Reluctant Bride

Unbuttoning his jeans had inadvertently caused him to shift his weight back on to his heels, a feeling he hated because it always seemed like a defensive position, a position of weakness. He quickly straightened up causing a slight shift in the air around them; enough that she caught a familiar pungent stench of sweat and sex. Even though his tone had telegraphed disinterest, the scent emanating from his crotch could be explained by unfettered animalistic arousal. The thought galloped from her brain to her already molten pussy leaving her light-headed in its wake. Oh how she yearned to prove worthy of his desire!

Silently, he'd come to stand in front of her, carefully observing her every shiver and controlled inhalation. He loved the fact that he put her so on edge, but he wondered if her downcast gaze was contributing to its intensity. "Slut, look at me," he said emotionlessly. Never in all his years of being a Domme had he witnessed a sub execute a more practiced move—the calculated side tilt of her head; the slow up-sweeping of her eyes; the innocently expectant roundness to her mouth. The look spoke volumes. About her need. Her worship. But most importantly, about the magnitude of her carnality's intensity. Any pretensions of honor he might've wished to aspire to turned to ash in the presence of her need's powerful heat. Despite being as strong-willed and well-versed in self-deprivation as he was, he knew as certainly as he breathed that no force of earth could prevent him from claiming the woman in front of him as his own, and he mentally praised and cursed his brother for bringing her into his life.

With all the turmoil his boiling blood was stirring within him, he surprised himself with the gentleness of his next words. "Do you wish to please me?" he breathed softly. Her reply came in the form of her eyes languorously blinking at him while her lips parted even more invitingly. "Show me," he said simply, firmly placing his engorged cock in front of her mouth.

His hands continued to hold his dick as her clever pink tongue rapidly flicked against his head before the warm, waiting cavern of her mouth engulfed him. She breathed deeply through her nose drawing his unique musk deep into her lungs as her tongue continued to undulate against his smooth shaft. Because of her precarious perch on the chair's end, she dared not move her hands to aid in her ministrations, so instead, she tried rocking her weight gently back and forth to better access the fullness of his cock. As she rocked back, she was careful to sweep her tongue protectively along the ridge of his head so as not to accidently nick his intimidating girth with her teeth. Because she lacked the use of her hands to help control the speed of her oral worship, she attempted to make up for it by increasing her suction. Even though she frequently got turned on by giving head, she had not gone down on her fiancé in several months: a fact her protesting jaw was intent on making her aware of.

He knew he was a difficult man to go down on because of his size, so he was especially pleased by her enthusiasm for the task. However, his euphoria at the sensations she was producing—sensations he had never felt this intensely before—could not cover up his awareness that her sweeping, darting, massaging tongue and vacuum-suction mouth were starting to lose the coordinated grace and fluidity they had originally displayed. As much as he wanted to force her to finish her performance despite her pain and discomfort, he didn't want to risk injury to her, or potentially his cock. Thus, in spite of his rational understanding of his actions, it was still with some frustration that he forcibly pushed her away from his dick.

She wasn't expecting the forcefulness of his shove, so as her mouth plaintively detached itself from his cock, the momentum of his action kept her motion such that she tumbled backward, landing splayed out on her back like a human buffet. While she managed to contain her tears, her voice belied her panic and heartbreak as she desperately whispered, "Master?" As her fear of displeasing him mounted, she mentally berated herself for the ineptness of her oral capabilities. The small, terrified sound that formed the word "Master" in her mouth touched him in a way he no longer believed possible. It made him want to sweep her up in his arms and breathe sweet nothings against her hair, all the while running his hands all over her body. Frankly, the sound petrified him.

His lack of response to her question along with the vulnerability of her position on the chair made her panic spike, but she knew better than to move without his permission lest she displease him even further. If someone asked her at this moment what her greatest fear in life was, she knew it'd be losing this man's touch forever. Seconds ticked by, unfazed by the private dilemmas paralyzing the two people entwined in the room. Eventually, she no longer felt the intense heat of his body near her legs, and its absence made her want to shrivel up and die: she had failed his test and now he was going to shun her for her incompetence!

