Taken

She loved the way the air moved over her skin -- all of her skin -- every time she took a step. She was dressed, but the whole of her outfit was lace. All of her skin was breathing. A good thing as she was almost in a sweat due to her nerves and her arousal.

She had dressed as instructed. She had awoken to find her clothes laid out for her in fact. When she'd arrived at his house yesterday after so many months of correspondence and telephone conversations, her nerves had been frayed to almost nothing. Together, they had enjoyed a leisurely dinner. They'd set together in front of his roaring fireplace, which took up the whole of one massive stone wall, sipping sweet wine and talking late into the night.

She knew that this polite evening was constructed only for her benefit. After so much time spent getting to know one another, exchanging photographs and revealing secret fantasies and desires, she'd assumed that by the time they met there would be no reason to be nervous. Perhaps no reason, but even so, when she'd knocked on the heavy oak front door, she'd been terrified. When he's whisked the door open to reveal his familiar, yet still unexpected, furrowed brow and dark eyes... his imposing physique looming over her... she'd almost fainted then and there on his doorstep.

She could tell by the way his eyes pierced straight through her, by the intimate way that he leaned in to murmur in her ear... murmurs that were almost primal growls. She could tell that he was ready for her. But he waited. He waited for her to relax... for her to be able to submit completely. It was what they both craved. So tonight he granted her the illusion of safety... of civility... of restraint. But just tonight.

Restraint. She was exhausted by it. The cocoon she's constructed for herself out of all of her repressive years of propriety was now beginning to feel more like a prison than a sanctuary. She wanted to experience the total abandon and freedom of giving her body to a man, completely, without her mind constructing all of the usual roadblocks. Until now, she had always remained too much in her head, worried about her size and the impression it made on her lover. Never had she taken a moment to realize at any given moment and in the midst of any of her many relationships (that she always somehow found a reason to walk away from) that she had a lover, in large part, because of her juicy, voluptuous body.

Lovers, yes. Plenty she'd had. But satisfaction? Never. And as the realization that each new playmate was not the man of her fantasies (that she had unconsciously been seeking her entire adult life), she would shut the door on each stunned face abruptly and without hesitation. Her string of broken hearts was war torn and bloody indeed.

She inspected herself in the full length mirror. She had been prepared to hate what she saw, but the image of her ripe body encased in this scrumptious costume was itself quite stimulating. Her long lace gloves and longline lace bra that surrounded her curves down to her very short lace ruffle petticoat were a study in wanton imagery. To be clad all in white, complete with a marabou puff garter and even a mini tulle veil was meant to send the message that here stood no innocent virgin, but a scarlet strumpet waiting to be taken. Needing to be taken. Her costume blatantly stated his clear intention that here was a wanton harlot, eager to be violated.

A soft breeze heralded his arrival. Ironic, as she knew he intended to rule with an iron fist tonight.

"Face me", he said ominously.

She turned.

She shivered under his gaze. He studied her fully... openly... feasting upon her with his eyes. She knew by the look in those dark eyes that her time to acclimate had come to an end. He would have what he wanted tonight.

Her eyes traveled down to his left hand. In it he held a riding crop. In the moment that her eyes widened with the realization of what he held, he closed the space between them. Sliding a hand under her veil, he roughly grabbed a handful of her lion's mane and tilted her face up to meet his. The initial brushing of his lips against hers was surprisingly gentle, but temporary. Soon, she was crushed against him, his tongue and teeth snacking on her red, pouty lower lip.

"You've dressed to receive me," he growled into her ear.

She felt the riding crop traveling up her inner thigh and gasped, "I do as my Master commands."

He tapped against her inner thighs with the riding crop, a clear message that she should widen her stance. He slid the crop up the inside of one thigh, across her wet lacey pussy and down the inside of the other thigh, to her knee, where he tapped her smartly but innocently.

"Lie on the bed, slut," he growled. She moved swiftly, if unsteadily - terrified in her arousal. She sat, and he pushed her roughly onto her back. "Spread those legs. Hold them open, and pull that petticoat up as far as you can" he ordered. She complied, and he immediately set to a painful pussy spanking, making sure to make direct contact between the tip of the crop and the obviously hard and distended clit clearly straining against the slip of lace barely covering her leaking slit.

When she was sure she could bear it no more, he quickened the pace of the beating, hitting her swollen pussy harder. "Pull your tits out and abuse those fat nipples, bitch," he yelled as he savagely punished her quivering cunt.

She pulled the cups of her bra down, her big tits falling out into her hands. She grabbed onto her nipples, pulling, twisting and pinching them simultaneously and as hard as she could. She immediately came under her new Master's riding crop, and screamed through the most intense orgasm she'd ever experienced.

