Mistress paused once more. My heart thudded frenetically. If it beat any harder it would burst.
"I'm going to fuck you in the arse."
I stared at Mistress, stunned.
My arse? I wanted to ask her to repeat herself. Even though I knew I'd heard correctly, I needed to hear her say the words again. My arse? I opened my mouth but nothing came out.
"The bed," Mistress said, smiling.
"Pardon?" I croaked. My throat was dry, as if I'd been deprived of water for days.
"The bed," she repeated calmly. "Go. Now."
Slowly, I turned and shuffled towards the huge double-bed at the far end of the room.
Like Mistress’ chair, the frame of the bed had been altered to reflect her unique personality – the formerly-brass spindles of the ornate headboard had been spray-painted a shiny black. And, obviously, the bedding was colored a deep, dark purple. Normally, I would be awash with arousal when approaching the bed.
But, not tonight.
My legs were heavy, the muscles taut. I couldn't manage any more than a funereal crawl. My desire had been dimmed and the main emotion coursing through me now was fear. Yes, I was scared.
Mistress was the first woman I had loved. Before her, before I'd had the courage to admit my true nature, I'd masqueraded as heterosexual. And, in that guise, I'd had four sexual partners. Three were bores, both outside the bedroom and within it. Sexually, they were the palest shade of vanilla.
The only one who showed the slightest inclination toward experimentation was Karl, the third of the not so famous four. Granted, he'd needed to consume a bottle of wine before embarking on anything new but at least we tried things - including anal sex.
However, both during and afterwards, I was puzzled how something could be simultaneously underwhelming and painful. It was the first and last time we tried. Fortunately, the topic never arose with my last male partner - possibly the dullest of the lot. However, even if it had arisen, I would had declined a second attempt. It was not an experience I wanted to repeat.
But, now, here was Mistress suggesting - no, telling me - that my arse was to be the main dish once more. I was nervous. Would it hurt again? And, if it did, how was that a reward?
I had nearly reached the bed. My trepidation about what would soon happen here made the item of furniture seem more sinister than it was. We'd used the bed before, lots of times. And I'd never once had any qualms about returning to it. But, tonight, I was resistant. What should I do? Should I tell her of my doubts?
Before I got the chance to speak, Mistress’ voice cut through the nervous silence.
"On all fours, slut."
And with that, my fears were allayed.
The mere sound of her voice killed my doubts. I would be okay - in Mistress, I must trust.
I climbed onto the bed and, resting my shins and palms on the top of the duvet, squatted on all fours, like the dog I was. I inched my legs further apart, exposing my arse - ready for my Mistress. Moments later, I could sense her next to me, standing by the side of the bed.
“Look at me,” she said.
As ordered, I swung my head - the huge cock loomed ahead of me, within licking distance of my mouth. I couldn’t help it; my pussy tightened at the sight of it.
"Kiss it, bitch," Mistress spat.
Inching my head forward, I puckered up and planted a delicate kiss on the head of the strap-on. The thick cock was tasteless and cold. But, even so, a thrill went through me as my lips touched it. I felt a sudden urge to wrap a hand around the shaft and pull it deep into my mouth. I wanted to suck it, hard.
I wanted to give my Mistress head.
But she wasn't going to allow that. Not yet at least. Abruptly, the cock vanished from sight as Mistress moved towards the rear of the bed. I felt the mattress lower as she climbed onto the bed. Behind me.
And, finally, she touched me.
Placing one hand either side of my hips, she roughly pulled me backwards. I sighed as my shins rubbed against the smooth cotton of the bedding. In my mind, I could see the bulbous tip of Mistress’ strap-on at the threshold of my arsehole, ready to enter. The very thought made my heart beat faster again.
“Reach under the pillow,” Mistress said.
Obeying her, I pushed my right hand under the pillow. My fingertips touched something small and round.
“Pull it out.”
Hesitantly, I grasped the unknown object and tugged at it. As it emerged from its hiding place, I saw the round thing I first touched was a lid – it was a tube of lube.
“Give it to me.”
Reaching behind me, I held the tube aloft. Mistress snatched it from me without saying ‘thank you.’ I heard the lid of the tube flip open, and, with a soft, almost indecipherable, pop, Mistress squeezed the gelatinous lube onto her dick. There was no way around it – my fear had utterly vanished. All I wanted was to feel that huge cock pounding away inside me...
Suddenly, a cool trickle of lube slalomed down the crack of my arse. I shuddered as the gummy liquid touched my anus. Mistress’ warm hands began massaging my buttocks, rubbing the lubricant in. Teasingly, her hands slowed when she reached the entrance to my arse. I jolted, sighed, every time her finger brushed the hole she would soon enter.
“Look again,” Mistress abruptly ordered.
“There’s something else under the pillow. Find it.”
Underneath my skin, I could feel my synapses exploding. I felt dizzy, light-headed. My brain was befuddled with lust, and was taking time to send to messages to my limbs.
With an effort, I reached under the pillow again. My fingers scrabbled in the soft darkness, searching for the second object. Once more, my fingertips brushed against something. Something bigger. I wrapped my palm around the shaft of the object and instantly I knew what it was – it was the Demon, Mistress’ favorite vibrator. Although compact, it was shudderingly powerful.
The many orgasms it had caused was testament to that.
Just as I had done with the lube, I lifted it and held it out for Mistress.
