The ride over was brusque. He donned an air of stoic silence that might’ve excited her, if not for her fear of its purpose. They hadn’t spoken much since the afternoon tiff. It was essentially nothing. Almost contrived. And things like that always came out in the wash. Communication was their super power, after all. But still, she replayed the day and silently mulled over His impenetrable disposition in an anxious silence. Was He still upset? It wasn’t like Him to hang things over her like this. Not without ulterior motives, at least. What could it be? she was scant on ideas, but something was definitely off. “Unless…” she thought with a shudder. Unless it was something else entirely.

When they got out of the car, in a blink, He subverted her relentless pondering with a disarming smile, an extended elbow, and a “Shall we dance?” she eagerly took His arm and responded with her own beguiling smile. He flickered a smirk. Though the stroll back to the spilling laughter of the bonfire contained every hint of their normal unspoken warmth, this quick flip to His usual charm somehow only deepened her apprehension and (though she’d never admit it, least of all to herself) her thrill. she did not dare imagine further.

They followed the welcoming smell of woodsmoke to the group in the back yard. A warm reception almost right on cue. What a gift. He guided her down beside Him, His hand on the small of her back as they settled by the fire. These were her friends. she had recently reconnected with the lovely hostesses after far too long. He’d met everyone once before and only remembered a pair of the dozen or so names. That was fine. He wasn’t the least bit bothered by these types of social situations. Their navigation was nearly always enjoyable, and He had been starved for conversation of late. They felt something like back country snowboarding, He imagined, though He had never been.

she knew the rules. He had laid them out many times, always the same way. Slow. Stepwise. Sequential.

“What will you do?”

“What will I do if what?” she asked through her infuriatingly adorable, affected ignorance as she kneeled at the foot of their bed. Though she doubted it, He knew she had a few morsels of brat in her after all.

He didn’t even need to slow His pacing to cleanly slap her across the mouth.

she squeaked in pain and surprise.

He decided to play along.

“What will you do if someone tells you to meet them somewhere?”

“For what?”

Another impertinence. Another slap. This one sturdier.

“What will you do if someone tells you to meet them somewhere to be fucked?”

“Who?”

A third slap. This one she might’ve smiled to earn had it not rouged her cheek so badly.

He grew impatient.

 “What will you do if anyone tells you to meet them anywhere to be fucked?”

“Anyone?”

Genuine fear. Not worth a slap. Though worth making her flinch with a glance and the implication of a feign.

“Anyone.”

“I will obey.”

“Who will you obey?”

“You.”

“And them.”

“And them.”

He was momentarily satisfied with this. A breath.

“Why?”

“Because I’m a slut.”

A final slap. Knuckles this time.

“Because I’m your slut.”

“Good girl.”

He could virtually hear her heart flutter from that.

“And because it’s what you’re for.”

“And because it’s what I’m for. Sir.”

Another satisfied breath.

As she expected, He then began to remind her of the script.

The conversation was uniquely lively with this crew. Despite His minimal experience with them, He felt He fit delightfully right in. There was a pleasantly unearned sense of familiarity. The type of immediate recognition amongst strangers that manages to simultaneously provoke the depth and vulnerability of old friends while still kindling the gratifying discourse of provocative new community.

He spoke about music at first. Though, to say He spoke overstates it. He peripherally participated in a conversation about music, casually enjoying the passion on display. The genre at hand wasn’t exactly His wheelhouse, but that didn’t bother Him. He happily considered Himself musically eclectic. Right up to the boundary of country, of course. Godawful as it was.

Though one wouldn’t have immediately guessed it from His demeanor, hip-hop was more His flavor. This might’ve stemmed from His father’s appreciation for bluegrass and blues, though He could never be sure. Maybe He wasn’t so far from developing a taste for country after all. He shivered at the thought. she mistook it for cold and nuzzled into His arm. He had almost forgotten she was there, sitting beside Him on the shockingly well-conditioned outdoor couch. The adorable little minx was as much accessory or appendage as she was adjacent. He knew she reveled in this fact. Delighting in the arm at least as much as the candy. In every possible sense of the phrase, He had always handled her better than anyone. Better than anyone ever could, as far as she was concerned.

As the night unfurled, they took turns walking up the long lawn and getting each other drinks from the cozy kitchen through the rear door of the dimly lit house. It was forest green, though one would never know so in the brisk dark of the night. she would have eagerly gotten every single one, but He would be damned if he’d allow His dominance to get in the way of being a gentleman. That would be rude. And a gentleman is never rude. Except on purpose.

