Submission to Lust

Then he took gentle grip of her waist with both hands and encouraged her to move, telling her in a breathy voice how sexy she looked to him, how he was going to fuck her forever, make her come again and again against him and how she was powerless to resist and she knew he was right. He had her now, she was his. She had no choice, he could fuck her all night if he wanted and she could do nothing to stop him. Not because he was the stronger although he certainly was, but because she simply could not act against her lust or his control.

She began to move of her own accord, moving for him. At first simply rocking her hips back and forth, then gathering her legs beneath her, she began to rise up and down. At first his hands continued to guide her motions by holding her waist, then his right hand slid deliciously up along her back, his fingers trailing a line up her back to her neck, sliding beneath her long, gloriously jet-black hair that fell to her mid back as he did so before his fingers spread across the back of her scalp, gripping with soft pressure, pulling her so she was forced to arch her back, his fingers pulling her hair gently, expertly finding the balance between pleasure and pain as she rode him hard. Her perfectly pale skin was smooth against her straining muscles as she continued to rise and fall upon him, her mouth wide and her eyes half closed in ecstasy.

She was his now, utterly. He could do whatever he chose to her body and she wouldn't stop him, probably would be unable to stop him. Her ass ground against him as she pressed down upon him again and again, feeling another orgasm building powerfully within her. When she came this time she cried out loudly and his hand slid around her to cover her mouth. She came licking and nipping at the palm of his hand, still pounding up and down against him until her knees began to tremble too much and she collapsed down upon him, feeling that he was still hard yet again within her.

As she began to come down from her latest orgasm, he wasted no time, he lifted her up until he popped out of her and sat up, moving her around him and lying her down on the couch, she felt like a doll in his hands, his warm, dominating hands. He pushed her back and climbed onto her once again, between her legs, facing her for the first time during their fucking. His greater height meant that he loomed over her in the missionary position, and his hands pushed her legs to lock around his waist as he entered her once again with a grunt. Then he placed one hand on either side of her head as he began to develop a deep rhythm, looking down into her eyes from above and for the first time during their fucking, she kept her eyes open and stared into his. She was consumed, totally controlled by the desire she saw there.

They made love several more times in several more positions that night before he fell asleep, finally spent. She lay awake for several more hours before finally catching an hour of ragged, fitful sleep. She was consumed by guilt and yet still felt totally beneathhiscontrol. She rose at 8am, when the buses began running again and, after washing up in the house's bathroom upstairs she left quietly without waking anyone, leavinghimasleep on the couch.

She was dead tired, but inside she was a crazed whirlwind of conflicting emotion. She texted her boyfriend to tell him she was on her way home, he didn't respond, presumably still asleep. Buthesent her a message. It was a simple message, easily mistaken for harmless, but she felt quite sure she knew what it meant:

It was a good night, you will Have to come again. x...