Last Night, First Time

I released my grip on my toy's hair, settling back onto the couch beside her, running my eyes over her nude, collared, panting body as she sagged against the cushions. Almost without realizing it, my hand reached back to stroke her soft, golden skin, caressing the small breasts I had just been torturing, and stroking the thick black hair I had just been pulling, smiling in pleasure as her body reacted, leaning into my touch. Even after hours of play, I never wanted to stop touching her—both for the simple pleasure we both took from these quieter moments, and also to reinforce her status as a possession and toy to be fondled at my pleasure.

We've known each other for years, first meeting and playing on internet talkers, where we discovered her deep-seated need to surrender control fit nicely into my desire to dominate. I still remember the sounds of her panting at the other end of the phone line as she followed orders and fucked herself with whatever she could find as a makeshift dildo. She was in college, I had been out for a few years, and we both had a lot going on in the "real world," but we found time to explore these fantasies as much as possible before we drifted apart. We would reconnect online a couple times over the following years—enough to know she'd gotten married to a nice, vanilla man—enough to know that her desire to submit was, if anything, stronger than ever.

Then, around a year ago, she told me that she and her husband were moving to my city—and suddenly new possibilities presented themselves. We met up when she flew in ahead to look at apartments, and within minutes my fist was wrapped in her hair, and my fingers were buried in her sopping wet pussy. I collared her soon after, and we made a practice of meeting up every month or two, whenever her husband flew out of town on business, so we could address her need to submit, and indulge our complementary fantasies of control. In deference to her relationship we had a couple simple rules—no marks, and no sex. In exchange I could do pretty much anything else I wanted to her eager, desperate body—and it turned out power was, indeed, its own reward, and I looked forward to every session where she would strip and kneel, submitting both to my whims and the various toys I picked up.

But all good things come to an end, and after a year of play, she let me know that she and her husband were moving away—his job wasn't working out and they'd both found other career opportunities out of state, giving her and I only one more opportunity to meet up. Unfortunately, our usual hotel was booked up, but before I could work out another solution, she invited me to their apartment. When I arrived she just made two requests before her collar went on: that we would do nothing in their bedroom, and that I wouldn't listen when she said "no."

We spent the following hours revisiting every bit of training and use she'd received over the last year, which was how she wound up being bent over and flogged over her dining room table; bound to her guest bed with her holes filled with toys or fingers; and calling up one of her online gaming friends so he could hear her beg for me to stop, while I asked him what I should do to her next—in the process deliberately revealing to him several of her triggers so she would be vulnerable to his desires if they ever met up. When I used two toys to simulate us fucking her ass and pussy at the same time, I had to shove her face into the pillow so her screams of helpless pleasure didn't bring her neighbors to the door.

Afterwards she made soup, and the two of us pretended to watch some TV while eating on the sofa, her sitting in just her collar, but immediately yielding when I wrapped my hand in her hair, arching her body as I mauled her breasts and tested her pussy, calling her names when I found she was still wet and ready for more, just like always—my toy was an insatiable slut, which was always part of the fun.

But finally it was getting late and we both had to work the next day—it was time to go. However, as I began to gather my things, she remarked that it was late and my place was a fair distance away—did I want to stay the night in the guest room? I told her I hadn't brought anything but toys—no toothbrush, no change of clothes—and I was sweaty from using her all evening and needed a shower. Before I realized it she'd gone and come back with a toothbrush and towel, and looked up at me with inquisitive eyes.

And I remembered how she had invited me into her home, rather than risk not having one more session. And I saw how she was making an effort to get me to stay. And I realized that the only person who was trying to end the night was me—and was I really that tired?

With a smile, I took the towel and toothbrush, and said, "Thank you, pet—I think I will take you up on that offer. Why don't you start the shower for me?"

She looked uncertain at that request but nodded, and walked away while I watched every movement her naked body made until she had left the room. A moment later, after I heard the click of a light switch and the water start, I began gathering some supplies.

