Literotic asexstories – Her Master’s Desire Pt. 01 by MagicGoth,MagicGoth
This is a kink romance. It’s also a CNC scene/nonconsent scene (so trigger warnings apply), with spanking, caning, anal, bondage, and physical and emotional masochism.
Of course, in this fictionalized story, the set up is blatantly obvious and she secretly “wants it”, which isn’t the way noncon works in real life. Please actually talk about and negotiate any IRL CNC/noncon scenes thoroughly before engaging.
Oh, and the woman’s sexual character and desire are essentially mine: her easy multiple orgasms and masochism may be atypical, but they are traits I share with the character.
….
March 4, 2024
Oh, where to begin? It was all so obvious, how could I be so stupid as to not notice what he wanted out of me?
It started innocently enough. We met around New Years. He’s a few years older than me. We’re going to dinner for a third time, and have been hanging out for nearly two months. He’s going to surprise me with “something nice, because an independent little lady like yourself that works so hard deserves something nice once in a while. I’ll send you an Uber, and arrange the rest. My treat to a great new friend. Would that be alright with you?”. It was an interesting way of asking – at once respectful and with an old-fashioned gentlemanly quality, but calling me a little lady feels a bit condescending. Or am I overthinking things? It sounds like a date, but he emphasized that I’m a friend, didn’t explicitly ask, nor has he said anything, he’s not touched me, nor do his eyes fixate on me.
I’m to wear a skirt or a dress, not long, no tights, a nice coat, and he’ll have a car pick me up at 6. Oddly specific, but he’s comfortable telling others what to do, and doesn’t seem to give much care to public opinion.
And the set up for dinner sounds so swoony and romantic – I wish past boyfriends had done things like this. I think I’m going to wear a little black velvet skirt since he said, thigh-high socks since it’s still winter, a black turtleneck to contrast with the shortness of the skirt, and my best coat with its big velvet collar.
I definitely have a bit of an unrequited crush on him. It’s nice – it’s not the sort of crush where I’d feel hurt that he doesn’t like me back, but I’m aroused by him, both mentally and physically. I’m glad he enjoys my company. I decide to wear a plug, so I can heighten my arousal during dinner, and relieve myself afterward.
The restaurant — was lovely, and he must have reservations in advance? Or is he just the sort of guy who can pull strings to get in? Four courses, not prix fixe, thank goodness.
He had an espresso afterward, and said it was going to be a long night.
“Oh, working? Or do you have plans with other friends afterward?”
“Not exactly, little one.” I raised an eyebrow. He smiled. “You haven’t seen my place. Would you like a tour and some after dinner conversation?”.
“Oh, that sounds lovely,” I replied.
HIs place is gorgeous. Top floor of a Victorian, all kitted out. Sparse but not quite minimalistic, with its dark wainscoting intact, dark wood floors. Shoes and coats off type of house: it’s warm and very clean. There’s a modern kitchen – dark colors, dark marble – and a dining room further off. Not that I’ve seen much of those rooms, because I didn’t get that tour that night. He takes me to the couch, and gets us some water. I look around while he does. It’s lovely, elegant yet comfortable, with darker colors than I’d like, and a few light pops, such as the curved white sofa we’re sitting on. I feel like I’m sinking into the large sofa, the high ceilings and darkness make me feel small and somehow precious. It must be the ambiance he’s created here, and how easy it feels to be near him.
I think we talked for twenty minutes. Maybe longer, but time flies when I’m talking to him. He’s such a fascinating guy…self-taught coder, built a reputation, and a reputable security firm. He’s not rich or famous – thank goodness – but comfortable and secure. We talk about history, politics, economics, the state of the world, and philosophy. He’s not as much of a reader as I am, and he lacks the collection of degrees I’ve acquired. He’s knowledgeable about many subjects, and an interesting conversationalist.
He moves closer. I moved away. Then he growls a little, and fills the space between us. My heart is thumping. This isn’t what I expected, nor did we discuss this, nor did I think he was attracted to me. It feels like an abrupt shift, and while I’m attracted to him, I need more time to adapt to the idea that he is to me. The low growl scares me. What is he planning to do to me? Did I agree to this? I mean, I accepted dinner, wore what he told me to wear, and I went home with him.
“What are you doing?” I can hear the tightness in my voice, and it sounds so small.