Stepping away from her had been wise because it had given him the breathing room—both physically and mentally—he needed to access the situation more objectively. His eyes cautiously swung over to the chair, soaking up the image of her defenseless body demanding he ravage it. He couldn't deny his sexual attraction to her because it was almost like she'd been specially designed to his specifications. Besides which, he was a carnal creature. Sure, he had developed bonds with various slaves over the years, but in the end, they were relationships about fulfilling mutual physical needs. While he knew of some Dommes who lived with their subs, he had never thought about such an arrangement for himself because he could never picture his subs being in his life for any reasons other than sex. She was different. It wasn't difficult for him to imagine her porcelain skin intermingled in his daily routine. In fact, even as the thought entered his consciousness, he could envision her porcelain skin wearing his plush terrycloth bathrobe, cuddling against him on the couch as he shared his favorite Sunday funnies with her. Just the idea sent an unfamiliar pang of longing and nostalgia coursing through his veins that he found almost impossible to ignore. It was settled. He would keep her as his own, to do with as he pleased.

With that he silently walked back over to the door, where he'd left his coat. Although he didn't make a habit of keeping condoms on him when he was without a playmate, he'd picked some up recently in anticipation of perhaps having a meaningless drunken fling after the wedding reception. How fortunate for me, he mentally chortled. As he took the condoms out of his jacket, he was pleasantly surprised to see that his rock hard cock had barely softened despite the seemingly endless introspection he'd allowed himself to engage in. He quickly glanced over at his prize as he dexterously sheathed his thrumming cock, and noticed that she too appeared frozen in the introspective atmosphere. At that thought, his primal instincts began to kick back in—she was his; therefore, he should be the only thing on her mind!

His long strides brought him to the chair within seconds, and as he gazed down at her, he noticed the tension and frustration vibrating off her, keeping her frozen in place like marble. He deftly tossed off his shirt before roughly pushing his jeans down his muscular legs, pooling at his ankles. As much as he wanted to make this first time sensual, the sight of her displayed like some erotic diorama rapidly drove every thought that didn't involve his cock violently pounding in and out of her velvety pussy now from his mind.

The force of his weight shocked her as he fell on her like a starving man, but soon the shock turned to exhilaration. He was forsaking her! The thought had barely registered in her mind when she felt the undeniable pressure of his impressive girth splitting her apart. His eyes nearly crossed at how tight she was: not quite a virgin, but not too far off, and he was incredibly elated that her molten core had continued to drip even without his ministrations. He shuddered to think about what would've happened if he'd forced himself inside her dry.

"Gah, you're such a wet little slut!" he exhaled harshly as he finally felt the last of his cock wedged inside her vise-like pussy.

"Oh, Master!" she moaned joyously, "I've been wanting to feel your cock inside me so badly. Ever since we started talking in here, my pussy's been drenched in anticipation."

"I hope you like it rough, bitch, because that's exactly how I like to fuck whores like you, who're so eager to spread their legs," he spat as he began violently thrusting his pelvis against hers.

"Yes, Master, please! Fuck me however you want! My pussy is yours to do with as you will," she keened.

With that, he ratcheted up his already furious speed as he continued to push her legs both wider apart and further back toward her ears. As much as she wished to drag her nails down his back as a display of her hideous ecstasy from his cock, she was afraid of marring his back or drawing blood, so instead, she dug her nails firmly into the chair beneath her, holding on for dear life as the force of their fucking threatened to dislodge her. She wasn't exactly sure what happened next, but somehow he'd shifted the angle of her hips, and now the base of his shaft was grinding against her clit with every demanding pound of his cock into her abused core. He sensed the frenzied fluttering of her inner walls, and knew she was about to cum. Vaguely, he thought about pulling out or changing her angle as punishment for orgasming without his permission, but his body rebelled at the thought of having to separate itself from her honeyed depths for even a nanosecond. Besides, it wasn't like he wouldn't have all the time in the world to punish her later. Just as that thought cleared his mind, he felt her pussy clamp down on his cock for dear life followed quickly by the type of visual starbursts only brought on by oxygen deprivation—the blissful result of his own orgasm. As his chest fell against hers in a meaty thump, he heard her faintly whisper, "Mine," before succumbing in a catatonic sleep.