Giving Up Control

You were reluctant to meet me at first. You are an accomplished woman with a highly respected position. You are used to being in control and taking responsibility. You are good at it, and others admire you for it. But...there is a part of you that craves something different. There is a part of you that craves Domination. "Domination": even whispering the word to yourself makes you squirm in your seat with desire. So eventually you give in.

We meet in a hotel room and I don't waste any time taking control. I sit down in a chair and make myself comfortable before I order you to take off your clothes as I watch. You're embarrassed to strip in front of me, but when you hesitate, I bark, "Do it!" and you know you'd better start obeying quickly.

I look at your appreciatively once you are naked, but you are surprised when I tell you to sit down in the chair in front of the desk. You notice that I've placed a hotel towel on the seat, and you realize that this is a good precaution, given how much the cream is already flowing from between your legs. I instruct you to look down at the desk and start masturbating. Soon your fingers are covered in cream. I put my resume in front of you and order you to read it while you touch yourself. Still looking down at the desk, you angrily frown at what an arrogant asshole I'm being, but you realize that my outrageous behavior is intimidating you, and turning you on even more.

When you finish, I tell you to kneel in front of me. When you turn around, you see that I have taken my own clothes off while you were reading. Once you are kneeling, my hard cock is pointing invitingly at your face, and you instinctively lean forward to take it in your mouth. However, I push your head back slowly but firmly with two finger, like I was disciplining a dog that was reaching for a treat without permission. You look up at me, as you continue to finger yourself, waiting for directions. I smugly ask, "Are you lucky to be fucking me?"

Deep in your guts, you feel an indescribably mix of resentment, lust, and intimidation, but you just reply, "Yes."

"Yes what?"

"Yes, I'm lucky to be fucking you." I keep staring at you. You add, "Sir."

My smile is even more insufferable now, as I command, "Rub your tits on my cock."

Feeling my hard shaft on your big, beautiful tits is very arousing, but you're aching to suck me, so it's torture that you can only touch me this way. You enthusiastically rub and squeeze and caress my cock and balls with your tits. You pinch your right nipple and use it to stimulate the slit of my cock, and are rewarded with some slick pre-cum.

You blurt out, "May I lick it off my nipple, sir?"

My lip curls in disdain: "You're such a fucking whore."

You nod: "I am, sir. I'm your whore. I'm your whore completely and absolutely."

I nod my permission, and you seductively lick my pre-cum off your nipple while you look up at me longingly. Your seduction gets the effect you wanted: I grab your hair and force your head down on my cock. I push it all the way to the back of your throat until you choke, but then I give you a moment to freely suck and stroke my cock. I groan in appreciation. My hips start to buck as my passion builds, and suddenly I grab your hair forcefully and start to face-fuck you brutally. Spit runs down your chin onto your chest as you gag. I hold your head down on my cock longer and longer, and you start to panic a little because you're not getting enough air.

"Hold my cock down your throat, you fucking bitch!" I growl.

You're crying now, with a combination of fear, humiliation, and arousal. You desperately want me to cum in your throat, both because you need my cum, and because you need to breathe. Suddenly I pull out and stop, holding your head by your hair, a few inches away from my cock. You gasp a few breathes, then look up at me.

I growl, "You didn't make me cum. You fucking failure."

You shake your head and try to hold back the tears: "No, keep going. I'm sorry. I'll do it better. Do it harder to me. Do whatever you want. I'll please you."

I do not seem placated as I order, "Get on your back on the bed."

You hurriedly comply. Spreading your legs, you hope I'm going to mount you. Instead, I quickly put three fingers inside your cunt. They slide in easily, so I put in four and, after a few thrusts, put the tips of all four fingers and my thumb inside you. As I begin to push them in deeper, I say, "I'm going to fist you. And it's going to hurt. You can ask me to stop at any time and I will. But if you ask me to stop, you'll have failed me. Then I'll just get dressed and leave you here. However, if you take all the pain I give you, you'll please me and have passed this test."

You say, "Yes, sir," and brace yourself for what is about to come.

I push my hand into your creamy cunt slowly at first. You feel your pussy stretch and the pain builds gradually. Eventually, though, you have stretched to what feels like your normal limit. I don't stop, but keep working more and more of my hand into you. You whimper and your skin grows moist as you let the pain go through your body. I reach up with my free hand and pinch your nipple. "You have such big tits, and such a hungry cunt," I observe. "These are the tits and the cunt of a whore."