“I think you know,” he says, and wraps an arm around me. “You know, your smell changes when you’re aroused…”
“No, this isn’t what…”
“There’s a reason I said skirt no tights, little girl,” he says, and one arm is tightly around me, and the other hand between my thighs. I don’t know what to do. His hand is sliding up my right thigh. Easy access, without pants or tights to protect me. I squirm, trying to wriggle away. I scoot downward, putting my hands on my skirt to be careful it doesn’t ride up. My heart is going faster, and he’s scaring me. He’d been so interested in talking to me, so nice, so – uninterested in me physically, and so fucking nice. Why was he doing this? He grabs my wrists, holding them with one hand, arm still around me.
“No, please stop,” I whisper.
“If you really want, I’ll stop. But little one, I can smell you through whatever little panties you’ve got on, with no extra layers to protect you, getting wetter, and I can see you opening your thighs a little more for my hand.” Oh. Yes, I finally noticed that I had opened my legs for him. The humiliation of him noticing before me, the sense of fear I had in the moment, the sense of safety he gives me were all combining to make me feel very wet.
It had taken me years, but I knew now I was aroused by humiliation, fear, and pain, Often, when I had a bruise or a cut, I’d rub it, and try to make it last. Whenever I was afraid of something, I’d want to throw myself toward the very thing I was afraid of. I had thought it was because I liked challenges, and wanted to think of myself as being strong enough to overcome anything. But also, I needed those challenges, or else I’d be bored. So I found ways to channel those desires: school, work, occasional new experiences.
And I had known my default world related to my sexuality, but now, I was learning the depth of entanglement between those desires. Fuck me for being turned on by fear and humiliation. Fuck me for being a masochistic submissive. Fuck me for casually telling him when he wanted to know what “women think of sex”. I mean, I’m thinking “fuck me”, but it’s more clear that I’m going to get fucked tonight. I feel myself open my legs a little more at that thought. Is he going to force me? I can’t bring myself to think the r-word. No, no, no. “I’ll take that as a yes, little one”.
“No!”
“I like the fucked up game you’re playing, little slut…saying no with your mouth while your body screams yes.” His voice is calm, amused, with a tint of menace. His fingers graze the warm, damp crotch of my panties. Because I’ve slithered down, he can feel the end of my plug.
“Mmm, what’s this? Let’s see.”
“No, don’t!” This is so humiliating. I mean, he must know. God, please make him stop. I don’t want him to think, well, something bad about me. He stands me up. I’m turned on, too, and he has one arm around me, and the other one, awkwardly tugging down my panties, one side at a time. God, please stop. Also, don’t stop.
“Oh, little girl, you weren’t kidding when you said you were kinky, little slut, wearing that through the entire dinner? What, were you planning to finger fuck yourself in a bathroom or when you got home?” he coos, as he lifts up my skirt and looks at my ass. “Let’s get this off you,” he says, unzipping and dropping the black velvet skirt on top of my panties. Now I’m wearing only a sweater, bra, and some high socks, my ass and pussy bare while he takes them in.
I’m silent, cheeks burning, tears rising to my eyes, my embarrassment and fear making me freeze up and get wetter simultaneously. He hoists me up easily, throws me over his shoulder. Smacks my ass hard, with his hand, raining blows. He carries me to his bed. Drops me on the bed, and locks the door. I push my arms up, but before I can sit up, he says:
“Don’t think you’re going anywhere, little one”, he says, snapping on the lights. On his bed, I see cuffs. Oh, he planned this down to that detail. He straddles me, so I can’t escape. Which meant he thought I’d come to his home with him.
“Please, stop, I don’t want it like this…”
“Oh, now you admit you want it?” he replies. Ugh. I trapped myself with that choice of words. He has a habit of catching my mistakes. I don’t know how to react to this one.
“I like these slutty thigh high stockings, baby. You’re so small, and they make you look even more small”, he murmurs. Sweater comes off, and he turns me around, undoes my bra, and pulls it away. His hand grazes my nipples. Then he grips my right breast, kneads it a bit, then the left gets the same treatment. He rolls me over. “Sexy little gemstone plug you got there,” he says, “and sweet little round ass.” He spreads my ass cheeks. So humiliating. “And…look at how wet you are, I can see you glistening, it’s all over those modest little lips that you’re trying so hard to squeeze close now, but all that wetness is betraying you and you’re going to get it on my bed soon, horny little fuck.” I can feel myself getting even more wet with his words. Thank goodness he can’t see my face, because I can feel my cheeks burning. He is still straddling me, but now I think to raise my torso…and he quickly grabs me by the back of my head, yanking my hair. “Don’t try that again,” in a mean low voice, and pushes my face into a pillow. For a second, I wonder if he’ll hurt me, maybe suffocate me. It only lasts a second, my pussy gets warmer as fear courses through me, and I moan. Then I feel cold leather on my right wrist, colder buckle, then the same for my left. And something between them, holding my arms tight behind my back. Then, my ankles. I remember his little comments that made me feel helpless. Now I’m really helpless. He can do almost anything to my naked, prone body.
