Happy Valentines Day, Part II

Valentine’s day, a little later. I called Master, having just finished putting together a little lunch. Master’s voice was cool, calm… He gave no hint of what was happening in his mind until he said my name with that almost sing-song tone. “Yes?” I replied, still just beginning to recognize this new tone, but I was too late.

“You are my slave.” He all but commanded of me. I felt my chest cave in and put down the fork before I dropped it. Under my breath I framed the word ‘yes.’ The words that followed are a blur to me now, but I vividly remember how each sentence reduced me, seduced me, enslaved me… Only a few sentences and I was trembling and waiting for the next words to make me whatever next he wanted me to be.

He commanded me to strip naked and I did. QUICKLY. I put the headphones back on and stood, naked save the slave collars on my neck and my ankle. Master bent me over the couch, my legs spread, waiting. “What are you?” he asked, giving me that opportunity that I crave constantly to say to him those words; to tell him what I am.

“I am your slave.” He let loose with that sultry, controlling chuckle that told me I had pleased him. The first trickle slid down the inside of my thigh.

“You feel my hands on your hips.” He began, and with that I felt them. Warm. Strong. “One hand slides a vibrator inside your cunt.” It was humming as it brushed my thigh, and as it moved deeper and deeper my legs threatened to buckle. “You feel my hand in your hair, pulling your head up.” My head jerked back, forcing me to be aware of where I stood; of the moment I was wrapped within. A second trickle worked its way around the vibrator filling me.

“My cock slips between your ass cheeks.” He brought me back to the moment and I felt him beginning to work his way forward, as I stood, clutched in the twin moments of fear and want. I heard my own voice as if from very far away; tiny.

“Oh god.”

“You feel my cock move up against your asshole.” He waited right there, poised. Ready, and I realized I’d stopped breathing, waiting for the next moment. But it was not to be that easy. “Tell me what you want.”

I knew what he waited for. I knew that he knew the words that wanted to leap from my mouth. I could taste them right there, right on the other side of my lips, but letting them go was so much harder than I could have ever imagined. This was something I’d thought, but never actually said. But I also knew that he would only wait so long. And that no matter what else I loved, I loved to obey him. So I spoke.

“Fuck me. Please.” I gasped.

“Do you want me to fuck you?” he asked, and I whimpered something affirmative. “Do you want me to move into you?” Again I hoped that making encouraging noises would give him what he demanded. “Then beg.”

I wanted this and we both knew it. We also both knew how hard it would be to say these things out loud. And this was exactly why he demanded it. So I gulped in a big breath of air and I pushed my heart out through my mouth. “Please,” I started, still too timid. “Please fuck my ass, Master.” Hearing my voice saying the words gave me courage and I pressed on, getting louder even as my words became a mish-mash of talking and moaning, the vibrator in my cunt still whirring and his hand still pulling my head back by the hair. “Please fill me up with your cock. Fuck me and make me feel owned.”

“You feel my cock pushing forward, pressing against your asshole.” He rewarded me, and I felt him moving. “S-l-o-w-l-y I slide inside of you, pushing deeper and deeper until I’m buried totally inside you.” I’d felt him open me up and fill me, and once again I almost collapsed at the moment that the nerves and muscles shifted from resistance to acceptance; even pleasure. His hips warm against my cold ass, his hands still on my hips and in my hair but now his voice breathed hot air on my neck as he never stopped speaking. “How do you feel?” he smiled in his voice.

“Full.” I replied automatically, as at that moment all my mind could grasp was how full I was. My cunt and ass both filled to the limit. My cunt pouring down my legs. But that was not all I felt so I kept talking. “Owned. Used. Fucked.” All this and much, much more.

“Still slowly I pull myself back out of your ass until I get to the opening, and then I thrust back into you. You feel me thrusting in and out of your ass.” I whimpered and pleaded and gasped and I don’t know what else. This was something I had been thinking of for so long and now it was happening and my mind was not up for the moment. I wanted to remember every tiny detail – the feeling of his balls as they smacked the round of my ass; my nerves that fought the penetration while still sending shockwaves of pleasure through me; the amazing sensation of complete and abject abandonment of all control…

“Fucking deeper…” continued his voice, giving me no time to gather my wits. Because this was how he liked me: witless. “Fucking faster…” The sounds coming from me began to take on an almost animal-like quality. “Do you want me to cum in your ass?” he asked next. The words were leaving my lips before his had completely hit the air.

“Yes, please Master.” When had I begun to rut back against his penetrations?

“Then beg me, slave.” I could hear how much he was enjoying this new game. Could he hear how much I was as well?

I do not remember all the words that spilled from me for the next many minutes as his cock continued to pound into me. I remember begging him to fill my ass, to humiliate me, to fuck me like an animal, but I know there were many more words. Because every time my flow would slow Master would prod me again, telling me “don’t stop begging, slave.” I remember the second before each new flow of words, when I would realize what I was about to say and take a deep breath, as if a big gust of wind would push these words out of me when my own heart or mind wouldn’t be able to. I begged him to fill me in that place that nobody ever wants to admit they want to be fucked. I thought of this because it was the sheer admitting of how much I wanted this that had my face bright red and hot as a coal. The tremendous shame and degradation of desperately craving his fucking my ass. “Please,” I ended, “I want to feel your cum slipping down out of my ass.”

“What are you?”

“Slave. Pet. Slut. Toy. Possession…” He continued to thunder into me, my ass taking his length more and more eagerly.

“And what am I?”

“Master. Owner. Possessor. Fucker.” My thighs were slick and cold from my pleasure leaking – no, pouring. Pouring out of me.

I heard him cumming, and simultaneously I felt him filling my ass. I knew he was honestly cumming on the other end of the line, and between hearing his pleasure and feeling mine I was overwhelmed. I hoped that I'd remembered to ask to cum, but I know I came, with my legs shuddering under me and my head coming to rest sweatily on the back of the couch. As I came down from the orgasm my brain cleared; the vibrator faded away; my ass emptied.

I thanked him and thanked him and thanked him.

“Can I sit?” I asked at last, once I could breath and think again. His response surprised me.

“No. Place your food on the floor. Kneel on the floor and eat your food there.” I couldn’t believe there was any ecstasy left to drip out of me, but these words shook me once again. I asked for permission to kneel on a pillow, as my hard, wood floors and my knees have never made peace, and he was kind enough to allow me that. As I sat and ate; sat and talked with him, spent my night kneeling at his symbolic feet I felt at home and right and so where I love to be. Master knew what I wanted most of all on this Valentines Day: to be the slave and pet and slut he likes me to be. And then some.