Kelly's Story

I wanted to touch him. I wanted to feel his skin with my hands. I wanted to pull his face as close to my dripping pussy as he wanted, so he could eat it. I wanted to fuck him. As the stranger continued working on my pussy, I began to get angry, but not in the way you might think.

I was angry with my ex-husband.Why didn't he ever fuck me like this? There was no passion in our marriage the last several years, and I couldn't remember the last time I felt this wanted by anyone, whether they knew me or not. Suddenly, the fear I had washed away, and I spoke to the stranger again, albeit silently: "Eat me".

I wanted to come all over his face. I wanted to serve him any way he wanted. He could have untied me, and I would have still willingly obeyed his every command. I could have asked him what he wanted to do with me, and there would have been no wrong answer. I loved his tongue probing inside me, and the whipping his extraordinary tongue was giving my welcome clit. My body began writhing with ecstasy, as I wrapped my legs around his strong body. I secured him against me with ease, as he began to shake his head back and forth furiously, his tongue still locked onto my clit.

I lost control completely. I felt myself about to come. I couldn't have stopped if I wanted to, and believe me, I didn't want to. I was here to supply my new master's needs. My body felt like the 4th of July as I climaxed fiercely; appropriate enough, because I felt a bizarre kind of independence during that morning. His mouth never left my pussy, and my juices flowed all over his mask, and into his mouth. It was the most intense orgasm I had ever had, and I can say that confidently. It could even be described as violent, as my body convulsed reacting from the extreme pleasure. My body was trembling now for an entirely different reason than it was just a few minutes before, and I wanted more.

He seemed to know I wanted more, or he simply hadn't finished with me yet, as he went back to work on my sensitive clit punishing it with his tongue over and over. I could feel another orgasm nearing the surface, and I had intended it to be as fierce as the last one. It didn't take long to find out it would be. I shouted out with glee at the intense eruption taking place within my body, something I hadn't felt given to me by someone else in years.

I felt like a different person. I was a different person with this stranger. I was a woman reborn.

The stranger crawled above me and straddled me as he had before, only this time, there were no clothes in the way. His cock dangled before me, and he didn't need to tell me what to do. I happily and willingly took it in my mouth, and began to suck on it for him. He grabbed my hair firmly, reminding me that he was still in charge. I loved his hardened shaft pumping in my mouth. I was completely in awe of him at that point. He thrust himself into my face with anger and wantonness – and I loved every second of it. I never imagined myself in this situation, and I didn't want it to stop. My new master needed me to satisfy him, and I was going to.

I sucked his cock as if it was the last one on Earth, and I had earned the rights to it. Hearing his breathing above me getting faster was getting me wetter and hotter for him. He then pulled his cock out, and I reached for it with my head. He pulled it just out of my mouth's reach, and slapped me in the face with it. No man had ever done that before, and I ate it up. He knew I liked it from the grunt I produced immediately following it. He then slapped the other side of my face with his hard dick. I tried to take it back into my mouth, and he refused. "STOP," he said. It was then that I said, instinctively, "Yes, master".

I was his now. He could do to me whatever he wanted. I didn't even care if my husband walked in, and the thought of getting caught only increased the excitement I was feeling. I almost wanted to get caught. It would serve the motherfucker right. Maybe my master could give him some pointers on how to treat a woman in bed. I doubt it, though, as my master and I have been going at it for some time now, and the only time my husband had spent more than three minutes in the bedroom with me, he was sleeping.

"Open," Master said in a stern tone. I opened my mouth, ready to suck him again. He placed his cock in my mouth, and I began to suck. "NO!" he said. "Open up." I loved how he had said so little since he arrived, but so much had been exchanged between us. I obediently opened my mouth again, and he placed his cock on my tongue. He began to prod my mouth with his shaft, ordering me, "Do not suck it." He grabbed my hair again, to let me know that I had no control here. I was impatient to place my hands on him, and I struggled again to break free, but the scarves were simply too tight.

He was teasing me, getting me ready for him to fuck me. I was dying to feel him inside me, and fortunately, I didn't have to wait any longer. He moved back down my body, and held my legs in either hand. He rested my ankles against his shoulder as he grabbed his cock, and slammed it inside me all at once. I cried out with longing as he began to slam his dick in and out of me. I was butter to his hot knife, and he felt incredible inside me. I could actually feel the blood pumping through his dick as sweat began to form on his body, dripping down to mine. He held my legs in the air, and wide apart, ramming me. It was only after he entered me that I heard him grunt his approval of me. I was afraid that my master didn't like fucking me, or that I was doing something that he didn't like. Nothing else matters to me right now, other than pleasing my master. He continued pounding away inside me, and he couldn't fuck me hard enough. He finally began saying a little more than he had that morning. As he thrust inside me, he would emit an "ooh yeah" or an "oh God" here and there, then he said something that couldn't be ignored.