First I went to my toy bag, which was mostly empty after several hours of enthusiastic play, to retrieve the one item I had always brought but never used. Then I went to the kitchen counter, where we'd placed all the cleaned toys that we'd used (by this point I had acquired quite a collection of dildos, plugs, and gags)—over time, rinsing off everything that had been inside her became part of our "cooldown" ritual after our sessions.

I entered the bathroom with a bundle in my arms, to find her standing by the running shower. "I don't know how hot you like it—you can change it once you get inside—ah!" Her words were interrupted as I wrapped her hand in her hair, arching her body, my other hand reaching for her breasts in a practiced motion, cupping her soft curves and tweaking the hardened nipples. I slid my hand up her body—and undid her collar. She looked at me in confusion, and then struggled as I lowered my face and licked her cheek, my hand tightening in her hair as she struggled. This was a newer game—she'd once confessed that she wanted to know what it was like to have to accept having her face licked, and earlier experiments had shown it provoked a strong reaction—and increased her arousal.

I held her in place, my other hand moving back to her breast as my mouth licked her cheek, her jaw, the corner of her lips, before I growled, "Open, slut." Whimpering, writhing, she resisted for a moment until I twisted her nipple, and then her lips briefly parted. She moaned as my tongue flicked across them, before pushing inside for a violating kiss as my hands tightened, keeping her still. This wasn't our usual style of play—the only thing I usually put in her mouth was a dildo or gag. But it turned out it was an amazing way to highlight her powerlessness.

Plus, it was something I'd wanted to do for awhile—sue me, I like kissing, especially when it provokes such a strong reaction.

I held her in place and thoroughly probed her mouth as she whimpered and half-sobbed, trying to break contact every few seconds but feeling my hand in her hair holding her still—that sense helplessness, I suspected, was at least half the reason she ever struggled in the first place. Finally I pulled back and pushed her towards the running shower. "Get in, toy," I ordered, and started unbuttoning my shirt.

She looked nervous, her gaze darting to the exit. "I don't...I wasn't offering to shower with you. I know you're tired—I'll get the bed ready while you clean up."

I shook my head, my shirt half unbuttoned, and grabbed her hair again, pulling her to me and murmuring, "It's amazing how often you think I'm giving you a choice, slut." This time my hand on her breast was cruel, finding and twisting her nipple before slapping it once, twice, a third time, savoring her cries before demanding, "What are you?"

Her training kicked in, and she whispered, "I'm a slut."

"And what do sluts get?"

"...They get used." Her eyes were enormous, and she was panting as she gave the correct answer, a pattern we had been using since we first started exploring our mutual desires years ago.

I nodded, and released her. "Get in the shower, slut."

She nodded and whimpered, "Yes sir," and stepped inside, closing her eyes as the water hit her, clearly trying to process what was happening.

I didn't want her to process, however—I wanted her to submit.

I quickly stripped and stepped into the shower behind her. She was rinsing herself off, her hands in her hair, trying to act normal. Her breath caught when I placed my hands on her hips and pulled her back against me, my cock hardening as it rubbed against her bare ass. I chuckled quietly as her arms self consciously came up to cover her chest, even as her hips twitched, rubbing herself against me in what I was pretty sure was an unconscious move. She gasped as I leaned forward, and started to struggle, then stopped as she realized I was attaching something to the shower wall. My hands returned to her body, roaming over her wet skin, taking her wrists and slowly pulling them down, exposing her body as I slowly rubbed against her from behind, telling her, "It's much too late to cover up, toy."

"Please..." she whispered, almost inaudible under the sound of water—reminding me of the first time she'd submitted to me in person a year ago, in temporary housing, sprawled against me on the sofa, her wrists in one of my hands, her t-shirt and sports bra pulled up, exposing her breasts, her jeans open and pushed down, my other hand rubbing against her panties-pinned and unable to do anything about what was coming. She had said "Please..." then as well, in a way that she could pretend meant she wanted me to stop, but fooling neither of us—when my fingers finally slid into her pussy I found out how soaked she was, and after that she knew I would never believe her if she told me she didn't want to submit and be filled.

