His

It had been a hot day. The sort of day where the humidity lays upon one's skin like a heavy blanket. She had spent nearly all day in the heat. The shower had been little respite. Warm damp did little to erase the exhaustion brought on by the sub-tropical temperature.

After the shower, she wandered the house like a restless zombie. Air conditioners turned to high served to evaporate some of the moisture left from her washing. It did little to ease her restlessness. If anything, the cool only served to heighten the sensitivity of her skin. It was late, she was irritable, tired and aroused. She made her way to the darkened privacy of her bedroom, hoping to indulge in fantasy.

Shimmying out of her pajama bottoms, she lay prone, face down on her bed. Camisole shirt bunched around her ribs and waist, tight, pleasurable in restriction. She let her mind wander, hips lifting in the air. Exposed. She smiled slightly at the thought. If one were to walk in on her, what would he see? A bitch in heat, ass in air, legs spread. Open. Ripe for the taking. A soft whimper at the thought. She closed her eyes, fingertips snaking between her legs. A graze of nails against slicked lips. What if? What would happen if he would walk in on her?

A sound. Bedroom door opening, softly. Pushed shut. She senses his presence in the room, smells him. He says nothing, letting the silence grow uncomfortable. Her fingers stop, like a movie on pause. A knot forms in her belly, goosebumps breaking out on her skin.

"Enjoying yourself, are you?" His voice breaks the stillness, cold.

"I..I mean, I wasn't..."

He cuts her off. "You were. Why?" Amusement, heavily laced with anger.

She starts to pull her hands from between her legs, making a move to cover herself. He stops her, moving quickly to her side. His hand gathers her wet hair, yanking her head back roughly. Stars form briefly in her vision, momentary whiplash.

"You were hoping to come. You don't own this." His other hand, the one not in her hair, reaches back to cup her cunt. He jams fingers into her, roughly, no concern for how wet she may or may not be. "This is mine." His voice is a whisper in her ear.

"I'm sorry." Stricken panic in her voice. The knot in her belly grows tighter, fear of what could happen next feeding her arousal.

He loosened his grip in her hair, yanked his fingers from her cunt as roughly as they were jammed in. She gasped, wet leaking down her splayed thighs. Left open, her muscles contracted momentarily around air. Soft fingers stroked her hair away from her forehead, gentle like a lover. Then nothing. She felt him abandon her, sensed he was still in the room. Afraid to move, she remained on her knees, her shoulders and chin against the cotton fabric of bedsheets. A rustle of clothing. She knows this sound well. The muscles in her ass tense like springs as he pulls the leather belt from his pant loops.

His voice murmurs in the dark. "You wanted to play. So play."

She feels blood rush to her face, coloring her skin hotly. So open, exposed. The skin between her legs fleshy, hot, wet. She's embarrassed. She shifts slightly, raising her bottom higher, to grant herself access to her inner folds.

"Wider. I want to see you. Like a bitch in heat, that's what you are."

Her mouth goes dry at his words. That's what she is, a bitch in heat. His bitch in heat, to do with what he will. She knows this. That doesn't stop her from wanting to cover herself, to pretend to be angelic. She feels wanton, a succubus, her need only sated by his want. She shifts again, muscles in her legs trembling as she spreads herself wider. So exposed. She feels as if he could see into her, crawl inside. She begins her show for him. The middle finger of her right hand tracing circles around her clit. A soft moan escapes her lips.

The belt swishes through the air, the slap of leather against skin. She feels as though she's drained all air from the room, her pain and pleasure sucked through her teeth as a hiss.

"You want to come. You're going to come. Hard. Do it!"

The belt licks flames of pain across her ass. Red welts raise on cheeks and inner thighs. She struggles to continue her ministrations, adding another finger to the middle one circling her clit. She drops her hand down, two fingers plunging into the wet, not caring about the sting of leather against her hand. He continues to beat her as she masturbates. Her fingers pull from inside her cunt, now flying across her clit. Fast. Hard. Rough. A torrent of wet pours from her. The belt stops. A strangled cry comes from deep inside her. So close. On edge.

She stops. He yanks her head back, pulling at her hair again. "Did I tell you to stop? You do nothing unless I give you permission."

With a muffled sob, she uses the fingers of her left hand to part her labia, opening skin folds like petals. Her right hand strokes her clit, her nails catching skin. She feels him shove something deep into her. So cold. Not his cock. Something else. Its hard force sends her over the edge, hips bucking in the orgasm her pulled from her. Her fingers stop moving.

"I didn't tell you to stop, bitch."