"Yes, sir," you whimper.

I pinch your nipple with a vicelike grip. It burns with pain, but you want it to hurt even more. Somehow pinching your nipple takes some of the pain away from your cunt, which leaves you feeling strangely abandoned there. Soon, though, I am pinching your nipple and fisting your cunt so hard at the same time that you are almost overwhelmed with the pain from both sides of your torso. You cry, because you don't want to fail me again, but you're not sure you can take the pain. Just when you think it's more than you can handle, you feel me gradually ease my hand out of your cunt, and the pain subsides.

My voice is suddenly gentle. "You were a good girl. You took the pain, didn't you?" I bring my hand to your mouth and you lick the cream off, like a hungry little kitten. Your tears turn to tears of happiness, because you know you've passed this test. "That's it," I reassure you as you lick, "that's my good little slut."

You're hoping that I'll finally fuck you and allow you to cum, but once you've licked my hand nice and clean, I order you to get up on all fours on the table. You feel embarrassed and exposed, but you know better than to question me. I start to walk around you, inspecting you and feeling you up, as if you were some animal I was thinking about purchasing. When I'm behind you, I put my hands between your legs and comment on how wet and open your pussy lips are. Then I spread your ass cheeks and remark that your tight little anus looks like it's hungry for cock too. I spit on it for good measure.

I come around to your front and order you to put your left arm behind your back. You have to support your front with just your right arm, which is awkward, but of course you obey immediately. I grab your hair in my left hand and twist your head up toward me. I caress your cheek, which is still covered in spit and pussy cream. I sound surprisingly tender as I remark, "You look like such a filthy little whore."

"Whatever you want me to be, sir," you whimper.

I smile but with my lip curled in disdain. Then I suddenly smack your tits with my free hand. You yelp in surprise and pain, which makes me tighten my grip on your hair and hiss, "Be quiet, slut!"

"Yes sir," you whisper submissively.

I smack your tits again...and again...and again...and again. I stop briefly to squeeeeeeze them, first one, then the other. I'm so rough, so demanding, so hungry for them. I pinch your nipples and pull down on them, seeing how much I can stretch them. You know better than to move a muscle: you just hold your position and take what I give you. I go back to slapping your tits: smack, smack, smack, SMACK! Each blow seems harder than the last, and you are starting to feel dizzy.

I pull you off the table by your hair, and you can barely keep from falling. "You fucking bitch! That hardly hurt you at all. Are you TRYING to piss me off?"

You are tempted to object that it actually hurt a lot, but instead you just say, "I'm sorry, sir."

"Stand up straight, with your hands behind your head," I order. "And keep your eyes closed."

You comply and wait anxiously for whatever I'm planning next. You hear me getting something out of my bag. You lick your lips anxiously in anticipation. Suddenly, you hear something cutting through the air rapidly, then feel the intense bite of a rattan cane hitting your tits. You shout in pain, and immediately regret it, because you know it will only lead to more punishment.

"Did I SAY that you were supposed to cry out?" I ask.

"No sir," you whisper.

My voice becomes more gentle, "Fortunately for you, that pleased me. You may express the pain you are feeling, as long as you aren't too loud about it. Now, keep your eyes closed, and arch your back more. I want your tits out there where I can reach them easily."

You arch your back as far as you can. It's awkward, but you don't think about that much because you are focused on anticipating the pain that will come. You instinctively know that you must not flinch away from the pain, and you steel yourself to stay in position. You hear the hiss of the cane cutting the air, and then the intense pain when it contacts your tits. With the first blow, you yelp like a puppy whose tail has been stepped on, but the blows start to come faster and it's too overwhelming to even make a sound. Sometimes the cane swats the top of your tits, sometimes your areolas. Just when the blows have become an indistinct blur, I surprise you with a blow on your ass that makes you cry out again, as much in surprise as in pain.

Then there is a pause. You are panting, and the sweat running down your tits burns the welts that the cane has made. You hear me reaching into my bag for something else, and you whimper a little in anticipation of what might be worse than the cane. I order, "Open your eyes." You see the camera in my hand. You gulp in humiliation. You've posed for sensual photos before, and even sent some of your own from your phone, but that was on your own terms, and in those photos you were never as "broken" as you are now.

I can read your thoughts: "Are you humiliated and afraid?"

