The Visitor

Then her heart skipped a beat; he had paused in the ritualistic visual and tactile exploration of her most sensual, sensitive, intimate parts which he called an "inspection". Now, standing behind her, his one arm around her waist pulling her back flush against his front, his other hand gently but firmly pushing her head to one side, exposing her neck and throat, he began tenderly kissing his way from her shoulder to her earlobe. She could feel the outline of his rampant erection pressed into the small of her back.

"Oh, that vicious, cruel bastard!" she thought, "He must know how much I need his cock... now! Why is he torturing me with this slow teasing, making my poor clit throb so fiercely it will burst without some dick friction?"

It was a rhetorical question, as she knew all too well that he delighted in stoking her sexual furnace for hours before allowing her any release. How she hated him while he did this and how she loved him as she came, and even more so in the long languid afterglow as they lay happy and sated in each other's arms.

"I have something special for you," he whispered in her ear.

Her heart began racing faster; presents from her master were so often a mixed blessing as she'd come to learn, though at worst, only meriting apprehension not terror... as she'd also come to learn. Even as the Almighty supposedly never gave anyone a burden they couldn't bear, so too her visitor never subjected her to more than she could endure -- be it pleasure or pain. And of course, he would never risk permanent damage or injury to his property.

With some effort, and not a little trepidation, she held her inspection position as she awaited her master's boon or bane.

"Relax your arms by your side," he said from behind her, and she did so, grateful to relieve the tension building in her shoulders.

She started slightly as she saw his hands appear on either side of her, very near her throat, then felt something going about her neck. A few seconds later, she heard a click just behind head.

"Turn around and look," he said.

She spun about and peered at herself in the mirror above the fireplace. She now sported a metal collar of a unique design. She stepped forward to have a closer look. It was made of chrome-finished steel, three quarters of an inch wide all around save for the front, which was a bit wider. Front and center was a brilliant, round, green gemstone fixed in a silver setting. Just below this was a steel ring, an inch across, hinged by a riveted strip of metal. Running her finger around the inside, she first noticed it was padded by something that felt like neoprene. When her fingers reached the back of the collar, she felt a small padlock. A discrete hinge was placed on each side, halfway between the front and the clasp/hasp at the rear.

"It's custom made," he said as she examined it further, "the stone is an emerald... to match your beautiful green eyes."

"It's lovely, sir, of course," she answered, stunned by the craftsmanship and design. She'd been given collars before -- very nice, but very utilitarian; nowhere near as opulent as this. It troubled her. "Thank you. Wha...what's the occasion, sir?" she added, perplexed.

"Really?" he said, a smile in his voice, "You don't remember what next Sunday is?"

"Yes. Of course," she replied, feeling incredibly foolish. She had not forgotten, but thought, for a moment, that he had. Then a thought came to her.

This was one of those occasions where she knew she should hold her tongue, but she just couldn't resist. "This is quite special, quite beautiful and quite expensive... shouldn't you save this... for your next pet?"

"What 'next' pet?"

"Your next one," she said, repressing the smile she felt creeping up on her as she continued to goad her master, "the one after me.

"I still am hungry for everything you have for me, sir, be it pleasure or pain. But I'm an old bitch, sir. I am no longer as beautiful as I once was, and there will come a day, maybe sooner than we both would like, when I won't be able to endure your... attention... long enough to satisfy you... or me. I'll no longer please you.

"This collar speaks of permanency, longevity," she said avoiding his eyes and his mounting anger as she absently ran her fingertips along the collar's edge and surface, "It's the collar for a young slave, one you can use as you please for decades... not for a broken down, swaybacked old mare, two steps from the glue factory."

She had not finished her words before he was in front of her, taking her face in his hands and locking his eyes on hers.

"Now you listen to me, bitch" he snarled, "You are an incredible pain in the ass! The care, feeding, training and exercise of you sucks up most of my free time and thought. I've invested a lot in you to make you perfect -- perfect! And I have in no way gotten near to a full return on my investment yet. Besides, I don't have the time or the mental or emotional resources to start training a new pet.

"Therefore, you'd better wrap your head around the sad fact that you're my one and only pet. You're going to be expected to perform all the duties demanded of you as my slave until I say different. And if I... if I have to... adjust our activities to avoid... risking my investment... and to keep you productive, well, I guess, that's what I'll do. I'll find your new limits and slam your nose right up against them... as I've always done.