“Good girl,” she said, snatching it off me. “I think I’m ready to begin now.”
I heard a quiet ‘click’ and the Demon buzzed into life. As did every nerve ending in my body. I was wet with anticipation, desperate to feel the frantic vibrations of the Demon on my skin.
Without warning, Mistress thrust the vibrator against my sodden pussy.
I spasmed, squealing aloud as my body jolted. Shocks of pleasure zoomed through me as Mistress held the Demon against my swollen, eager clit. I begin to shiver, to shake, in time with the manic vibrations. The sensation was overwhelming.
No sooner had the Demon arrived, it left. Mistress moved the buzzing plastic away from my clit. Slowly, the vibrator traversed my vagina, and across the soft skin of my perineum.
Towards my arse.
My heartbeat was wild; my breath coming in jagged bursts
Suddenly one of Mistress’ fingers was brushing my pussy lips. She was probing between them, spreading more wetness over my clit. She began moving the tip of her finger in a slow circle, around my pulsing clit. With each circuit, her finger sped up.
Faster and faster.
The circles grew smaller, her fingertip arrowing in towards my clitoris. Then it was on me.
I was light-headed. On the verge of screaming. Oh, God – I was close. So, so close to coming.
And now I was even closer!
Finally, the Demon touched my ass. I squealed at the shock. But I wanted it inside it me. Craved it. Now! I was finally ready: Ready to be fucked in the arse.
But no. As Mistress continued to wank me with her finger, the vibrator did no more than rest against the closed pucker of my anus. I wanted to tell her to put it inside me, quickly. My orgasm was arriving with wrathful haste – I didn’t have long. I could feel the muscles tighten in my feet. Soon they would begin spasming, a clear sign I was close to climax.
My senses were overloaded, utterly occupied with processing the sensations of Mistress’ finger working my pussy and the Demon on the threshold to my arse…
The Demon no longer angrily buzzed on my anus and Mistress’ finger had ceased playing with me.
I was so busy absorbing this sudden disappointment that it took me a second to register that Mistress had spoken.
“What?” I asked, dreamily.
“I said, ‘You’re ready now,’” Mistress repeated.
I didn’t get any further: My words were killed by Mistress ramming the bulbous shaft of her strap-one inside me.
I screamed as the huge cock parted my arse, pushing past my willing muscles.
God – it felt beautiful!
Slowly, Mistress moved the strap-on backward and forward.
It was better than I could have ever have imagined. My body was singing. It was wanton, dirty, kinky but wondrous. My mind was fizzing, my body alive, and my arse and pussy were on fire. I was burning with sexual energy.
But I wanted more. No, I needed more.
“Harder,” I whimpered.
“Please fuck me harder,” I begged.
I groaned as Mistress obeyed and plunged the strap-on deep inside me.
I felt her grab my hair and jerk my head backwards. She leant forward so her mouth was an inch from my ear.
“You’re in trouble now, bitch,” she spat.
She let go of my hair and thrust my head forwards, back towards the pillow. She grabbed my hips and the fucking began in earnest.
Quickly, harshly, she moved the cock in and out, a relentless cycle of hard, animalistic pleasure. I found it hard to breathe.
Greedily, I gulped in oxygen in fragmented, gulping bursts.
“I’m going to fuck you so, so hard.”
Inexorably, Mistress increased her speed. Her cock ground into me and my heartbeat is in perfect sync with her movements – faster and faster I feel the blood course around my body.
“How’s that, slut?”
Again and again.
“Is that hard enough?”
Harder and harder.
I hear her grunt as she rams the cock home.
I was amazed at how relaxed my arsehole feels when I was turned on. In fact, I’m so relaxed that – despite initially baulking at the strap-on’s size – I could take something double the size.
Still, Mistress increases her speed. Her grunts grow louder, more ragged. And I know that she, like me, is teetering on the edge of sexual oblivion.
Precariously, I swiftly transfer all my weight onto my left forearm. I nearly topple over – as my orgasm speeds closer, my balance has diminished. I reach my right hand under me and rub my finger furiously over my clit.
As Mistress pounds me from behind, I pump myself faster. The fire is growing inside me, engulfing me. I have no freewill left – I’m a slave to the orgasm enveloping me.
The strap-on is moving like a piston now. But Mistress is beginning to tremble…
So am I. My feet are spasming. And the ripples are working their way up. In no time, my whole body is shuddering.
My pussy is pulsing, faster and faster. The gaps between the contractions shorten and shorten.
I can taste it.
As the cock thuds into one last time, I give my clit a final firm stoke…
I throw my head upwards and scream. Behind me, Mistress shouts “Yes!” and collapses against me.
Despite the darkness in the room, my brain is flooded with dizzying light.
Joy explodes inside me. At this moment, I feel invincible. That I could do anything.
Heat washes over me. I don’t need to look – I know my body shines with the rich, ripe flush of sex.
We rest there, with the strap-on inside me, and with me supporting her, for an age. We’re unwilling to move, not wanting to break the spell.
“Do you have something you want to say to me, slut?” Mistress finally says. Her speech is slightly slurred, drunk as she is on sex.
“Thank you,” I reply.
And I was grateful. Genuinely so.
For I had never been happier. Never felt so complete.
And, at that moment, I knew that I would always be a good slave.
I would keep on serving my Mistress to the best of my abilities.
And I would continue to be rewarded.
Oh, yes – I loved my reward.
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