He walks to the side of his bed, and turns my face. “Look at you blush, pretending you’re not a horny slut, pretending you didn’t plug your ass through dinner,” he cooes. He grabs my chin, and kisses me deeply. I’m kissing him back. God, it feels so fucking good. “Face down, little slut,” he says. God, I’m so scared. Please don’t hurt me. Please don’t force me. But. I’m wet, I wanted him, I want to give him whatever he’s going to take. I’ve wanted him to touch my pussy so badly.
He’s spreading my ass again. “God, what a messy slutty pussy. And I really want to punish this curvy little ass for tempting me to do such naughty things.”
I feel something thin stinging my ass. Dead center of both cheeks. “No, stop!”. Again, a little higher. I squirm. Then a little lower. “It hurts, Sir”, I moan. But God, even I can hear how horny and needy that sounds. High. Low. Center. Low. High. Center.
I’m moaning now.
“Tell me you like this, little slut.”
“I….Oh, Sir, it feels so good,” my voice goes high on the last word, a screech of pain and ecstasy. 10. 20. 30. The feeling climbs higher, wet warmth between my thighs. Probably making a mess of his sheets, like he said. I can hear my uncontrolled shrieks and yelps. It feels like he’s just keeping on the edge of my limit. He never tips over, never strikes so hard I can’t take it. He’s so calm, so controlled, so much the Master of the situation. God, please don’t let me cum from this alone, I think in a nanosecond of sanity. I’m so close, he can probably hear it in my voice. Then a few bare-handed slaps on my ass, which is warm with low-grade fire of his punishing it. Five with the thin stinging thing on my thighs, which makes me screech. It hurts so much.
“Hm, the backs of your thighs are sensitive, little one,” he says. He caresses my aching, fiery ass. I moan, my body automatically and thoughtlessly rising toward his hand.
“God, what a horny whore. You’re a little masochist, too, aren’t you? Enjoying me caning your ass. You made it so easy. And baby, when a man offer you a fancy dinner and tell you what to fucking wear to it, they want something in exchange. And maybe they’ll even take it.” I can hear the smile in his voice. Voice drops again, a bit menacing. “But then, I knew you wanted it, too, which is why you’re playing along. You’re desperate for cock, aren’t you? You pretend to be a good girl, so smart, so nerdy, so shy and bookish. So aloof, not an attention-seeker. But inside, you’re really a needy, cock hungry whore, doing dirty things with your ass and pussy to get off, hoping someone with a hard cock notices how badly you crave it.” He pulls the plug out a little, then in, playing with it. I hear myself moan, a broken, sexual sound, ragged, uncontrolled. I can feel his breath between my legs. “God, I could smell your horny pussy, slut,” he says, lapping it. Then coming back and sucking the clit for a second. Then back to playing with the plug. I can hear my moans getting louder, higher pitched.
“Ooooh, baby, can you cum from me playing with your little asshole?” Laughter in his voice. He goes faster and harder, as if he’s trying to stretch my asshole.
“Tell me, can you cum from me playing with your fucking asshole?”, low menacing voice. I moan. “I asked you a question, and I expect an honest answer”, he says.
“Yes, Sir, I think I can cum”, I say, voice broken. I’m so afraid of what he’s going to do next, and afraid I’ll like it. My ass being stretched, it feels so unnatural, something going in and out of that private hole. So good, with that pinch of pain. I’m going to cross that threshold and climb it, I can feel it building. I’m past answering again at this point. My voice goes higher and higher, and I’m about to –
I feel the wave grab me, my muscles clenching down on the plug, my empty pussy is clenching too, and my screeching cries follow. “Baby, I barely touched your clit or wet pussy all night, and you already came. What a fun little fuck you’re going to be tonight.” He spreads my pussy lips with two fingers, then licks my cum in an obscene way. More humiliation. “Another question: are you a masochistic slut? Tell me, little one.”
