanticized things we’d both envisioned.

The effect was, nonetheless, the same. As Jess came again, launching from one orgasm into the next, and then another until neither of us knew where one ended and the next began, crumble she did. She was unraveling underneath me; the intensity of the sex, the completion of finally being together, the unequivocal rush of being under my power and giving herself to my demands sent her spiraling.

The sex was deliciously carnal, intense and passionate. The physical sensations were toe curling, the kind of mindless, wicked fucking that leave the bottom of your foot cramping and you don’t care because you can’t… fucking… stop. After her first few orgasms, Jess stopped dripping, or even dribbling. She started gushing, hot sprays of girlcum splashing from her in waves as my cock drove deep down into her core, the head of my length catching that spot deep inside her over and again that made her erupt until we were both a sticky, slippery, delicious mess fucking and shifting atop the sodden hotel sheets.

But ultimately, impossibly, the overwhelming physical sensations paled behind the intensity of what we were exchanging on a deeper, more intimate level. Every moment of that was a claiming. My claiming her, my possessing her, my statement through flesh and fluid that I owned her and she was mine, and damn whatever obstacles and roadblocks life had thrown between us.

She felt it. She knew it. I saw it there, laid bare in those hauntingly beautiful eyes. She was my slave, and I was her Master. A simple truth, rooted into the core of both of us. It made every moment I was inside of her a deliverance.

That night, I fucked Jess longer than I’ve ever fucked anyone before, and longer than I’ve ever fucked her since. I don’t know how long we spent entwined, my cock buried into one of her supple, willing holes as I bit her, scratched her, took her nipples between my teeth and pulled and stretched the hard red nubs until she sobbed and came all over again.

Hours. I had feared, before, that my anticipation of this joining, my utter need for my slave would undo me prematurely. Quite the opposite turned out to be true; once I started ravaging her, I seemed incapable of stopping.

By the time I flipped her onto her belly and plunged my cock deep into her already sore and well used ass one more time, thrusting and bucking and driving my cock deep into that hot, gripping tunnel as she sobbed beneath me, Jess’s flesh was marred with my handiwork. Her tits were covered in teeth marks and bites and hickeys, and her thighs and hips bore the bruises of my gripping fingers. She was beneath me, sobbing, screaming, her face smeared with tears and saliva and pre-cum. She had her face buried into the bed, and I could still hear her screaming as she weakly but determinedly thrust her upturned ass back against me to take my cock up her hungry ass to the last inch.

Finally, it was all too much. I buried my cock into her clutching ass and my whole world came undone. My teeth found purchase on her soft skin just above her shoulder blade and I bit, hard, muffling my roar of release, of fulfillment, of victory into her silken flesh. In that hard, claiming bite, I wrung a last overwhelming orgasm out of her where she’d thought she had none left to give.

I’ve heard that women’s orgasms are far more intense and expansive than men’s. I don’t know if that’s true or not, but if it is, I think that I felt something akin to what it was like that night. After so much time working both of us through that intense, exhausting gauntlet of sex and sharing and intimate, heating joining, when I finally came it felt like I was being twisted inside out. My entire body went tense and rigid; my muscles locked and flexed so hard I thought I’d never relax again. Pleasure and sensation and sweet, blessed, final release exploded like a bomb through my entire being, and ground zero was my cock fully embedded in that delicious, milking ass.

“Yes, oh fuck yes…it’s so good…oh God, I love you, and I hate you, I fucking hate you, Master…” the slave beneath me whimpered and sobbed, her words coming out in a tumbling hiccup that was barely intelligible as she gyrated her ass on my lap while my cum erupted into her, a gut wrenching quantity of seed spurting over and over in hot, gooey ropes to fill her willing bowels. It seemed to last forever, and I didn’t know I could possibly hold so much.

When it was finally over, we both collapsed, she onto the disheveled, soggy sheets, and me atop her sweating, shaking body. I’d fucked her so hard and long, now that it was over, I realized my cock was intensely sore from it, still buried deep into her ass, and I didn’t even have the energy to move to alleviate the discomfort.

It only took a few moments before the tears started. Jess began to shake beneath me, harder than before. She started to sob. Great big, gasping sobs that left her sputtering and hiccupping and struggling for breath as hot, glistening tears rolled down her flushed cheeks.

It was something we both should have discussed and figured out way ahead of time; what exactly she wanted me to do if and when she fell apart on me. But we were inexperienced, the both of us, so new and raw and learning. We engineered so much of our dynamic as we went along in our typical reckless, loving, instinctive fashion.

Instinct had gotten us this far, so I let it play out again. I gingerly pulled back until my wilting cock slipped from her ass, and took her into my arms. I wrapped her up tight in my embrace, snugging her to my chest, her face pressed to my shoulder and neck, and let her cry herself out. I didn’t shush her, or rush her. I didn’t discourage her tears or ask her what was wrong. I knew how intensely effected I was from the last few hours, and I was on the giving end. I could only imagine the overwhelming rush of feelings, emotions, sensations and experiences she’d just gone through as a new submissive.

Slowly, her crying began to fade and quiet. She was still shaking, but not as hard now, and those big, quivering sobs had slowed to sniffling and soft, tired little whimpers as she slowly came down and came back to herself.

“I don’t hate you,” she said at last, her words coming from between gasps for air. “I... love... you… Master.”

“I know, my slave. I know. I love you, too.”

I held her, and I told her she was a good girl, and I told her how beautiful she was to me, red faced and puffy eyed, with her lower lip trembling and her face shining with tears. In that moment, she was more beautiful than any other.

I told her she was my good slave, and that it was going to be okay.

And it was.

***
Authors Note (rantiness ensues): Firstly, I want to clarify that the titles ‘Master’ and ‘slave’ (particularly ‘Master’) do not indicate experience or competence in the above story, but simply, the relation and titles by which the parties involve relate to one another and identify. I understand some in the scene/lifestyle have strong feelings that those titles are attributed to a certain level of experience or aptitude in the scene and cannot be given to someone lacking experience. I acknowledge this view point, and respect it. I also respectfully do not agree; I am of the belief that one’s position as a Master, or a slave, is more about the identification of oneself and also that of one’s counterpart (which may be more, or less, important than your own identification, depending on your point of view). This is my view and my perspective of living, yours may very well vary, and that’s okay.

This story is protected by International Copyright Law, by the author, all rights reserved. If found posted anywhere other than Lushstories.com with this note attached, it has been posted without my permission.

Copyright © All content of this story is copyright 2015 by Returning_Writer_Guy and is my intellectual property. This story is not to be redistributed under any circumstances without my express written permission.

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