Masterpiece

I enter the room where you kneel, waiting for me, soft black cloth covering your eyes, hands resting quietly in your lap, head inclined slightly as though you're channeling all of your energy into the senses remaining to you. The door snicks softly as it closes behind me, and your head jerks. The blonde cascade of your hair swings with the motion. I step aside, out of the line of your unseeing gaze, and approach you slowly, silently on the carpeted floor. You're still focusing on the door when I stand quietly beside you and softly, almost tenderly; encircle your white, exposed throat with one hand. You gasp, start, but don't move or turn your head. The pulse in your throat quickens.

Your jagged breath sings to me. God, do I love that sound, the feeling of power over your life, easily snuffed but so delicately cherished with the flick of my wrist. It is savage, my need to posses. A primitive urge tightens my grip gradually, deliberately, pressing my thumb into your windpipe. Your warm skin yields to my demand. As your breath grows hoarse and fluttery, I press down harder until you are reduced to short, shallow gasps and your head begins to loll and your body to sway. Is it because of the overpowering pleasure you feel, the complete feeling of submission, or the physical lack of oxygen... can you tell the difference or does it all blend in your mind and body?

I release you suddenly and step back, smiling at your sudden disorientation. Your hands come up in a quick involuntary gesture, one hand to your throat, encircling the place where my own was. And the other moves to your heart, as if to still its frantic beating. You remain this way, trembling noticeably now, for a long moment. I am not touching, just watching. I do not warn you before stepping forward to grab you roughly by the hair. Jerking your head to the side, I slap your face. A small cry escapes your lips-- a low murmur of pleasure, or perhaps pain? Four more deliberate slaps. You struggle to pull free. My grip tightens around your throat again and I press down hard.

"Good girl," I praise when almost immediately your body relaxes, goes limp, a soft sigh escaping you as you slump against me. I hold you there, encircling your warm body with my other arm, drawing you to me. Your naked breasts are pressed against my chest, the nipples pushing sharply on my skin. Your heartbeat is heavy and erratic. When I release you this time, you fall to your hands and knees.

I enjoy watching you, waiting. What a beautiful slut. Your face is flushed and reddened from the blows, and your throat shows rapidly darkening bruises. I marvel again that you are my possession. Amazed that you gave yourself to me, so willingly, so sweetly, and so trustingly. Each new meeting you become a tablet for me to write my most wicked desires upon. Your ass looks so appealing, shining in the darkness, a beacon of pleasure in its softness and round sensuality. You're spent, as if you'd run a race. I approach you from the back. Lightly touching your ass with the tip of my fingers. My dark skin is such an erotic contrast to your paleness.

Alternating my tongue with my fingernails, I indulge myself with the taste of your flesh. Wet kisses trail after sharp bites. I harden at your sharp gasp. My own arousal is heavy and obvious. Bite marks, as individual as a fingerprint, mar your creamy skin with sweet bruises, tattoos of my ownership of your body and heart.

Wetness trails from your cunt lips, down your thighs. My fingers hover over your cunt lips, the furnace of desire warming them. You moan louder now and push your cunt against my hand, which slides wetly, easily into your cunt. Your ass opens spasmodically. You are hungry for me. I lean forward, my breath hot in your ear and I whisper, drawing the words out, "Don't... fucking... move... cunt, little whore, keep that pretty little ass still..." and I press the hardness of my cock, softly at first, then with increasing pressure, against your warm wet openness of your anus. Your body stiffens with the awareness of what's happening and then begins to tremble uncontrollably. I love to watch the dimple low on your back as you arch and writhe.

My eager little slave tries so hard to accommodate Master's hungry pole. I can smell the heat of your desire, and I want to bite you, slap you, pinch and bruise you as I slide into your ass until my balls brush your cheeks. Deliberately, I push against your older bruises, pain mingling with pleasure, desire burning like a nova. Now I have erased everything for you, except the desire to be fucked hard, and fast. Instinct drives your hips. A supplicant's offering, you respond to the primordial need to be possessed by my hard probing cock. Twining my other hand again in your hair, I bring your head around, twisting it backwards toward me. Your cheeks are wet, your white trembling lip held tight between your teeth. Your beauty, like this, is almost unbearable.

I thrust my cock inside you, again and again. Your tight ass grips and pulls at my shaft. Digging my hand into your hips, my other hand pulls at your hair. You whine, an animal sound, and your body jerks spasmodically, uncontrollably. The whining turns into a scream as you cum hard against my cock, triggering my own orgasm, my cock pulsing impossibly hard and long in your ass, my hot cum burning you.