Now, I gathered her wrists in one hand, leaving my other to run down her body. I already knew her pussy was soaked, but I still enjoyed the feeling of her pressing back against me, trying to avoid my fingers as they approached her entrance, where the lie of her reluctance would be revealed as always. I paused my descent, and splayed my hand across her belly, making little circles, feeling her twist and struggle in my grip, winding up grinding against my cock before jerking away, which just pushed back into her into my hand—trapped. Her breathing quickened as my hand finally continued its descent, until my fingers reached their destination, dipping down and teasing her clit. Even with all the water getting in the way, I knew her pussy was dripping, and that she ached to be filled, despite—or because of—all the use she had already endured.

"Pussy feeling empty, toy?" I murmured, my fingers pushing up as I stretched her arms above her head. She looked away, shaking her head, biting her lip and refusing to answer, but I knew the truth—part of her hunger to submit was manifested in having her pussy always full of cock.

"What are you?" I demanded, my eyes roaming over her body under the water, trapped against mine.

"A slut," she replied breathlessly, shivering despite the warmth and steam.

"And what do sluts get?" I asked, leaning forward, my teeth nipping her earlobe.

"They get used," she moaned, as my fingers continued to tease her pussy, pushing in but not quite filling, until she shoved back against my cock, rubbing against me, and I knew she going mad with need.

"Hands behind my head, slut," I ordered, releasing her wrists. She obeyed instantly, arching herself as she locked her fingers behind my head, exposing herself to my touches. My cock slid against her slick skin as my hands ran up her torso to cup her breasts, hearing her whimper as I kneaded them, enjoying both the feel of them, and the reaction I was provoking—she regularly blamed me for making her crave breast play, and I took full advantage of that now, filling my palms as I ground against her from behind, feeling her fingers tighten against my head as she moaned at the multiple sensations. Then I twisted your nipples and said, "Lean, slut."

She immediately complied with the command, leaning forward and placing her hands on the wall in front of her—on either side of the medium-sized realistic dildo I'd attached via suction cup. I was pleased to see I'd put it at the right height, as I placed a hand on the back of her head, and ordered "Open," pressing her forward. I smiled in pleasure as her lips parted and slid around the shaft as I stroked her hair, murmuring, "Good girl. Now suck it."

As her head began to bob up and down on the toy, I brought both hands back to her hips. My cock was rock hard now, sliding against her ass as she bent forward before me, her height meaning I needed to lower myself a little until the head popped underneath her, before rising back up, causing my shaft to rub against her empty pussy. I heard her whimper and she started to pull her head back, a hand dropping down in defense. I grabbed her wrist and put it back against the wall, growling "I didn't tell you to stop, slut."

I think she might have mumbled "Oh God" around the toy—but she went back to sucking, her body relaxing slightly, as she was reminded that she had no control over what I did, which allowed her to give in to what was happening to her. Maybe she trusted me—maybe she was just willing to accept whatever happened. Either scenario made me feel heady and powerful, and I reached a hand down to rub her clit as my cock slid against her, hearing her moan around the toy in her mouth, her ass twitching as our previous boundaries ran into her constant desire to have her pussy filled—a desire I had exploited time after time with toys of various sizes and shapes.

But tonight I wasn't using a toy. My fingers slid down and spread her pussy open, my other hand staying firm on the back of her head as she struggled, feeling the tip of my cock slide against her entrance and almost catch, before I pulled it back and did it again, over and over, each time letting her feel my cock almost push inside her, but then slide away at the last instant. Soon she was pushing back against me, twisting her hips to try and guide me inside, driven half mad at almost being filled, at having her pussy left empty while her mouth was full, with my cock so close and yet denying her what she craved. Her fingers on the wall curled into claws, as if she wanted to grab me and stuff me inside her but knew that wasn't allowed.

"You little cock whore," I taunted her, "Trying to get me inside your slutty pussy like a bitch in heat. Well that's not the hole I'm going to use now..."

