Amazon Mistress: Fuck Me!

As he hid in his head, he felt a detached sense that her torment would go on forever...she would never be satisfied...she would continue to pound him until he truly was nothing...

Suddenly she went rigid, pressed herself hard into the dildo, and released the kiss. Her left arm snuck under his ribcage while her right arm reached over his shoulder. She rocked back and bent him at the waist pulling him up into a crushing hug while her pelvis jammed down with ever increasing pressure in a single climactic thrust. His head mashed into her left tit as she compacted his body. His air escaped his lungs, he thought she might tear him in half as her upper body squeezed in place and her lower body pushed down and away. The small conscious part of him flashed a realization that this was finally her full strength, raw unadulterated power as she let her orgasm take complete control of her muscles. She seemed superhuman. He hurt everywhere, his muscles no longer responded, everything was trapped in her grasp. His skin was cold and clammy against her hot, sweaty athletic body. His face mashed so hard into her breast that he couldn't see and couldn't find air, even if his lungs would have been able to expand. He briefly grasped the irony that her life-giving mammary would soon extinguish his life force. Then dread overtook him, followed soon thereafter by a deep sense of peace. Resignation.

The moment before he passed out, she released her grasp and he fell to the bed coughing and gasping. Through his tears he watched her tip up her head up and let out an animal scream, like a male lion roaring over its kill, her long red mane flowing side to side as she turned her head. He stared in awe and terror through his tears as he tried to suck in a breath through his mouth while fighting back sobs. Her roar subsided and she brought her head back to look down at him struggling to breathe. With a flash of satisfaction, she leaned in and began licking his face, lapping up his salty tears. He had to close his eyes to avoid her tongue as she covered his face in her saliva. Once she had licked his face clean, she lithely lifted herself off the dildo, and spun off the bed to the bathroom, closing the door. He sobbed quietly and convulsed on the bed, he had somehow become numb to the physical pain but he felt deep anguish, loathing, and a new sense of resignation - not that he would die, but that he had to keep on living in complete and utter disgrace.

He turned to his side and pulled his legs into the fetal position. He suddenly felt very cold and shivered uncontrollably. He could hear his own body parts shaking alongside the loud sound of her pissing in the bathroom. It was a fast stream like a man but thicker, stronger and more urgent. He heard the toilet flush and the door reopened. He saw her coming toward him and he panicked, flailing his arms and legs, trying to back away like a cornered animal. His eyes were wide, he was terrified that she had come back for more.

He looked at her face expecting the lion and all he saw was kindness and pity. The confusion snapped him back to reality and he suddenly felt ill, a distinct metallic taste filled his mouth. He instinctually jumped up and ran past her to the toilet, bent over and threw up his dinner from hours before, tasting of acid and bile. She knelt next to him and stroked his hair tenderly as he retched over and over until he was dry heaving. She flushed the toilet and helped him by the arm until he was in the bathtub. She gently removed the dildo and harness, then pulled down the removable shower head and turned it on. The water was cold at first, shocking him so he cowered in the back of the tub, on his feet but curled up in a crouch. As the water warmed, she began to lather his body then his hair, turning him around and rinsing him, he felt the water wrap around him and for a moment he felt he could hide in it. He felt so dirty and the water made him feel clean.

She shut off the stream and he shivered as he lost his security blanket. She helped him out of the tub and dried him softly, then helped him rinse his mouth. She walked him to the toilet, holding him up from behind and prodded him to urinate. He hadn't noticed the pressure before, but he had to go badly and he felt a small inkling of pleasure in the act. It sounded like a soft tinkle compared to her deluge moments before.

She rinsed his hands and walked him to the bed where she lay him down on his back with his head on a pillow. She stroked his hair. In his detachment he barely noticed that her powerful movements had become sensitive touches, deep with empathy and understanding for the trauma he had experienced. He lay on his back staring straight ahead at the ceiling, catatonic. His mind was blank. All of the emotions of the last hour had left him and now he felt distant. Bleak. Hopeless. Alone.

She walked back to the bathroom. In the distance he heard a shower running, then silence. She appeared out of the corner of his eye wearing a white hotel bathrobe, her hair in a ponytail exposing the subtle curves of her neck. This time he didn't feel fear, only emptiness as he stared ahead. He felt her sit next to him and lean back against the padded headboard. She spoke for the first time since she had raped him. Her voice was even and measured, with a soft and sympathetic tone.

"You're in a form of shock right now. Your physical state will improve in a few minutes as your body self regulates," she explained. "That said, I would be lying if I told you things will return to normal. You'll remember the last hour for the rest of your life. It will surface every time a woman crawls on top of you and every time you think of me. But also at unexpected times. At first, every time you think of it your stomach will drop, you'll feel a sudden paralysis and a range of emotions will wash over you - dread, guilt, shame, anger...hatred. Over time, though, you'll realize what a true gift I've given you."