It was a question. “Yes, Sir.” What’s the point in fighting and denying him after I just came on an anal plug?
“Yes, what, little one?”
“Yes, Sir, I’m a masochistic slut,” I reply. I don’t even think about it, I obey instinctively. He has that much power over me: over my body, my fear, my orgasms. And I did respect him, even more now with how easily he aroused and controlled me, and I was an object, his plaything.
He walks away for a few seconds. I squirm. Can’t do much with my wrists crossed behind me, and my ankles cuffed together. The plug is out. Then… his wet, slick fingers are inside my asshole. More lube, but I’m already so wet. It occurs to me that his fingers haven’t been inside my pussy yet.
He’s straddling me again. He rubs his cock down the length of my wet slit. I hear myself moan, I feel my body rise a bit to meet his. Is he going to fuck me? No, he isn’t pushing against my pussy. He’s spreading my ass again, and I feel the tip of his cock against the tighter hole. He can’t, I squirm, but his body is longer and larger, and covering the length of mine. Not to mention the cuffs.
“Oh my God, you can’t…please. Please, don’t do that. Please, no, stop.” I’m pleading with him, begging him, feeling desperate.
“Can’t what, fuck your ass? I’m going to fuck your tight, sweet little asshole. And you wanted it, you even prepped it for me. And what did you call me earlier? Sir? And what did you call yourself? A masochistic slut? Be a good little masochistic ass fucking whore for Sir, and take his cock in your little asshole, baby” he cooes, mockingly, laughingly. And he makes me feel helpless and little, all over again.
He pushes his cock in a little more. My fists are clenched, and I open and close them because it’s the only part of my body I can move. It feels so unnatural, that big cock trying to enter my little hole. And there’s nothing I can do about it. He’s going to enter my ass. My eyes tear up at being stretched and unable to do anything. He pushes his head in a little more. Maybe he’s too big for me to take. “Oh!!” I scream, stretched beyond what I think I can take as the widest part of the head slips in. When it’s in, our bodies are locked. God, then it starts to feel so good. My asshole is sore, aching, and that makes it more sensitive and somehow, feels even better. I’m moaning, squealing. I know I’m a dirty whore for liking this. Which makes me more wet and more turned on. Like – a feedback loop of fear, pain, humiliation driving me to ecstasy. Why am I like this? Why can’t I like normal, romantic penis-in-vagina sex?
“God, baby, how many women would take an assfucking like this? Hm? Before my fingers touched your pussy, you took my cock in your ass. You dirty anal whore, wet and horny and ready to be used.” And I tip over the edge. I’m screeching and screaming and clenching on his cock. And he’s not even done yet. Then he plows into me, deep into my ass. Over and over, pulling out but keeping his head in, then plunging deep in. Faster. And not three minutes later, he makes my ass orgasm on his cock again. “I have a condom on, baby girl, but I’m going to cum inside your tight little ass now, because I’m going to use that wet pussy of yours later tonight.” There’s so much violence in how hard he is, how fast he’s working my aching hole. As if separate from all logical parts of me, my tight hole is milking his hard cock. And I screech, violently loud as he violently, jerkingly pours into the condom, into my ass, and he shouts out, too. His muscles contract inside of me. Then, he flops his spent body down my spent body, and wraps his arms and legs around mine, locking my body into the place he wanted it.
A few minutes later, he pulls out and gets up. I hear running water, a flush. He sits me up, I drink some of the water as he holds a glass to my lips. Then he pushes me face down into the pillow again. I hear…a camera, perhaps on his phone. Two snaps.
“Oh my God…”
“I wanted a photo of asshole I just stretched and fucked.” Smile in his voice. He turns me around. His fingers exploring and hands running up and down my arms, my torso, my thighs. Kisses me. Deeply. I’m kissing him back, hands still behind my back. He moves to my neck, kissing the soft, damp skin there. Then downward, to the nipples.
“Baby, are you a masochist?”
“Yes…yes, Sir, I am.” I shiver as he twists a nipple. Sucks it lightly. Goes back to toying with it. He already had me tell him I was a masochistic whore, why does he need to ask again? Haven’t we established this already?
“So, if I do this…” He pinches and twists. Just as he crosses the threshold of pain, my empty pussy clenches and the muscles there throb.
