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Your Need

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We’re in bed together. Your dark hair, back, and buttocks are close to my skin as you face the window. “So which country would you like to visit next, if you could just go tomorrow?” I ask you, idly running my fingernails down your naked back.


“Hmmmmm,” you think for a moment, before saying “Australia.”

 Then after a moment, “why do you ask?”


“Just curious,” I reply, “and looking for inspiration. A curious mind is a mind open to possibilities remember.” You flex your back, enjoying the sensation of my nails on your bare skin, then turn to face me. Your eyes look into mine as, through your half-smile, you say, “Are you planning on taking me somewhere then? Is it a surprise?”


“I don’t know. Is it?” I ask you as the sharp slap to your right cheek makes you gasp. I smile at you. “You’re so mean” you say, while purring your pleasure at the same time. I slap you again, same cheek, enjoying your head turning into the pillow from the force of the blow. And a third time I slap you. Harder. This time you don’t turn your gaze back to me but keep your eyes closed, breathing softly, waiting for what I might do next.


I put my hand around your throat and squeeze. You have time to moan before you start to struggle for breath. As ever, I release you so you can breathe, then replace my hand. You feel so vulnerable to me in these moments. My thumb presses harder and I can feel the heat of your skin and the small pulse that throbs beneath my steely fingers.

It’s exhilarating, feeling your submissiveness awaken, and knowing my control feeds you as it does me.


I release you, and let you breathe deeply. Roughly, I push my fingers between your legs. I love feeling your wetness. I love what I can do to you, how you react to me.


“Please … fuck me” you say between short breaths. I love that too. Your need at these times. God, you turn me on. Pushing my fingers inside you I explore you briefly, enjoying the way you move your hips to make the most of that delicious inner contact.


“It doesn’t take much, does it?” I murmur into your ear as I withdraw my fingers. “If I slapped you enough times you’d fuck anyone.” I slap you again. Same cheek, but harder. You whimper a little, but I slide my fingers back between your legs, finding you wetter, exactly as I’d expected.


My fingers hover at the entrance to your cunt. You move as if you’d draw them in by doing so, but I know your want and keep them tantalisingly in contact, but teasingly distant.


“Oh please…” you say, as I lean in to tell you, harshly, “you’re a total whore. You’d fuck the nearest tramp when you’re like this.”


I can hear the small intake of breath, even as you whimper your need to be fucked. It’s the small moments isn’t it? It’s the tiny part of your brain that wonders, even as we’re close, and naked, and intimate as hell, whether I’m actually right. That tiny fleeting moment of uncertainty. The nano-second, before you return to your need and wet wanting self, that asks yourself, “Would I?”


And that’s the moment I wait for every time. When my provocation, and seemingly wanton cruelty makes you question your self-respect, your dignity, even as you get wetter despite your inner voice. Then it’s gone, that moment. You’re back with me, feeling me close, my control, and you just need my cock.


“Please… fuck me” you say again, and I’m happy to oblige. Oh hell, I’m more than happy. Your need turns me on. I love you being my slut.


I turn you onto your front and open your legs. Putting myself between them I fasten my hands on your wrists and grip them. Your hair spills down your back and over the pillows. You raise your hips a little, needing me to push deeply into you.


And I do, but having released your right wrist, I hold my hard cock and push it into your ass. You tense immediately, your fingers gripping the bedding, your breaths in short sharp gasps.


“it hurts” you whimper, like I wouldn’t know!


I’m actually gentle at first. But as my own need rises I think about you less, and myself more. I’m gripped by the tightness of you around me and thrust harder as you whimper. Your back is tensed, buttocks clenched, knuckles white as your fists grip harder.


But this arouses you too doesn’t it Princess? Not wanting it, and wanting it. My hurting of you feeding the darkness you have deep inside. It’s not my ego either. I can feel your orgasm building as you suffer for me, finding your own erotic pleasure as I pump inside you.

After you cum, loudly and your breathing subsides a little, I sense you relax. You move closer to me. Is that for reassurance or just your natural need to be close, to feel the two of us as one? Either way, I love it.


“I need to pee” I say casually. You don’t reply. I stand at the side of the bed and look down at you. I love giving you what you crave. And you have so many facets to you, so many complex likes and dislikes to explore. Your need to be loved, but also to be degraded, humiliated.

It’s all part of us isn’t it?


“Apparently,” I murmur, as I start to piss on your naked buttocks, watching the stream soak you and your already wet cunt, “in Australia the water flows the other way.”


You don’t react, other than to open your legs a little wider, letting the warm liquid find its way to new places.


Like the way we’ve opened ourselves to new places.

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