I pulled out of her and grabbed her by the hair. I moved up and straddled her chest and stroked my cock with my hand and pointed it at her face, complete with her still-stuffed mouth. I could see the black silk of her panties peeking out the front of her mouth. Her eyes said “no”, but I didn’t care. I took careful aim and released……
The first rope blasted her square in the middle of her face and splashed all over her forehead. The next couple globbed right into her eyes, forcing them shut. She screamed under the panties as I’m sure it stung like a bitch….Linda told me it did. Her face was covered with my hot spurt, so I lowered my aim and blasted her tits with the rest of my load. Her blouse caught some of my seed, probably ruining it. Hey, fuck it, that’s what dry cleaners are for. I pulled the panties out of her mouth and wiped my cock on them.
Standing up, I looked at what I had done and felt a surge of power and redemption. Linda’s ghost had been dealt with and vanquished, I felt like a new man, reborn and alive, ready to conquer whatever I was dealt. Jeanne lay there….face covered with come, tits covered with come, blouse open, skirt hiked up and pussy exposed. She was shaking lightly and it wasn’t from excitement…it was from fear, humiliation and relief. I looked at her and caught her eye.
“Still think I’m some sort of fag? Still think I’m cock-dead?”
I pulled my pants on and waited for my answer, or some sort of threat to call the cops. My rage was gone by now, spent from the effort of the rape.
“Well, am I some sort of fag?” I asked again. She shook her head in the negative and pulled her skirt down.
“You ruined my blouse. This cost $300. Who’s going to pay for it?” she asked, trying to regain some sort of control. I laughed at her and told her to go sell her old cunt on the street and get the money. Her face dropped.
“You better not say anything about this. You asked me here after we were drinking, made me another drink and came onto me. You told me you wanted to get fucked and splattered with come. That’s my story. What’s yours?”
She thought about it for a couple seconds. She started to say something a couple times, but she had nothing to say. Finally, she piped up.
“I guess I don’t have anything to say. Just stay away from me, okay? Leave Rick and I alone.”
“No problem. And keep your fucking opinions about others to yourself.” I told her. Then I left.
Since then, I’ve had plenty of sex with consensual partners. But the rush of OWNING a woman for a short while is intoxicating and I am always looking for opportunities to feed that jones. I’ve written two other stories regarding this and I’m glad some get them and pity those who can’t look past the surface and see what so many of us feel. Stay tuned for another story of domination and power.
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