“Noooo,” I squeal, an orgasm of pain blindsiding me, eyes squeezed shut, clearing everything but feeling outside of my brain. No control. Just a sensation so extreme that my body gives into it, and thrusts me into a state that isn’t gentle or joyous. It’s ecstasy, it’s bliss, but it’s so sudden, extreme, and outside normal feeling I don’t know what to make of it.
“Did that feel good, slut?”
“Yes, Sir, I – I came, Sir”. I shiver, catching my breath, afraid he’ll laugh at me.
“Oh, God, what a delight you are! So clever, so sweet, and such a fucking sexy little slut.” His voice sounds so happy. Laughter, yes, and happy. Oh. I pleased him. I can feel myself smile. It makes me feel a bit giggly and giddy, to have his approval. “Such a respectable lady on the outside, and a fucking dirty submissive masochist whore underneath it. I’m going to make you realize what a dirty pain slut you are.” He wrapped his arms and legs around me tightly, and wound a hand in my hair, tugging it lightly. It feels…so intimate, as if he’s trying to make me one with his body.
I smile, but my lashes are still wet with tears. “I can’t hug you, back, Sir.” It makes me feel like I’m a doll or a toy for him to pose however he’d like.
“No need to, little one. You like calling me Sir?”
“I can’t say ‘you’ or your name, it doesn’t feel…respectful” I say, shyly. “And I feel like I’m supposed to show you respect, since you have power and control. You could hurt me. You’re so perfectly calm. Now I see how you were making me feel helpless before, setting me up. And you’re so smart, and accomplished, and your house is beautiful, and…”
“I’d only hurt you if it gave me pleasure, little one. And truly damaging your brain or body wouldn’t give me pleasure. I want to make use of both of them again, so it’s counterintuitive to harm them. I care about and like you as a person, too.
“I had high hopes. I’ve been having fun spending time with you, too, but when you brought up sex in the bookstore, and so casually mentioned that you were kinky…and how you kept sneaking glances at me when you thought I wasn’t looking. And tonight, you were saying no, but opening your legs and squirming and writhing and responding to how aggressive I was with you, I knew you wanted it rough. I wanted to take you, not allow you to give yourself to me, because that’s the way to truly have you. I hear the contempt you have in your voice about past partners. I have to bend you to my will to earn your respect. And you’re so little, it’s so easy.”
I’m floored. I didn’t know how to respond. No one had done anything close to this with me, or read me so easily. I had played a bit, I had orgasmed from pain a few times, but it was nothing like this. Never had I felt so safe and so afraid of someone at the same time. I had always felt a level of disrespect for the insecure doms I had played with, I had played at submission to get off, and always felt that the real power lay with me. It had always felt like an act. Not this time. I shivered at how calm, controlled, and sure of himself he was. I thought of how easily I had obeyed him to make tonight happened. How calmly he corrected my little mistakes, never raising his voice when I tried to escape him or didn’t reply quickly enough. His mastery, ease with commands, and his domination wasn’t driven by insecurity or weakness. I didn’t know him well enough to know then how his mind and sadistic domination worked…
He moved lower, his head between my legs. I gasp. A finger pushes into my wet pussy, and his mouth is on my clit. Then circles his tongue around it. I moan. “Cum for me, slut”, he murmurs. I know I will…it’s building already, he has that power over me, the ability to make my body cum as he pleases. And over and over…
Then, he comes up again, kisses me. I taste myself on his lips, his face. I can feel my body arch under his.
He stands me up, off the bed. On my knees. Hands still behind me. Gently shoves his cock into my mouth. My lips part to take it. So hard to do this without hands, without being able to guide him into my mouth. But I take it, wrapping my tongue around the head, as he pushes. I circle my tongue around his head. Then he pushes in. Out. Past my lips, I purse them to make them feel tight around the head of his cock. Deeper in with each thrust. “You’re taking this throat fucking so well, pain slut, almost like you were hungry for it.” What happened to the sweet words of 20 minutes ago? Does he have to remind me of how little I am every few minutes? He wants me to remember that he knows how much control he has over me, that he’s very aware of how my size, arousal, and fear play into this exchange. Yet, there was care in how gentle he was, how focused on my pleasure and degradation, and his little gifts of orgasms and pleasure gave him more power over me. Gone was his sweetness, he’s making me his dirty whore again. The head of his cock pushes back my throat…I clench my fists, thumb tucked into the palms of my hand, tongue down, because that’s supposed to make deep throating easier….I feel him getting harder…veins on my tongue.