"Yes sir."

"You deserve to be humiliated. You are willful and a brat. And you seduced me by being so desirable. So you must be punished." I start to take pictures of you as I continue my lecture. "I'll use these photos to pleasure myself when you are not around. And when I'm hanging out somewhere like a casino I might just show a photo to some strange guy, inviting him to look at 'this filthy slut I banged.' "

You feel queasy at the thought of some strange man looking at one of these photos of you. But you also realize that your pussy throbs even more insistently as you imagine it.

I command you to bend over with your hands touching the floor and your ass in the air, then continue to simultaneously photograph and instruct you: "However, I am a kind and generous Master. I will always protect you, and I won't let anyone else get a copy of one of these photographs. Well, at least not one in which they can see your face."

Tears run down your face as you see the flash of the camera while I photograph you from behind. You realize how exposed and open you must be, and how utterly degrading this pose is. Just when you think it can't get worse, I reach with one hand and hold your ass cheeks open, and take a few more photos.

"Good, good. There is just one more shot I wanted. Turn around and squat, with your knees bent at ninety degree angles." When you are in position, I hand you a soda bottle. "Now fuck yourself with it." Your face is crimson with shame. I do some close up shots of your cunt with the bottle inside you, and you are silently thankful that at least your face won't be in the photos. But then I back up for some wider shots, so that your complete degradation is visible. Tears run down your face, but you see that makes me smile and take more photos.

"Okay, that game is over," I announce. I put the bottle and the camera to one side and order you to kneel in front of the bed. You think maybe I'm going to face-fuck you again, but I surprise you by going to the bathroom and returning with a glass of water and a warm, moist washcloth. I gently wipe the tears, spit, and pussy cream off your face. I even hold your nose like a child and order you to "blow." Once you are cleaned up and can breathe easily again, I let you drink the water. You hadn't realized how thirsty you were, and you gulp it down quickly. I smile affectionately: "Good girl." You now notice that I have also brought a tube of skin lotion. It's not the cheap stuff the hotel provides, but something nice that I obviously bought especially for you. I gently rub it into the welts on your tits. You suck in air at the first touch because of how tender your tits are, but the lotion is cool and soothing. After your tits are coated, I rub them a bit longer, just because I like touching them, then stop and look down at you appreciatively. My face is gentle and you feel so close to me at this point.

I announce: "Now, we are going to talk for a little while. There is only one rule. We must tell the absolute truth."

This situation is almost surreal. You are on your knees naked, in front of a man whose hard cock is pointing directly at your face, and he wants to have a conversation. However, at the mention of the word "truth," you somehow wish I would just keep hitting you. But you obediently look up at me and nod.

I begin: "Do I intimidate you? I mean, besides making you feel physical fear."

"Yes."

"Why?"

"I'm used to feeling like I'm smarter than anyone else in the room. I don't feel like that when I'm with you."

"Does that make you afraid?"

"Yes." You pause for just a moment and take a deep breath before continuing: "I'm afraid that I'll say or do something and you'll think I'm not good enough for you." You suddenly feel as if you are about to cry.

I lean down and gently cup your cheek: "Listen to me. We are both telling the truth here. And the truth is that I find you very impressive. You ARE very smart, and that turns me on." I kiss you, very gently and slowly. When we break our kiss, I look you in the eyes and say, "I know I'm not perfect, and I'm sure you're not either. Would you suddenly not be attracted to me if, I don't know, I misspelled a word, or couldn't remember the capital of Norway?"

You smile. "No, of course not."

"Well, that's the same way I feel about you."

You feel like a little girl as you whisper, "Thank you."

I continue: "What else are you afraid of?"

You hesitate, "I--nothing else I can think of."

I frown. "It disappoints me when you lie."

"I'm sorry! It's just hard."

"Say it."

"I'm afraid you won't like my body. You spend all day with lithe coworkers with young, perky bodies."

I smile again. "Look at my cock. Is it hard?"

"Yes."

"Why do you think that is?"

"Because you want me?"

"Yes." I smile knowingly, then add, "But you wonder whether I am so passionate that I would be hard for just any woman."

You look down and nod quickly.

I put my hand under your chin and turn your face up to me. My voice sounds wistful as I say, "Your eyes are so damn beautiful. So expressive. They can be sexual and predatory, or kind and nurturing, or shy and uncertain." I reach down with both hands and cup your breasts. "I love your tits so much. So big. So feminine. I'm turned on by everything about your body. I love to run my hands over your curves, and spank your luscious ass. Do you think I want some scrawny girl when I could have a beautiful woman like you?"

