Like Winning the Lottery

He didn't hurry. He savored every sound. He caressed my ass. He slid his fingers into my cunt, smeared my juice all over my legs and my ass. I was panting, arching my back, trying to push back against him. I felt him rubbing the tip of his glorious cock along my slit, felt him push against my asshole just for a second. I would have taken that too. Anything at all.

He still didn't hurry. He inched himself into me, so achingly slowly. I was crying and crying out. He kept moving glacially. He knew it was torture for me and I'm sure he was enjoying it. I could feel my cunt spasm around his cock, trying to grip him, trying to pull him in like my vagina had a mind of its own. He was saying, "Cassie, Cassie, Cassie, you greedy cunt. Cassie, Cassie, Cassie, you fucking slut. You filthy cum bucket."

He'd never talked to me like that before. Never hinted that he wanted to. Oh, my God, just thinking about it makes me want to hear him say it again. He can call me anything. Say anything. Just so long as he decides that I'm worthy in the end.

Jesus. I just gushed all over the chair again. I don't care. I can't write much longer. I need him.

Once his cock was completely inside me, balls deep, his hips pressing against my ass, pushing me into the table edge, he stood still. He stroked my back, played with my hair. He took a big section and pulled, pulling my head up. He bent down and whispered that he was going to fuck me like he'd never used me before, and that if I wanted to show him that I really cared about him, I'd cum so hard he could feel it. He whispered he had other things in store and I should show my appreciation by enjoying everything.

Some of this I remember. Some I know from the video.

He'd put the camera on a counter, so it shows the table, a sideways view. It was already running when we walked in the kitchen. I look dazed, I'm stumbling as we walk in. He's not quite dragging me, but you'd be forgiven for thinking I was very drunk. There's some fumbling around as he sets me up the way he wants. Then, even watching it, the tension builds. He's sliding into me. He's whispering, but it's too low for the microphone to pick up. I'm moaning, murmuring, nodding. You see me shudder, as he traces a line down my spine, and caresses my ass again.

Then he starts thrusting. Fairly slowly at first, moving almost all the way out of me, gliding all the way back in. Then faster and faster. He's pushing into me so hard that my thighs hit the table ledge, the chairs slide. I'm gripping the sides of the table. He's fucking so hard it's knocking the air out of my lungs. He's holding me by the hips, pulling me back toward him even as he's slamming into me. Then he gives that up, leans over and braces himself on the table. He's grunting like a mad man. Our pelvises are slapping audibly. I'm yelping and moaning, and sounds I don't have words for. He's just pounding and pounding me, and I cum. Hard. Stomach curling, toes curling, knocking my forehead against the table as the first screams roll out of me.

He looks at the camera and smiles. He looks like Lucifer. Watching the video, at that point, Dr. Sam had to physically restrain me from jumping up to impale myself on Dean's cock.

He looks down at me again and just fucks harder. Where this stamina and energy came from, I have no idea. He'd just worked twelve hours in an emergency room. I'm already spent. He just keeps going. Another orgasm rolls through me and I collapse on the table, I can't move. He slows for a heartbeat or two, then speeds up again. He wraps his hand in my hair and pulls my head back, yanks hard on my hair until I yelp. I orgasm again. Then he leans down, puts his mouth to my shoulder and bites down hard.

In the video I gasp, arch my back, and shove back against him as hard as I could. His mouth stays put, and I scream in pleasure again. He lifts up his mouth just slightly, and thrusts a few more times. Then he straightens up, pulls out, and ejaculates all over my back.

He smears his cum into my skin, he rubs some into the ends of my hair. He traces the bite mark on my shoulder. Then he says, "That was good, Cassie. But I'm not done."

He picks up the camera, brings it over to the table where I'm half passed out again, I've managed to roll over on my side, and he runs a close up of my body. He pushes me over onto my back and the video shows a slow pan down my front, and an extreme close up of my pussy. I'm glistening wet, lubrication smeared almost down to my knees, labia swollen and red. He's still recording as he casually reaches out and fingers me, pulls apart my lips and flicks at my clit. I twitch and moan, out of my mind.

