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Slave Master Rides Again: (another [sigh] fantasy)

By L. Turnbull

I know that with a past such as mine, I could narrate many-a-story for you:  The time I lost my virginity at 15 and got caught by Mom and Dad in the process…the night my dance teacher Kira seduced me and my then-boyfriend…the day the sports writer I had innocently dated for weeks decided it was high-time I put-out (despite the fact I was half his age).  I could go for variety.  But I won’t.  Why?  Because when it comes to reflection, I can conjure up just one man—Derrick Pierce, “THE KING OF ADULT”.  He WAS, after all, my first and most skilled slave-master—gifted beyond imagination and a true natural when it comes to subordinating women.
 

Anyways, where the hell was I? Am I this fucking hot, already?

Okay, so travel back with me to May of 2003 (I think). If you recall, Derrick had gotten me into bed (quite easily, I might add) after just three dates. Being barely 18 and having just had the sex of my young life, I decided that “God’s Gift to Sex” would best serve me and only me. So I decided he would be my one and only conquest. He was known for being with lots of women—obviously—so I would have to blow his mind straight into monogamy. I devised a plan to pamper this sexy beast whenever I could—in whatever capacity I could imagine. This included being a proper little geisha girl as well as five-star chef. The women his age were way too busy asserting their feminism to effectively pamper and coddle the male persuasion. But I sure as hell wasn’t.  I planned an extravagant homemade Italian dinner for him, timed to be on the table the moment he arrived home from “work”. Afterwards, I would serve up a few after-dinner cocktails and give him a full-body massage.

 

My master got home around five-thirty, and I immediately took off his shoes and put a martini in his hand. The dinner was on the table, along with a printed menu of the night’s festivities. I can only imagine what was flittering through his mind as he witnessed this horny, little teen serving his every whim, no matter how superfluous. Add to that that I was sans underwear and made no attempt whatsoever to hide this fact. Objects had a way of just flying out of my hands that night; it seemed that every ten minutes I was bending over in my Stilettos and red, plaid miniskirt to retrieve them. I had never been half so clumsy.

The alcohol loosened us up by six, so I had no problem confessing to King Derrick how his supreme fucking had turned me from an innocent high school senior into a horny little slut. That’s when I led him upstairs to better explain my transformation. I stroked his cock a little under his dress pants, and in no time his cock got hard, sticking straight out of his zipper the minute I set it free. I remembered that it was large, but holy fucking shit…

 

I had fucked him only once—in a bedroom darker than this. Now that I saw this erect bad boy up close, WOW did it demand a whole new level of fucking respect. It was breath-taking, and I wanted it in me—RIGHT THEN—never mind the warm-up.  At 18, spontaneity rules over logic.

I hadn’t been done in his bedroom before, but I had fantasized about it enough, for sure. I always imagined that if such a luxury as satin sheets actually existed beyond the sound stage, this man would certainly have them. I had been in plenty of men’s beds before—and no satin sheets. However, like the other successful and hot single men I dated post-Derrick, this man's world revolved solely around him satisfying his every carnal and material whim. And I was glad he took that approach the minute I slipped the decadent, slippery sheets between my bare thighs.

Immediately, Derrick began kissing my lips hard. He was a romantic yet intense kisser. I tended to don the role of pace-setter, typically, but for some reason I genuinely enjoyed seeing myself as this man’s personal little slut and joyfully let him lead. I had become a nymphomaniac after the first romp with him precisely because he was unique:  part man, part brute. And in light of my experiences in second grade and fifth and ninth (oops—I have yet to disclose these events), is it any surprise that I found myself, again, controlled?

As he kissed my neck, I pulled myself out of the sheets and onto his lap. He began grinding his hips into mine—not a gentle, rhythmic grind, mind you. He delivered slow, but power-filled thrusts and used every pound of his weight as leverage. His cock felt harder than concrete; by morning, I was sure I’d see bruising. Did this alarm me—or my 5’1”, 95 lb. frame? Are you fucking kidding me? The first and only thought to enter my mind was “the harder the better”—to the grind and the cock. Since we’d both be totally naked in moments, I estimated I had in the neighborhood of two minutes before he'd be forcing his beast of a penis into my 18-year-old, still tight pussy. At that point I had a decision to make: I could fuck it or I could suck it.

Since I could barely fit his cock in my fully warmed-up pussy, logic reappeared and I chose the latter.

 

As his little slave, I was motivated more than ever to do my job with perfection. I licked and stroked and sucked and kissed his cock until his balls felt to me like they would explode at any moment. He was thrusting his hips upwards and groaning like never before. I was a little caught off guard by his demeanor because he had always been totally in command of me, and he was definitely not at the moment. I looked up at him mid-suck to get an innocent look at the lord-god-king losing it due to my excellent tongue-bath.