He continued the pussy spanking until she'd ridden the hardest waves of the orgasm before throwing the crop across the room and finishing her off with his open hand, enjoying the wet squelch and the flying juices with each swat.

Just as she thought she would have a moment to recover before he continued his abuse, he thundered, "Did I give you permission to cum, cunt?!"

And then he was on top of her, his fingers back in her hair, grabbing big handfuls at her scalp and tilting her face up into his. Leaning down until they were nose to nose, he murmured, "I'm going to fist your hole now. It would be in your best interest not to cum until I say so."

He moved off of her, slightly to the side, still holding her by the hair with one hand. The other hand slid down to her still stinging cunt. "Raise your hips," he said, reaching underneath her and pulling her lacey panties off and then up her raised legs, tossing them onto the floor.

Gently, surprisingly so, he rubbed her clit... soothingly, for several minutes. Her hips were now in the air, humping against the now loving hand that only moments before had beaten her so soundly. Abruptly, he slapped hard at her startlingly distended clit. She screamed. Quivering... biting her lip... he knew she was trying very hard not to cum. Little beads of sweat were shivering on her forehead. "Good girl," he whispered, kissing her deeply, obviously proud of her effort. She moaned desperately into his mouth, overwhelmed by her effort and the strong affection she felt for her new heavy-handed Master.

Sucking hard on her tongue, he slid 3 fingers into her sopping cunt, working her hole deep and making sure to spread his fingers and stretch her as much as he could before adding another finger and repeating this process and then his thumb and doing so again. With his knuckles resting against her pubic bone, he rose up to kneel between her legs. With his free hand, he pressed his thumb hard onto her clit, as though pressing a button. Maintaining this pressure, he ground relentlessly against her clit as he shook the hand inside her -- as though rattling a locked doorknob. Again her hips rose off the bed. The beads of sweat were again pronounced, and were now not only on her forehead, but had spread a full sheen across her upper body -- her tits glowing in the waning light of the room.

His fist popped inside of her hole, creating a wet sucking sound as he moved it back and forth, fucking her deeply. He moved the thumb on her clit, so that he could grab it and twist it like a nipple as he fisted her hungry hole. Her hips were still in the air, bucking desperately -- riding the fist that was invading her fuckhole.

Her moans had now turned to desperate wails, and her eyes were wide -- never leaving him. He could see that she was waiting for a signal that she could cum. He knew that she'd been ready for some time. She was obviously a wonderful slut. His slut.

Giving her clit one more savage pinch, he pulled his fingers off of her and she watched him unzip his trousers, his huge cock -- leaking precum -- lolled out, obviously eager to sink into something wet and wanton. He had yet to let up on the intensity with which he was fisting her cunt, but now he stopped. Holding his fist still inside her, he moved closer to her. He pushed her hips down on the bed and rolled her hips back, so that her fist filled cunthole now directly faced the ceiling. From this vantage point, he could look down into her asshole.

He spread her legs wider, and leaned forward, sliding two fingers into her mouth. Leaning back again, he slid them both slowly but fully into her asshole, which greedily swallowed them whole. He fingerfucked her ass roughly, jabbing his fingers deep into her with staccatoed strokes. Then, opening them, as though making a peace sign, he stretched her asshole open. He spit in it, working his fingers into her again.

He pulled his fingers out of her ass and spit into his open palm, slathering the wetness onto his cock. He positioned his mushroom head against her puckered hole. He popped his cockhead into her, moving it slightly back and forth. Then, with no warning, he rammed the entire length of his cock fully into her ass, his balls slapping her asscheeks.

He wondered if she could hear him over her screaming, but even so -- he gave his permission. As he fisted her abused cunt and rutted into her ass like an animal, he released her. Again grabbing her clit and inflicting as much pain on it as he knew she could stand, he yelled, "Cum, whore!"

She squirted, covering them both in so much cum that they and the bed beneath them were sodden. She collapsed onto the mattress, unmoving and barely conscious as he continued violating her -- following her orgasm with his own almost immediately.

Moaning like the whore she now knew she was, she enjoyed the sensation of his cum filling her ass in thick, ropey squirts. His strokes on her clit were softer and smoother now, and his fist in her cunt was now only rotating slowly instead of delivering his previous sharp, deep fucking.

He collapsed on her, his fist and cock still filling her holes, crushing her mouth against his. Softly, he stroked her hair with his free hand. "You are mine now," he whispered. "I've marked you. Do you submit?"

She wrapped her arms and legs completely around him. Tears were streaming down her face. "I am yours, Master. Please, use me as you see fit. Use my body hard for your pleasure. Please," she cried.

"Mmmm... I love my slut," he murmured as he found her lips again. Her holes were still full of her new Master, as she hoped they always would be.