Mistress Of Nothing M/f short read by missie
Posted: Sat Aug 09, 2014 10:49 am
I gasped and arched my pelvis up for more.
He obliged me, but then he always had done, and he sets a pace and rhythm to spank my bottom as I happily graze across the erection I know I’ve caused. I know a fierce blush bloomed long ago across my now crimson bottom-- and to him, and that’s all I care about right now, it looks all the prettier for it. He spanks my naked butt and I rapidly disappear further along the velvet-lined tunnel. He speaks, and I try to listen because I’m a good girl, but he’s far away now, punishing my butt and pulling my love and devotion to him from my body with every ounce of his being. I respond as always, with every ounce of love and strength I have, every command I have over him. Anchoring our bond with his hands as he rains down smack after smack I am stuck between torment and bliss. I am silenced by the consciousness of it all and reduced to guttural moans.
“I’m your good girl,” I intone. It comes out sloppy, a lazy admission rather than the gutsy proclamation I anticipated.
“I’m your slut, your fucking dirty whore,” I slur. “I’ll be whatever you want me to be,” and in those moments it is true. I will be whatever he needs.
I am His and I please him. He is the cause of my desire and I his.
I am lost, reinvented, broken and mended.
I am reduced and rebuilt, softened and ripened.
I am longing and longed for.
I am fearless and frightened.
I am whole.
He obliged me, but then he always had done, and he sets a pace and rhythm to spank my bottom as I happily graze across the erection I know I’ve caused. I know a fierce blush bloomed long ago across my now crimson bottom-- and to him, and that’s all I care about right now, it looks all the prettier for it. He spanks my naked butt and I rapidly disappear further along the velvet-lined tunnel. He speaks, and I try to listen because I’m a good girl, but he’s far away now, punishing my butt and pulling my love and devotion to him from my body with every ounce of his being. I respond as always, with every ounce of love and strength I have, every command I have over him. Anchoring our bond with his hands as he rains down smack after smack I am stuck between torment and bliss. I am silenced by the consciousness of it all and reduced to guttural moans.
“I’m your good girl,” I intone. It comes out sloppy, a lazy admission rather than the gutsy proclamation I anticipated.
“I’m your slut, your fucking dirty whore,” I slur. “I’ll be whatever you want me to be,” and in those moments it is true. I will be whatever he needs.
I am His and I please him. He is the cause of my desire and I his.
I am lost, reinvented, broken and mended.
I am reduced and rebuilt, softened and ripened.
I am longing and longed for.
I am fearless and frightened.
I am whole.