You see the desire in my eyes, and it makes your heart pound. With your eyelids half closed, as if in a dream, you whisper: "Please take me again. Show me how much you want me by using me. Hurting me. Pushing my boundaries. Humiliating me. Make me into your personal whore."

I lift you up gently by your hand and pull you on top of me as I lie down on the bed. Grasping your hips I maneuver you over my face and start to hungrily lick at your creamy slit. The pain and domination has left you painfully aroused, so now that I am finally giving your cunt and clit some gentle attention, the pleasure is almost indescribable. My lips and tongue are skilled as I lick your pussy lips, tongue-fuck your hole, and rapidly but gently flick your clit. I obviously love eating your pussy. You let out a long, deep moan of appreciation. Once you are in place, I reach up and start to play with your tits while I lick: I squeeze them, pinch them, pull on your nipples. Then I start to slap them and you instinctively arch your back to give me a better angle to hit you. You've been teased for so long that you can already feel an orgasm building inside you. I sense it and stop licking just long enough to order, "Do NOT cum without permission."

"Yes sir," you whimper. You can tell that I am working especially hard to please you, so you find it agonizing to hold back from cumming. Finally, you moan, "Please! I don't know if I can hold back any more!"

I suddenly stop licking you and order, "Get on your back on the floor." That was not what you were hoping to hear from me, but you obey. We're in a nice hotel, but you think about how many people have walked on this carpet before. Again, I can read your mind: "I know. It's filthy to fuck on a hotel carpet. But do you think you deserve anything better?"

"No sir," you reply, and look up at me with your legs spread wide.

I mount you and we start to fuck. I kiss you passionately, and it seems amazingly intimate after the brutal things I have done to you. Our tongues caress one another, searching, exploring, finding what pleases. I look into your eyes. You try to look away, but I grab your face and hold it so that you have to look at me while I fuck you. You feel so overwhelmed that you start to cry.

I smile: "It's easier when I'm mean to you, isn't it?"

You can only nod.

You gasp as I suddenly pull out of you. The empty feeling only last a moment, as I shove my right hand into your cunt, twisting it to cover it with your cream. Then I shove my cock back in, and grab your hair with my left hand to pin your head down. I take my right hand and shove it down your throat. You immediately gag on it. You see me smile with pleasure: "Your cunt seizes up on my cock when you gag," I explain. I shove my hand down your throat again. You're so humiliated to be forced to gag while I look down at you and fuck you. I know your thoughts -- don't I always? -- and I take my hand out of your mouth just long enough to ask, "Does it make any difference whether you like this?"

You cry as you say, "No. All that matters is that YOU feel good, sir."

You know that is the correct response, but it seems to only make me more angry: "You filthy whore! You're so dirty for giving me whatever I want." Again, my hand gags you and your cunt grabs my cock.

You're actually relieved when I wipe my hand off against your face and order you to get on all fours. I shove your head down onto the carpet with your ass in the air, and order you to spread your ass cheeks for me. The position is uncomfortable and humiliating, and it makes your pussy ache with desire to hold it for me. I coat my hand in cream from your cunt again and rub it against the tight bud of your ass. Then I spit on it for good measure. "I'm really looking forward to fucking your ass. I don't get to do this very often," I explain, "because I wouldn't do this to a woman with any self-respect."

You cry, but you are twitching with the desire for me to fuck your ass. I bring the cap of my cock to your anus and slowly push it in. "Fuck, that feels good," I moan. "It went in easier than I expected it to. You must be a real anal-whore." As I start to fuck you, I grab your wrists and hold them behind your back. It's uncomfortable, and it means that your tits and face are being pushed into the carpet with every thrust. I fuck your ass slowly at first, every now and then groaning things like, "you fucking cunt....dirty bitch...nasty pain slut...ass-whore...." You feel so full of cock, and your passion is building to a peak again, but this time I announce, "You have permission to cum." It doesn't take long after that: with rug burns on your tits, your face pushed into a filthy hotel carpet, your arms pulled painfully tight behind your back, your open pussy lips dripping cream down your thighs, and a brutal man pounding your ass and calling you names, you feel your ass and pussy spasm as the orgasm rips through you.