She paused and stroked his hair.

"Ever since we met, I told you that you could never satisfy a woman like me. Now you know for certain you cannot," she stated, enunciating 'cannot' slowly and deliberately. "Inferiority comes in many forms, but all forms lead ultimately to submission. The desire to submit runs through your soul, I can see it every time we meet. I understand how confusing it is, how ironic that a person of your stature and achievement can want the exact opposite: To give up all control to another person, to a woman like me. To have her take all control from you and reduce you to your essence. To soften your clay and return you to the small impressionable boy you once were, to remold you into the man you truly want to be. To want to be Mine. To need to be Mine."

He listened, hearing what she said but not comprehending it as his mind continued blank. He felt her reach over and lay her hand on his shoulder. He shuddered at first but her soft, sensual touch gave him comfort. It was no longer the same hand that pinned his chest to the bed a few minutes before. She wrapped her arm around him and pulled him closer to lay his head on her lap. She looked down and smiled warmly, her hand stroking his hair. He looked up tentatively. Laying in the lap of his erstwhile tormentor somehow felt good and restored his spirits. He no longer felt empty - just uncertain.

While her right hand stroked his hair, her left moved to her robe and slowly pulled it open revealing her left breast next to his face. While not large for her frame, it was nonetheless full and shapely. It had easily filled his weak hands, and then some, earlier. It sat perfectly on her chest with no sag, nearly symmetrical in profile top to bottom, only slightly favoring the downward side. She smelled fresh and moist, a faint hint of the bath bar she had just used. Her skin was creamy, nearly as light as the white robe. In contrast, her areola was dark, crimson, yet smooth and shiny, with the leading edge reflecting light from the room. He remembered how hard her tits had felt in his hands, but this breast looked soft, warm and inviting. Her nipple stood fully erect, still relatively small given she had never given birth, but small for her was relative. It was easily the diameter of a dime.

He stared at her nipple, continuing to feel uncertain. He had a flash of his face being mashed into this same tit, a brief sense of dread returned as he remembered it almost suffocating him. Then he felt the contrasting softness of her touch on his hair. Her left arm lowered and curled around his head, coddling him and drawing him closer to her breast. His lips were an inch away from her engorged nipple. As he breathed on it he saw small bumps form on her areola. Her pleasure. His mind filled with images of peace and he suddenly felt relaxed for the first time that night. He closed his eyes and instinctively moved his head forward and took the nub in his mouth. He held it there for a moment and then began to suckle. Like a dam bursting in his head, he instantly understood everything she had just said. He needed Her. She had brutally shown him how vulnerable he was and now he understood completely that it was out of her sympathy for him. Her power to destroy was also her power to protect. He felt truly safe at her bosom, like the sense of security a baby feels swaddled in its mother's arms. He trusted her with his life. He was Hers.

Her left arm pulled him closer, while her right hand stroked his cheek. She looked at him with complete adoration. His eyes remained closed. Slowly she opened her robe, revealing her nude body. She spread her legs and bent her knees so the soles of her feet touched, forming a diamond-shaped nest. Then she reached her right arm under his side and pulled his body over her right leg so he could curl up between her legs on his side. His lips remained locked on her breast, his eyes still shut. She pulled the left side of the large hotel robe up and enveloped him in the terry cloth.

A new sense of warmth added to his security. He felt surrounded by her legs, robe and breast, like he had returned to the womb. Her womb.

"You needed this little one," she declared knowingly. "Now your journey truly begins."

He felt a hand touch his cock. He hadn't noticed that it was completely engorged, straining in its skin. Elation joined security and warmth in a cacophony of emotions. She stroked him very slowly, almost imperceptibly at first, then just enough to generate light friction. He suckled her nipple harder, as if in desperate need of nourishment, and he began to cum. Not an intense burst of orgasm like he usually experienced with her, but a slow, steady state of euphoria. He ejaculated in her hand and on her leg in a constant, flowing tantric stream that continued longer than he can ever remember cumming before. He felt his liquid flow, reveling in it, understanding it was only possible with Her, that she had destroyed him and now she was re-creating him, only a better him. Her him.

His whole body trembled as the semen poured out and she held him tighter as he continued to suck on her. He had found a perfect place and he never wanted to leave it. He no longer felt shame or guilt for being taken, only a deep sense of devotion and necessity. She was essential to his being. Images of Her appeared on his closed eyelids, he could taste her distinctive body musk in his mouth as he sucked. All his senses were imprinted with her essence. He knew he was being reborn, Hers.

As the last drops of cum exited his body, he was overwhelmed with a sense of tranquility, like he was floating. She held him close and rocked him gently as he fell asleep, still attached to her bosom.