Master-Slave Connection

"Yes! Yes!" he snarled, and he began to fuck her with hard, sure strokes that rocked her on the sofa and made his loins slap against her.

Helen moaned, her cries louder than the humming of the vibe, so far gone that she almost forgot to announce: "Permission to come, Master? Permission to come?"

"No!" Alex growled, and immediately pulled out of her, leaving her hanging, whining with disappointment, her open pussy gaping like a cave in the earth, dark, open, and inviting.

He quickly untied her legs and sat down on the sofa with his cock standing straight up. "Ride me," he said. "Facing outwards. Back to me."

Helen lost no time in getting up, confused and dazed as she was. She waited while Alex gathered her dress up in back and swept it to the side so he could see her naked ass, then guided her back over his lap and positioned her above his rampant cock, her legs spread awkwardly.

"Get the vibe too," he warned her, so she reached over and picked it up.

As she settled down over him with a grateful sigh, he slipped his fists between her ass and his thighs, making spacers that limited how far down she could sink, and Helen again found herself frustrated in her attempt to take him deep. She could only get the tip in, just the head of his cock, and she began to twist and writhe on top of him in desperate frustration.

"Oh fuck! Damn it! Master! Please! Give it to me! I'm so close! Oh God! Please, I need it!"

But Alex wouldn't be moved, and he held his hands there between her ass and his thighs, a hard look on his face as she tried to work herself off on this meager portion of cock he allowed her, pressing the vibrator against her clit and twisting her hips, grinding her pussy against the stub of his dick that was inside her.

Helen lost all sense of composure, all sense of self-respect. Her hips moved like a belly-dancer's, a whore's, a sex-maniac's, the muscles of her cunt squeezing him, desperate to milk the cum from him, desperate to get herself off as well. She swiveled and revolved, humped and bounced, but his fists were there acting as spacers, denying her, keeping her from sinking down and getting what she wanted.

"God, that's good!" he groaned. "That's so good when you work against my head like that, bitch! I think you're going to make me come. You know that? I really think you're going to make me come."

His word thrilled her, and she was about to redouble her efforts when he suddenly lifted her ass off him and pushed her away, laying her down on her back on the sofa and crawling between her legs.

"Okay," he said. "All right, you slut. Let's finish this. Let's finish this right now."

"Oh! Oh yes! Yes!"

He bored into her and Helen wrapped her arms and legs around him and moaned in satisfaction as he took her all the way, balls-deep, totally fucked. Immediately he started fucking her and fucking her hard and deep, chasing the orgasm he'd almost reached before, and Helen just let go and let him take her there, her body open to him, limp and relaxed, a body to be used.

He fucked her so hard he moved her on the sofa till her head was hanging off the edge, her hair swinging with every thrust, her breasts sloshing on her chest, her bound hands braced against the coffee table. He fucked her as they climbed that mountain again together and her limp body came alive with tension, her back arched, her legs spurring him on, her mouth seeking him out, sucking his salt-slick sweat..

"Fuck me! Fuck me! Fuck me! Oh God! Permission to come, Master! Permission to come!"

"Yes! Do it! Do it, bitch! Come on me! Come all over my dirty cock, you hot slut! I'm coming too! I'm coming too!"

Alex smashed into her, his hands gripping her buttocks, pulling her against him as he shoved his cock deep, deep and held it. Deep as he felt her body seem to uncoil for him and blossom, her legs fall apart, all of her open for him. He thrust deep and felt his own rivers open up and he began to jet into her, great hot streams of ejaculate shoot into the depths of her, blinding, coruscating whips of pleasure: release, conquest, power, freedom. Here it was, the thing they'd never been able to achieve together before in all their time online, in all their role-play and lonely masturbation and exchanged messages no matter how intimate and revealing, so simple and so fulfilling, so essential and so human: flesh in flesh, full contact, absolute fusion, total connection.

Slowly they came down. Slowly the waters of passion receded. Panting, numb, too stunned to speak, Helen and her master lie fused together, their hearts racing, bodies oozing sweat. Her legs fell weakly open and from her pussy dribbled a lewd stream of his ejaculate, as if he'd filled her to overflowing.

He slowly pulled out of her and lay down beside her. He put his arm around her and held her till their heartbeats slowed. He said nothing and she didn't feel like talking either. Finally he got up and asked, "Where's the bathroom?"

She pointed and watched him as he left, not disappointed, but curious as to what he'd do now. She heard water running and the toilet flush, and in a minute he was back, his face shining. He'd washed. He began dressing.

"So now you know who I am," he said. "Does it ruin it for you?"

She watched him from the sofa. She hadn't moved since he'd gotten up, but surreptitiously, she closed her legs, which had still been open. He was still dripping out of her.

"I don't know," she said. "I don't think so. I think it makes it better. And worse too, I suppose."

"Yes," he said. "It makes it different."

She watched him dress. She said: "You can't stay?"

He sat down and started putting on his shoes. "I don't dare. Think about it. Really. Think about it."

She didn't have to think long. The longer he stayed, the more he exposed himself and the more he put their online relationship in jeopardy.

"If I stayed, I wouldn't be the same Master when I left, would I?"

"No. I suppose not."

"We live on ambiguity and shadows. Let's keep it that way."

She wondered whether he was just evading responsibility for the relationship. That would be typical.

He finished with his shoes and got his coat.

"So what happens now?" she asked.

"We go back to what we had before, if you think we can—just the computer. But this time you'll never know. You'll never know when I might come in. You think you can do that?"

She looked at him, trying to imagine going back to not knowing what he looked like, or, conversely, giving herself to this real man now, doing things for him; his eyes as he watched her...

He came over and kissed her, his hand going to her breast.

It was that kiss she thought she'd never feel, the kiss of her phantom online lover, and once again her mind rebelled. She wasn't expecting a kiss like this, so greedy and passionate, and she was stiff at first, even angry, but again he seemed to take possession of her, seemed to own her once more with his will. She felt it gathering around her. His hand tightened on her breast and his other hand took hold of her hair and bent her head back and he knelt between her legs so his knee pressed against her cum-filled pussy and he just took control of her mouth and her body as he did when they talked on the computer. It was as if he were going to devour her, but his hunger was for her, not just her flesh, and his kiss literally took her breath away so that when he released her it took her a moment to catch her breath.

Then she said: "Yes. I think I can do that."