On the video, he says for me to follow him, and I slither off the table and stumble out of the kitchen. We go into the living room. He gestures to the coffee table and I lay down on that. He puts the camera on my stomach, then sorts out something with the TV. He briefly shows what's on there. It's another video of us I didn't know about until today. In Dr. Sam's office, fucking. While Dr. Sam watches and Miriam blows him.

But he picks the camera up and concentrates on me. He shows the marks on the front of my thighs from the table. Then he turns the camera around, pointing it at himself, at his erection. He hasn't flagged a millimeter, even though he just unloaded on me. He's still hard as a steel rod. He hands me the camera, and tells me that it's very important to him that I hold on to it, no matter what he does. My hands barely work, the camera is shaking, but I'm trying to comply.

He leans down to lick my pussy. He eats me until I cum again. I'm just making pathetic whimpering sounds. Then he fucks me again, as violently as before, or more, maybe. My feet are on his shoulders, and his hands are right on the red marks left by the table. Fingers digging in to my thighs, trying to hurt. He's pounding in to me, and the camera is jolting and jerking around. He leans down and bites my breast, and I cum again, spasming around him, screaming, shuddering. I drop the camera. There's a few minutes of video showing some carpet and you can just hear the sounds of him fucking me. His grunting, the squeaks of the table as he pounds against me, the wet slapping of his pelvis into mine, and my barely audible moans.

He yells, "Cassie, cum with me." I do. I arched off the coffee table, dug my heels into his shoulders, I scream. He does. He's wrapped his arms around my thighs, holding me to him as his hips jerk forward and shudder to a stop. I remember feeling my cunt clenching around him, feeling his still hard cock shooting ropes of his jizz into me. I'm panting so hard I almost choke. He collapses on top of me, his head slamming into my chest as though he actually passed out. The video keeps going. Eventually he picks up the camera. Now when you see my face, I have that same look of supreme serenity that Miriam had. He shuts it off.

There's another section, they edited to the end of that video. It's hours later, dawn showing through the living room window. We're both dressed.

He trains the camera on my face and says, "So, Cassie, what do you want for breakfast?"

I look at him adoringly. I look at him worshipfully, hungrily. I say "Anything you want, Dean. But can I have your cum first?"

When I saw that part, I felt so serene again. I knew I really understood what the right answer was. It seemed so much more like me than the memories from earlier.

13 September 2019: I've been seeing Dr. Sam for roughly a year. Every week. I'm running out of things to talk to him about, and he's said that my treatment is almost over. I think I'm going to miss seeing him. And his receptionist, Miriam. She's so nice, and she always smells so good. Her pussy tastes good, too. Dean and I are in a really good place. I thought I'd miss my job, but I don't. I haven't talked to Breanne in a while, but that's ok. She's in a new relationship and you know how that goes. I haven't talked to my sister in a while, but she started one of those stupid fights, so that doesn't matter. All that matters is that I can spend all my time making sure my husband is happy. Seems like a pretty good life. Like *I* won the lottery twice.

That's the last entry in my diary. I don't know what to add now. I don't know why I got upset by what they showed me today. I'm going to tell him he gets to decide, he knows what he wants, and my purpose is to make him happy. If he wants me to live in the fog, then that's how I'm supposed to live. If not, then that's also for the best.

My god, I've wasted all this time on this stupid thing. I'm never going to show this to anyone. No one would believe me. I don't care. I just need him. I need him to fuck me and use me and cum in me and cum on me and share me and do anything and everything that pleases him. He is my life now. I'll go to him. His glorious perfect cock and the nectar of the gods it dispenses. If I remain worthy, he'll allow me to take him in my mouth. If I can please him, I'll get to drink his cum.

He is my life. His voice is my command. His eyes are the measure of my worth. His cock is my lifeline. His cum is my salvation.