He pulls away, and pushes me face down on the cool wood floor. His hand is on the back of my head. I hear something tearing, as he undoes the tie between my ankles and spreads my legs. He’s going to take me on the floor? Two fingers, fast, rough, inside my wet hole. Fingers circling my clit, pinch, in, circle, pinch, in…circle, pinch…and again…I scream.
I’m still shivering from the orgasm when he scoops down, flips me over, drops me on his bed, swings a leg over my body, and straddles me. I push at him with my legs, and writhe on his bed. He puts his hands on my chest, manhandles and pushes my breasts hard enough for them to ache, and pushes me back down. “Stop, little slut, unless you want me to hurt your pussy with my cock, too.” Fear of disobedience and from his threat makes me freeze. He parts my legs with a knee, my hands still behind me, then positions his hard head on my wet slit. And gently, in. I shiver, finally, his cock inside me…and I’m unable to stop my reaction as my pussy orgasms around his cock. “I didn’t even get it in all the way yet,” he chuckles. I look up, pleading, embarrassed. Then he shoves himself in, and I cry out from the shock of that rough gesture. “Yeah, you wanna cum all over this hard cock again, slut? Show me what a good little whore you are, how badly you need a cock railing you – ”
I hardly think, as he roughly fucks me open. He kisses me again, deeply while riding me hard, and I feel my pussy tightening on his cock. I’m screaming as he pulls his lips away from mine.
He chuckles. “Good little slut, let’s get more of that out of you.”
He pulls out, flips me around, reaches his hand around to play with my sensitive clit. He rubs up and down, then pinches. Lifts my ass up, and plows into my pussy, hard. I lose track of both time and the number of times I cum around his cock.
“You’re really enjoying this, aren’t you, little whore?” I moan approvingly in response. “Such a desperate, needy cock hungry, cock sucking, ass fucking, pain loving —” I could feel him getting harder inside me, could feel how his cruel degrading words excited him. ” — slut you are. You’re a masochistic pain whore whose holes needed a Master’s pain and his hard cock instead of trying to find satisfaction with little plugs, toys, and your fingers.” I gasped, little squeals of orgasm. He was growling above me now, his hands grabbing my ass hard, which was still sore from his beating and fucking it, he pushes a finger inside my ass and I scream. Then he jerked hard inside me, and I could feel him spasming violently inside of me.
I quiver and my knees drop weakly, and he dropped onto me, arms encircling me as he pulled out of me. Then he pulls me up so I’m sitting, unbuckles my wrists, and undoes the cuffs. I stare at my wrists, dazed and joyfully numb. I’ve been cuffed for so long that I don’t feel free. He somehow still has a hold over me. I stare at my wrists and hands. He holds me tightly, in sitting position, rocking me back and forth. I laugh, nervous, dazzled, still giddy, still in a state of fear and mild ecstasy.
“How are you feeling, my little slut?”
“Oh, I -,” my voice trails off.
“Hm, I said I expect an answer when I ask you a question, little one,” but his words are soft and gentle this time.
“I feel too many things to sort out now, Sir. That was wonderful. I still feel helpless and floaty.”
“Hm, still in subspace, little one? You did so well. I enjoyed taking you so much, you’re so responsive, you love pain and getting fucked so much, and it’s so easy to read your pleasure and what’s too much for you. You’re quite skilled, baby, and I can’t wait for you to properly suck my cock. And I haven’t even said anything about your body. These tits pressed against me are so beautiful, that ass is gorgeous, and your whole body, little one, is – well, the proportions are perfect. I’ve been enjoying your brain, I hope you allow me to enjoy more of your body, and I do hope we get to know each other better.”
I sit, still dazzled by his gentle compliments and requests for more, with the dimmest awareness that his mixture of care and cruelty were binding me closer to him, the start of a feeling of desperate need that he wants me to have. I nuzzle my head into his chest, feeling him grab my hair in a gentle hold, and pull my head away. Ever the one in control, even now when I thought it was over. He looks down at my face, and smiles.
“I’ll take that little movement as a yes, that you want more of this.
“Let’s get you cleaned up and hydrated, little one, and have some of that conversation I promised you once you’ve come back down to Earth” he smiles, scooping me up and carrying me out of his bedroom…
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