"So, don't think you can get off so easy. You're mine. You belong to me. You'll be my bitch -- my only bitch -- until you die. And... and even then, on your death bed, not you...not God nor the Devil...nor anybody else decides when you check out. I decide! Me! If I have to, I'll flip you over and butt-fuck you 'till something important pops. I'll shove my cock down your throat until you choke to death on it -- I'll kill you with my dick! You will never leave ME. Never again! Do you understand? Never again! Never!"

He stared at her incredulously as his slave blushed and giggled, so hard in fact that she could barely utter the words, "As you wish, master."

His face cracked into a wry smile as he realized her brazen, impudent -- if endearing -- jest.

"That," he said in a low, sensual growl, "will cost you."

She didn't know what possessed her to be so presumptuous, but the next thing she knew, she had thrown her arms around his neck and had locked lips with him. For his part, he reflexively wrapped his arms around her waist, crushing her against him.

After an eternity, he broke the kiss and, while still fiercely embracing her. "You know, don't you," he said with a mischievous grin, "you'll have to be punished for that, too."

Tears glistened in her eyes as she smiled broadly and said, "Yes, sir; please, sir."

Again, they kissed, his tongue ravishing her mouth, their bodies straining against each other as if they could, by force and will, fuse into one being.

He broke the spell, whispering huskily in her ear, "On your knees, bitch."

With a knowing smile, she slowly slid down the length of his body, her face, hands and breasts feeling every inch of him as she went, her nostrils drinking in the smell of him along the way. Once on the floor, she adroitly took up her customary submissive kneeling position; butt back on heels, knees widespread, hands behind her neck, fingers interlaced. As he stared down at his prize, she struggled to maintain her letter-perfect position against the anticipatory vibrations seizing her body, augmented by the occasional shudder.

"Untie and remove my shoes... and my socks as well," he commanded. She sprung forward to obey. A minute later he stood barefoot and she had returned to her slave position.

He unbuckled his belt, unzipped his pants and slipped them off, throwing them on top of her clothes. A few moments later, his shirt, tie and undershirt joined his pants in the pile on the sofa.

He freed his massive, fully erect member from his shorts and let her stare at it. He chuckled as he watched her lick her lips, then look up at him, her whole face pleading her urgent need. He stepped forward so that his bare feet touched her knees and his tumescent cock was inches from her face.

"Service me," was all he said.

She took her hands from behind her head and with one she gently cupped his bovine balls, as the other reverently griped his equine prick. She reacquainted her too-long-absent friend with her features, slowly caressing her entire face with the angry purple head, at intervals taking deep breaths through her nose to draw in the heady musk. With a series of slow, loving kisses, her lips traced the length of the beast, along its underside, to its root. Then, with a single sacramental kiss to each gland, she proceeded to take first one testicle into her straining mouth. Early on in their "relationship", she had attempted to mouth them both at once, but found there was no way to do so without sever discomfort to their owner.

Even one was a tight fit. Her tongue nonetheless caressed the furry boulders, each individually, before reluctantly releasing them from her mouth.

She then returned the way she had come, with a trail of kisses which ended with her staring the cock directly in its blind eye. She stuck the tip of her dainty tongue into the diminutive orifice, making tiny circles, and then changing to a spiral, she soon had covered the entire throbbing head with saliva. She pursed her lips just so and bobbed her head so that the cock's head -- and head alone -- popped in and out of her mouth.

Thus, did she draw-out the servicing of her master's cock, forcing him to endure pleasure so intense it bordered on pain. And endure he did, so proud was he of his pet's skill and creativity, developed during her years of bondage.

Finally, she had progressed to her specialty (and his favorite); deep throating. Yet even though his entire body wanted nothing more than to let the wicked widow continue toward the inevitable and imminent climax, with supreme will and reluctance, he pulled her head off his digit. He tilted her spit-slicked face up to meet his. "On your feet and face the fireplace," he ordered.

When she did as she was bid, he said, "Lean forward, put both hands on the mantle." She did so, watching him in the large mirror just above mantlepiece. The mirror was hung such that it tilted downward at almost a 10 degree angle, so that when the schoolteacher looked in the glass, it was as if it were a video camera aiming slightly down on the room. This afforded her a much better view of herself and of her master, who now stood behind her and kicked her feet further apart. He instructed her to step back half a pace from the fireplace, leaving her supporting her full weight with her hands.

All at once he gripped her waist firmly with both hands and pulled her back a bit, even as he thrust his hips forward a bit, pressing the length of his turgid prick into her ass crack. She squealed involuntarily as she felt the underside of his cock, near the root, press against her puckered anus while his balls brushed against her pussy lips.