She fights to hold on to some semblance of composure. Her thighs and bottom a mass of red welts against white. He pulls the object from her cunt. A plug. Average in size. She feels it press against her smaller aperture. She bites her bottom lip, enough to draw blood. She knows she should relax, open herself to him fully. The touch of the plug against her ass sends her into convulsions again, her legs spreading impossibly wider. He shoves it unforgivably into her, pressure, pain exploding in her belly in orgasmic release.

The bed shifted. She knew he was on the bed. She felt him kneel behind her. She dared not move. A zipper comes undone. The sound of clothing being moved, not removed. She knew he was angry with her. He wouldn't allow her the pleasure of feeling his skin against hers. He slapped her ass, using his full force. The print of his hand would remain as a bruise for days. He pressed against her, the fabric of his clothing rough against over sensitized skin.

"What are you? Tell me, who are you, and what are you?" It wasn't a question from him. It was a demand for her to answer.

Her voice was barely a whisper. "I'm yours."

"I need you to say it louder. Tell me."

She cleared her throat, her eyes wet from spent tears. "I'm yours. I'm your whore, your slut. Your cunt, your hole to be filled. Your object. Your possession. I'm what you make me."

He placed his right hand to her throat, pulling her backwards and up against him. Pressure caused her breathing to struggle, her head to go light. He snaked his left hand around her body, mauling at her breasts. From seemingly nowhere, he produced a set of nipple clamps that he locked onto her painfully aroused nipples. He let go of her neck, shoving her harshly back down to the bed. The smell of leather filled her nostrils, the belt becoming a make-shift collar and leash around her neck.

He smacked her ass again, hard. "My cunt. I'm going to fuck my cunt."

He plunged his cock into her, filling her. Wet leaks from around the two of them. She bucks back against him, eager to have him fill her. He slaps her again. "I said I was going to fuck you. Not have you fuck me."

She stills. Her breath is shallow, her body tense, coiled, ready to spring at any moment. She would be happy to have him crawl inside her entirely, her need obliterated by his want.

He pulls at the belt, a leash guiding her into submission. The fabric of his pants chafing her skin as he pounds his cock into her. The plug filling her ass stimulating the thin membrane that separates cunt from bowels. He leaves go of the belt. Hands grab her hips, holding her tightly, pistoning himself into her. His right hand moves to her clit. Forefinger and pinky splay her slit, her clit an angry red, swollen, hard. Using his middle and ring fingers, he masturbates her roughly. She cries out, pain from being fucked so hard, pain from a slightly abraded clit. Stars form in her vision.

He squeezes her clit. "Tell me what you want. I'll let you come if you tell me what you want."

Her breathing is ragged. Sweat slicks her back, beads forming on her brow. His fingers leave her, both hands at her breasts now. He flicks at the clamps. "I need you to tell me." His cock is unmoving, hard, buried deep in her belly.

"I need.."

"Tell me what you need."

She bites her bottom lip again, drawing blood. The pain brings her mind back into focus. "I need to come. Please."

The universal word of want. Please.

He slaps at her breasts. "Beg."

A torrent of words rush from her. "Please. Please, please. Fuck me. I need you to fuck me!"

He slaps her again, still unmoving. Unmoved. He leans in against her, his breath hot against her ear.

"How? Tell me how, cunt. Tell me what you want! Tell me why you need it!"

Tears streak her face. Her skin is peppered with welts, mottled with the blush of desire. She's in agony. The slightest movement from him will send her over the edge. He lets go of her, a momentary collapse to the bed. He gathers the belt in his fist, yanking her upright. "Think fast, my bitch. Every second you waste I pull this tighter."

Blackness forms at the edge of her vision. She has to form words or pass out. "I..."

The belt pulls tighter.

Words spill from her lips, a dam breaking. "I need you to fuck me, hard." Breathless now. "I need to prove what I can take. I need to give you, to earn it. Hard, make it hurt sweet. Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me..."

He accepts her words. He leaves go the belt. She's nothing but sensation. Fingers undo the clamps at her nipples. Blood rushes back in searing, sweet pain. She cries out. He grasps her hips, pounding into her. Pummeling. The plug in her ass moves in time with his movements, cock and plug in a debauched pas de deux. He speaks words of filthy endearments to her. His fuck toy. Pounding, grinding, juice flooding out of her, his cock bathed, his pants soaked. He cries out, cock spilling his spend into her. She's forced over the edge into searing pleasure, her entire body in orgasmic bliss. She blacks out.

He pulls from her, momentarily sated. She's shoved off of his cock, her impalement the only thing keeping her from collapsing until now. She falls to the bed like a discarded toy. He pulls the plug from her, her cunt and ass gaping to be filled by him again.

She collapses to her bed, the same as her fantasy. She knows her thoughts are a pale, watercolor facsimile of his. Her mind and body spent, her eyes close. Thoughts of his dark desires bring a smile to her lips as she drifts into sleep.