"Do you like being my fucktoy, Kelly?"

I'd only even heard that word once before, and it was from...

He then stopped, and climbed off of me. He moved towards his duffel bag, and produced a small bottle of lubricant. He came back to the bed, and began to spread the lubricant around my asshole. He rubbed a generous portion on it before he capped the bottle, and tossed it back to the bag. He then opened my legs again, and slowly inserted his cock into my ass. There was an intense pain/pleasure I felt as a man began to fuck me in the ass for the first time in my life, although it was more pain than pleasure. I felt filthy and sexy, all at the same time. As painful as it might have been, I dare not ask Master to stop. My breasts bounced up and down as my master continued pumping inside my ass, getting a little deeper with each thrust. He held my legs high and together, making my ass as tight as he could for him. My legs felt his strength as he held them together. I desperately wanted to play with myself while he did this, but still the binds were too tight, and it felt as if every time I pulled on them, they became tighter.

I loved hearing Master groan as he fucked my ass, and I filled the air with my own sounds of pleasure. I'd always been kind of quiet in bed, but now I understood why. No man had ever done to me what this man had done to me, physically, mentally, or emotionally. Again, he stopped suddenly, and pulled himself out. He went back to his bag, and got the lubricant again, as well as another object, which he opened immediately.

He retrieved a switchblade.

Suddenly, the fear was there again. There I was naked and alone, tied up, with a masked stranger holding a switchblade, just inches away from me. He slowly began moving toward me, looking into my eyes with the blade held upward. For the first time that morning, I began to scream with something other than passion or ecstasy, but the sound wouldn't come out. At that moment, I thought I was going to die.

He moved the blade to my wrist, and cut the first scarf loose. He crawled over me, and cut the second loose. For the first time, Master allowed my hands to be free. He closed the blade, and tossed it back over towards the duffel bag. My first reaction was to grab his head, and pull him to me. I slid my tongue inside his mouth, and kissed him ferociously. I loved everything Master was doing to me, and wanted to show him my appreciation. He took the lubricant, and began to rub it on and around my breasts. He got them nice and slick before he told me, "Up."

I sat up, and got off the bed. The air smelled of our sex as I got down on my knees before Master, and he placed his dick in between my tits. I pressed them as hard as I could against his steel rod, and he began to fuck my tits. He moved his hips back and forth, grabbing my hair again for leverage. I looked up at him dutifully, with the remainder of the scarves tied to my wrists, watching him gain pleasure from my body. I'd never wanted to please anyone so badly in my life, and couldn't wait for him to squirt his cum onto me.

It didn't take long. A few moments after he began fucking me, his voice increased in volume, and I knew he was about to come. I smashed my tits as tight against his cock as I could, and he finally exploded. He erupted all over my face, in my hair, and on my tits. He pumped until every drop was out, and I took him in my mouth, making sure that if there was any left, I could suck it out for him. As I sucked him, I played with my pussy again, performing both acts with fervor. I felt myself about to come again, and my body collapsed to the floor as it happened. I lay in the floor, covered in Master's cum, playing with my pussy and climaxing. He stood above me, watching, stroking himself gently.

The last orgasm was just as amazing as the others. I lay in the floor for a moment, writhing as the orgasmic wave ripped through my body. Master stood watching me, seemingly happy that I had come for him again. I sat up on my elbows, looking at him as he began gathering his clothes from the floor. "Don't move," he ordered me. He grabbed his things, including his duffel bag, and ran out of the room.

I lay on the floor, putting every drop of his cum into my mouth that I could. I waited for a few minutes, before I moved, and then curiosity got the best of me. I stood up, and wandered to the bedroom door. I saw and heard nothing. I walked down the stairs, past my now-ruined shirt that had been torn from my body, and began walking through the rest of my house. "Hello," I said. My voice echoed through the house. His clothing, shoes, and bag were gone. He left just as stealthily as he had entered.

My master was gone.

I went back upstairs to take a shower, and in the floor, I noticed he left something behind – the switchblade. I had no idea what to do with it, so I threw it into a catch-all drawer I have. If my ex-husband ever asks me about it, I'll tell him I got it to ward off attackers.

I sat down at my computer later that day, still tingling from the events of that morning. There is no word in the English language to tell you how he made me feel. His hands, his tongue, his cock...everything he did was perfect. I felt liberated. I felt like I had been paroled from a sentence in solitary confinement. I have no concrete proof who it was that did all these things, but it would certainly appear to have been the one man that I would have allowed to do them.

I checked my email, hoping for an email from him; nothing. I decided to send him a quick email, with the only thing I could think to say to him: "Please...don't be a stranger."