Before she could jump to the wrong conclusion, I pulled her mouth off the toy and spun her around, the water arching over her small body as she gasped, surprised at the sudden movement. She looked up at me, panting, and then cried out as I pushed her to her knees, my hand once more where it belonged, wrapped in her thick hair, my cock inches from her lips, my other hand adjusting the shower spray so the warm water beat against her back.

"Open, slut," I ordered, and pushed forward as her lips parted without hesitation—and then wrapped around me as I slid inside. I gave her about half my cock to start, giving her a moment to get used to having me inside her, gazing at the exquisite image before me, meeting the wide eyes looking up at me, before I stroked her cheek and said, "Such a good toy—you know exactly what to do, don't you? Suck me, slut."

Her eyes never leaving mine, her hands reaching up to grasp my legs, her head began to move as her lips and tongue worked my cock, taking a little bit more of me with each stroke until I could see almost my entire cock disappear into her hot mouth, before she pulled back again and repeated the process. It felt...amazing. The power I felt at pushing her boundaries, the knowledge of her surrender, the simple physical sensations—it was almost overwhelming. I just watched her for a few minutes, letting her get used to the idea that she was kneeling and sucking my cock, occasionally using her hands as she varied the tempo and depth, flushing when I told her, "You seem to have spent a lot of time learning to be a good cocksucker, toy." After a little bit I could feel her squeezing a little more, paying more attention to the head of my shaft, and realized she was trying to get me to cum. But this had been a long time coming—so to speak—and I wasn't going to let her off so quickly.

I pulled back, even as part of me knew that if I wanted to, I could fill her throat with cum and she would do her best to swallow it. My cock popped out from between her lips, as my hands moved to her shoulders. "Stand up," I ordered, helping her rise, noting that she no longer showing any hesitation to obey. I left the water running and pointed at the counter outside. "Lean," I ordered, and she immediately stepped out and bent over the sink, her head down, waiting, dripping onto the tile floor.

I followed her out of the shower, picking up the towel and did a quick wipe of both our bodies, getting the worst of the water before moving her sopping hair and drying her throat as well. My cock brushed against her as I worked and she twitched, but didn't move from her position, waiting to see what I would do next, like she always did when I'd succeeded in pushing her deep into subspace.

I reached for the bundle I'd placed on the sink. Steam filled the bathroom as I pulled a condom out—something I always packed but never used—and slipped it onto my cock. I knew she saw what I'd gotten, , and I waited for any sign of protest, but she just kept silent and poised, waiting for my next move just as she'd been trained.

I picked up her collar, and re-secured it to her throat. Immediately she said her collaring phrase, "I'm a slut—please use me." Despite her quick response her body was trembling as my hands settled on her hips—though I couldn't help but notice that she also thrust her ass up, just a little, once again unconsciously presenting herself for my use.

After all the buildup I didn't spend any more time teasing, and thrust into her from behind, knowing she'd be slick and ready. I pushed in halfway with the first thrust, and then buried myself with the second, my pelvis pressing against her ass as she cried out—and shoved herself back against me, desperate to be filled, at that moment only caring about having her master's cock inside her. I held myself still for a moment, reveling in the sensation and the long journey it had taken to get here—and then I tightened my grip, and began to fuck her.

"This was always how it was going to end, slut" I said, in time to the thrusts, her body pushing back as I pushed forward. "This was always going to happen, and you knew it, and you kept putting yourself into this position waiting to be fucked. Didn't you, whore?"

"Yes!" she cried out, leaning her head down and surrendering utterly. "I'm a slut, a whore, fuck me, fill me with your cock, please, give it to me, I deserve it, please, please..."

I grabbed her hair and yanked her head back, my other hand staying on her hip, making her look at our dim reflections in the fogged-up mirror, making her watch as her tiny shape was consumed by my larger one, feeling where we were joined, knowing there was nothing she could do but take it—and feeling her get wetter with every moment.

I released her hair and slapped her ass over and over as I pounded her, growling over her yelps, "I could have done this that first day, slut. I could have pinned you down and filled you with my cock and you would have been as wet then as you are now. All you ever wanted was to be held down and filled, to be a fucktoy, to be reminded that this is all you're for—being used."