I watched him for a minute as he looked over my white, thin body. I was on all fours, which was a pretty novel position for me. With my legs spread far apart and my ass way up in the air, I devoured his balls with my mouth and tongue. Something in his eyes told me I was in trouble (if you can call it that). He was suddenly prone, and his balls slipped out of my wet mouth. Did I make a fatal blowjob error? I realized soon enough that, no, I had indeed NOT screwed up. In fact, I had done my job and blown him to a "level of horny" reserved for rapists and convicts and boyfriends with three-hour long sessions of dry-humping and hand jobs.

Before I could adjust my positioning, he was standing at the bedside sliding my hips backwards to the edge. Still on all fours, I realized at once that I was going to be fucked doggie-style for the first time in my life. I had never had the guts to ask for it before since I seriously doubted I could even manage a dick from that angle. And now the longest, thickest guy I’d been with to date was on fire and ready to destroy my pussy from behind with God-knows-how-many -pounds of pure muscle, and more importantly, better than 8 inches of throbbing cock. I instinctively turned my upper body towards him a little and started to ask whether this was feasible…considering my lack of experience and my thin, petite body. I hadn’t got two words out when he shoved my chest down to the bed. He had the palm of his right hand between my shoulder blades, and his strength was way stronger than I thought. I couldn’t budge. The more I tried to lift myself back up onto my hands, the further down he forced me. He released me a short time later on my own recognizance; he grabbed my ass cheeks with his big hands. And I mean grabbed. He pulled my tender ass cheeks apart for a minute before moving his right index finger up and down along the outside of my pussy. I was moaning uncontrollably by now which just got worse the moment he thrust three of his long fingers deep into my wet, tight pussy. He pressed his left hand against my lower back and proceeded to bang me mercilessly. I didn’t care how loud I was at that moment. I’m sure every neighbor with surround-sound stereo and four out of five electrical appliances blaring heard my gasps and whines and definitely my occasional yell. The only sound that registered in my own ears, nonetheless, was the methodical and unrelenting thud his fingers made when they bottomed out in my rapidly opening pussy.

I almost came at least three times; Oh, I wanted to desperately. Logically, of course, I wanted to last as long as I could for the sake of a good, long fuck. But, c’mon, "reasonable" is the last adjective I'd use to describe me as I’m getting banged into oblivion. Derrick had other plans, regardless. He thrust his cock between my pale ass cheeks and right into my pink pussy. One stroke was my sole preparation for his rapidly-swelling dick. One simple method of delivery followed: fast, deep, and wild. My pussy had never been so full. It barely stretched around him from that angle. I couldn’t even work my hips down onto it because the by-now-rabid fiend intended to keep his little whore in her place. The more I resisted, the longer I stayed pinned. More than a few times, my stubborn acts of rebellion were met with a show-stopping slap he had perfected to the point of what can only be described as true art (and hardly a deterrent for a spank-loving little bitch).

When he did finally release me from bondage (so to speak), I discovered quickly that it was not to give me a break but rather to work my ass with his thumb. He started by just casually touching it. Then when I gave him a glance of the “I don’t think so” variety, he stepped it up a notch by carefully massaging it. I was now sucking my breath in. What the fuck was he doing? I was hardly a virgin, but this was unchartered territory. I’m sure he sensed that I was officially “in over my head.”  And I’m sure that was the exact moment that he let his fingers slide arrogantly into my pink, slightly-puckered ass. I felt extremely self-conscious all of a sudden with my wide-open legs, my exposed pussy in the sky, and of course, and my gently-probed asshole.  From there, my adrenalin kicked in and spun me into an explosive tornado-like haze.
 

I won’t lie and say my night went exactly as planned. It was, by contrast, unpredictable with a series of memorable “firsts” that I had no idea were even coming. I was caught underprepared and was appropriately humbled as a result. He was—well, he was Derrick Fucking Pierce, and I was 18—HELLO... The critical question (for our purposes here) remains: What kind of long-term impression did the night burn on my ever-evolving sensuality?

You know how this one’s gonna end, Friends. If you know me at all by now, you know I rarely view life's events (especially sexual ones) as accidental. Let’s just say that I got everything my overly-confident little ass deserved that night with Derrick--and then some. I was for the second time the “little bitch” that I never thought I could be, let alone wanted to be.

 

I’ve been an addicted “sub” ever since.  And obsessed with Derrick, obviously.
 

THE END  

 

Postscript: Some of you may be curious as to how my mind-blowing session ended. Let's see if I can condense it:  He fucked my pussy hard (to understate it) for about twenty minutes then spontaneously combusted when I grabbed his bulging arms with my newly-manicured fingernails.

 

We had cream pie for dessert. As for the anal, even he dared not attempt with 8+ inches that which two fingers could barely manage. But don't think for a minute he planned to keep his cock out of my ass forever. That’s another story altogether…