"I think someone needs to be reminded of what she is," he said as he bounced the broadside of his broadsword against her twitching rosebud, "Someone has forgotten that she's my property and I will never -- never! -- let her go."

In the mirror, she saw him reach over to the arm of the sofa where he had earlier placed a small tube of ointment. She saw him squeeze a small dollop on his fingertips and replace the tube. A moment later, a well-lubricated finger slipped almost effortless past her sphincter and he began swirling the greasy digit up her asshole, even as it circled around stretching her anus. She gasped with anticipation and longing. Less than a minute later, he knew his slave girl was ready. He positioned the head of his cock tight up against her anal opening and applied just enough pressure to insert the very tip of his weapon, barely a centimeter, past the guardian muscle ring.

"Now... you're going to swallow my cock with your ass," he said, his hands cruelly gripping her hips. Without preamble or warning, he thrust himself forward, impaling his entire length in her rectum. She cried out in pain, discomfort and... relief.

Oh, how she needed this... this supreme sacrament of surrender, how she had prayed for it. Nothing re-enforced her submissiveness or reaffirmed her status her master's bitch like being buggered. As much as she loved vaginal sex, being sodomized (which she had never experienced until her breaking) held a special, almost spiritual place in her heart.

Perhaps because she had always held anal sex to be humiliating, shameful and degrading, her first ass rape by her visitor had been a transformative, paradigm-shifting experience, accentuated by the symptoms of physical shock. Thereafter, when he took her ass, he took exaggerated care in preparing her -- an apparent about-face from her brutal rear-entry initiation. In fact, he generally fucked her ass longer and more gently than he did her pussy. What is more, he would usually speak more gently to her then, expressing his pride in her endurance, accomplishments, and his joy in owning and using her.

Even on the rare occasions when he brutalized her bunghole, she took perverted joy in this. The violence of her violation told her in a cruel and visceral manner that she was an honest-to-god slavegirl; that her powerful, handsome master had absolute power over her and could do with her whatever he pleased; that she was utterly helpless and not in control of anything...not even herself. It was intoxicating.

"I'll remind you what you are!" he growled as he pumped her mercilessly, "You're my bitch! What are you? Say it!"

"I'm your bitch, sir! Your bitch! Your dirty little cocksucking bitch!"

"And you love getting fucked up the ass, don't you! Say it!"

"Yes, sir; I love it! I love your big fat cock up my tight little asshole. Fuck me up the ass and make it hurt! Hurt me! Hurt me! Hurt me with your cock! Tear me apart! Fuck me up! Kill me with your cock! Kill me with your cock! Do it! Do it!"

For ten minutes she screamed hysterically, begging him to be as brutal as possible, in between shamefully denigrating herself.

At last, while he was certain she could go on for hours, he knew he could not last a moment more. Driving himself as deep inside her as he could, he exploded, flooding her ravaged rectum with gout after gout of hot jism. She immediately went into the convulsions of orgasm, screaming incoherently all the while. Later she would remind herself how grateful she was for a half acre lot surrounded by so many noise-dampening trees and bushes... and of course triple-paned windows, thick upholstery, carpeting and drapes.

She was completely drained, barely able to support herself on shaking arms. Looking up in the mirror, she could see he was likewise fatigued, yet smiling gently... and his still-hard cock was still deep inside her. Her reflection smiled at his.

"I know it's still a bit more than a week off," he said, almost sheepishly, "and despite you being an impudent little slavegirl... still... happy Mother's Day."

She smiled wanly back at her only child, the product of her wayward youth, given away at birth to strangers by the self-centered and frightened girl she had been. She nodded her head in acknowledgment. "Thank you, my beautiful, beautiful boy."

He withdrew from her and when she stood and turned to him, he pulled her into a fierce embrace. What a horribly miserable excuse for a human being she must be, she thought. How could she have abandoned him, disposed of him? The horrors he experienced in foster care -- was that worth her avoiding embarrassment and public disapproval?

She still marveled at his determined journey from poverty and abuse, to wealth and power, fueled in part by his obsessive need to find and exact revenge on the woman who had condemned him to what could easily have been a life of cruel want and despair.

"You know I love you, don't you, baby?" she asked, her cheek pressed into his chest hairs.

He blushed and nodded silently, afraid to let her hear any weakness in his voice. She then pushed away from him enough to fix his eyes and added solemnly, "You're a good son, and Mommy loves you so very much."

Tears ran from her eyes and her smile trembled as she admitted to herself -- God help her -- she really meant it.

End