He Is My Master & I Am His Slave
I thought he was done for the night after my last orgasm. I think that was my 13th orgasm or maybe be 15th. I am not sure how many times he made me come that day. I lost count somewhere along the way. I couldn’t sense him around me. I think he left the room again after my last orgasm. There I was, fully naked, cuffed to the bedpost, exposed and vulnerable, waiting for him like the wanton slut I am. Suddenly his voice tore through the silence of the room, startling me and waking me from my noisy thoughts. I couldn’t quite understand what he said, but I just said, “Yes, Sir.” I was not sure what I agreed to, not that I cared anymore. I just knew by now that he wasn’t going to hurt me. He was my Master, and I, his slave. He will not hurt me. He sat beside me on the bed and stroked my chin. His gentle touch after all these orgasms still received an ‘umm’ from me. His hands trailed down from my chin to my cuffed hands. He released my left hand and reached across me to release the right. His chest rubbed my nipples which were just freed from the clamps. I moaned at the slightest touch. My hands were free now, and yet I remained unmoved. It wasn’t that I didn’t have energy, or I feared to move. I just wanted to be the most loyal slave to him, at least for the night. I imagined him smirking at my loyalty, my obedience, and my love. His blue eyes stirring my loins again, I moaned. He clicked the safety on the cuffs to release my legs. It is ironic how I felt then. I was freer when I was cuffed to the bedpost. It was a great escape from my normally hectic life, the boredom, the routine, and the responsibility. To tell you about my Master, he is so perfect. I have never seen someone so caring, protecting, loving, cold, composed, eccentric, dominant all simultaneously. I felt safe in his presence. I had just met him. In a couple of hours, there I was in his room, in his bed cuffed to the bedpost, naked, blindfolded, awaiting his caress, soft kneading, and hard slaps. That is how much I trusted him, my Master, my savior. I knew I might never see him again. I might never experience this again with anyone else. But that night, he was my Master, and I, his slave. I was thankful for it. He stroked my writs, his fingers easing into my skin, kneading it slowly to release any tension caused by the cuffs. I knew a bit about aftercare, but this was surreal. I moaned at his ministrations. After giving me back-to-back orgasms, inflicting pain, treating me like a real slut. My Master was beside me, massaging my hands, calming my nerves. I knew then. I would do anything, I mean anything, to receive this care again from him. I felt my eyes watering up, a big lump forming in my throat. I swallowed it and let out a deep sigh. I was about to say something when his lips pressed against mine. I was startled by his sudden move. It took me a moment to return his kiss. I was still in my subspace. It was an out-of-body experience for me. If I did believe in heaven, I know this would be it. The endless orgasms didn’t tire me. I felt my pussy stir up to his kiss. The kiss started slowly, with him massaging my wrists, elevated to a full-fledged make-out session with me pinned to the bed. He was on top of me, his cock trying to dig a hole into my stomach. I moaned into his mouth as the slightest touch of his cock sent my body into overdrive. I lifted my hips to press against his erection. It only tightened his hold on me. He used his knees to spread my thighs and rub against my pussy, no sorry cunt! Yes! My cunt. He loved the word. He wasn’t gentle. That is something I like about him. Sex with him was primal, animalistic, pure lust, and nothing else. It was a deep need to satiate all my bodily wants. I would still cream my panties just thinking about it. My breath quickened to his rubbing of my cunt. I was pinned to a stranger’s bed, his cock pressing into me, and yet I felt protected. His hands pinned my hands to the bed. He settled on my thighs with his legs pinning my knees to the bed. I was still cuffed to him. Yet somehow, his movements were fluid. He was able to reach down and take a nipple in his mouth without moving an inch. The wetness on my already erect nipples sent gooseflesh over my body. I lifted my body to try and push the nipples more into his mouth. He moved back, removing his salivating mouth from me, away from my now erect nipples. I didn’t like my tits being detached from his mouth. A need to have his mouth on my nipples sent my body into high drive. I groaned, threw my head back, and begged him. “Please, Master, please suck my tits. I want your mouth on me. Please, accept me, Master, take me, please!” I was almost squealing as I finished the sentence. His deep voice pulled me back from a dream state and pushed me right back into a trance, “Yes, my love, beg me to take you.” His English accent and deep voice melted the last bit of resistance (if I did have any) I had. I cried, “Oh! Master, please take me, bite my nipples. I am yours to do whatever you want. Bite me, Master. I am your slut, your whore, your cum slut, take me, Master. I want you to mark me with your bites. Please, Master, accept me as your slave.” I have never been this vocal before. My arousal increased as I fell deeper into submission. I would have given my soul if he had asked for it (Not that he ever would). I was not in a trance. I was aware of his every movement, every breath, every lingering touch, hard caress. I could feel it all. I could feel it in a heightened state. I was very responsive to his touches, his breath, and his commands. It was like I was in sync with him, and we were a single organism rather than two different people having sex. We were entwined and merged into one. His every move elicited a response from me. I was squirming under his body, desperately holding on to the last bit of light without being fully engulfed by the darkness.