The Story of She

Feeling his hand around her throat never really made her feel threatened. From the beginnings of their relations he would use the tactic from time to time as a training posture. He found that it forced her to focus on one task or another. It helped her immensely, especially at those times where the intensity of her feelings drove her to distraction. She would use the sudden jarring effect and diminished breathing as an anchor in reality.

She took great comfort and security in his strength and presence of mind. His capacity and willingness to take complete control of the scene, and her, made it ever so easy to give herself to him. His strangling grip felt to her more like a security blanket and she relished succumbing to it.

His words and his touch opened the flood-gates, physically and emotionally. She involuntarily jerked, the shuddered, emitted an extended moan, and as her moan washed over his ears, he suddenly felt a warm rush of her fluids flowing out of her and onto his belly and crotch, spilling her scent all over him. "Th-thhh-aaaa-aank you, Sss-ss-ssiiiiiiiirrrre!!!", she moaned as she spurted. She dug her fingernails into his shanks in response to the now warm, slippery environment between her spread thighs and his waist.

As he felt her warmth spill, he knew the time he awaited had arrived. He took a deep breath, sucking in her pheromones as much as he could. Madly taking in as much of her scent as he could. He felt his blood begin to boil and his desire for her, to possess her. He could feel himself fill to bursting with intense wanting and desire.

She, through her most sacred secretions had induced a fever in his blood, a fever that tore at his mind and stripped away large portions of control. His grip tightened around her throat and he pulled her closer to him. He kissed her deeply and then abruptly pushed her away far enough for their eyes to meet and focus on each other.

She gasped, nodded her head and managed a choked, "...y-yyes-ss-s...mm-mm-master..." she was ready.

One abrupt slap, rang across her cheek and turned her head slightly. She paused briefly, took in a short breath, gripped even tighter on his waist, let out a long moan and gushed out even more nectar.

Another slap...another kiss...and soon they fell into each other heaving, spent and satiated.

It was the feeling of possession that they were after, both of them. Possessing and being possessed. He, through force of his will, conquered her. And in so doing, he became her protector and she his responsibility, her safety and refuge, in many ways her servant. For in allowing herself to be conquered and possessed, she surrendered her will and control of herself, and gained guidance and subtle control of another.

"...and now you will finish me on your back, my precious..." and in one quick motion, still embedded inside her, they flipped positions and she found herself beneath him with her thighs pushed up to her shanks, his cock splitting her hole and tickling the entrance to her womb.

"This will not take long, precious...I want you too much to hold back." The wetness of her flower made a sloppy sound as he pounded her depths. And with just a few deep strokes he moaned and hit the pillow beside her head as he spewed his seed deep within her.

"...I...I would kill... ... for you..." he stammered, still barely able to speak. "...Let me die for you, my lord..."