Somewhere near midway through the night, the seats around the fire began to shuffle and trade. He always enjoyed instigating this mix-up of otherwise stationary parties. No matter how compelling the conversation, He couldn’t risk stagnancy. However, tonight, someone had beaten Him to His little drink-stirring maneuver. A damn good group this one. He recalled how He once heard that the healthiest conversations were those in which each participant felt comfortable changing the topic. A fact He liked to casually drop early within them so as to engender exactly such a comfortability. This shoehorned little factoid was unnecessary with this crew. The ethos was already on display in spades. Despite these musical chairs, she had not left His arm. Social and conversational butterfly though she was, He knew her nervousness was currently the first to get her tongue.

They enjoyed staying stationary and allowing the exuberant laughter and conversation to come to them. A welcome change of pace from their recent, less invigorating encounters. He was unsurprised to notice who beat Him to the punch on His maneuver. she had mentioned his eyes on the car ride home last time. Velvet, she had called them. Or perhaps He was imagining that Himself, catching them reflect a lick of flame from across the fire as he sat captivated in conversation with one of the stunning young hostesses. She didn’t audibly laugh, but only because she was caught in the simmering quiet of the more intimate tête-à-tête he had pulled her into. The smile never left her crinkling nose.

he was sizable and handsome in a long, lithe, strong-featured way. his hair was thinly woven into well-kept, shoulder-length locks. There was an air of aesthetic honesty to him, and he was dressed with casual intentionality. And his eyes. Real or imagined, velvet had indeed been the perfect descriptor. This might just be the man He had been looking for, He thought. Though, to say man is almost too strong. he couldn’t have been more than twenty-six. Nearly a decade shy of both Him and her. Though He knew she would fear that youth a flaw, it could just as easily be a feature. As could her apprehension about it if properly wielded against her. Not always, but often, He knew her better than she knew herself. And He deeply enjoyed prodding her with this fact. Forcing her right up to the edge of her comfort zone and either encouraging her to admire the view from atop its cliff’s edge or dangling her over it by a fistful of her flawless, curly red hair. In this instance, as in so many others, He trusted His gut. When it came to her repressed lust, His intuition was rarely wrong. The slut.

He bided His time, watching those amber eyes from across the fire, waiting for the right moment to make His move and initiate the conversation He had been rehearsing in His head all evening. It was only a matter of time before he would need a drink and reluctantly pull himself away from the hostess to get one. Unless, perhaps, he had that same sway to silently entice her into service that He had mastered. But no. Of course he didn’t. he was just a young gun, and that command was reserved for those with a tad more savvy.

As anticipated, before long, he hopped up and began his jaunt to the kitchen. He turned and gave her a kiss on the cheek. Shocking her out of the conversation she was having to His side with a charmingly mismatched couple and a pair of amusingly self-aware post-grads. His focus had been elsewhere, but as far as He could tell, the duo was enjoying some shameless gamesmanship for her attention. He hardly blamed them. she was a goddess. Anything less would border on blasphemy. And all the better. Whatever played into His hand, however subtly, was a welcomed priming of her mind. Though one would think she would have grown more than accustomed to it by now, male attention often made her uncomfortable. At least, in situations like this it did. Moments in which she was rightly wary of His motives. Smooch planted, He rose to feel the fire and brush off a chill. He watched His mark take the steps of the back porch in twos and unhurriedly followed his path up the grass, content to eventually take them one at a time.

He stood alone in the kitchen, admiring its understated charm. A perusal of the book shelf in the adjacent living room revealed a smattering of sci-fi, fantasy, poetry, and philosophy. Definitely His people. Eventually, whistling footfalls from the front hallway. That was His cue. He returned to the kitchen just as he entered.

“Hey!” he started.

“Hey there.”

“Glad to see you here again. We talked all about you two after you left last time.” he smirked. “Enjoying the fire?”

The sly, inviting playfulness in his tone was perfectly calibrated. Almost subtle enough to go unnoticed. Flawlessly plausibly deniable.

“Of course.” He smiled sincerely, practically surprised to remember that He was. The fire was the furthest thing from His mind.

“Awesome.”

A flash of an awkward silence as he inferred an air of purpose in His narrowed gaze. Someone barked a laugh outside.

“Have you known the hostesses long?”

“Oh, a year or two. Actually, I met them around the time…”

It was wise to entertain some more of his casual conversation like this. Better to both feel him out and build a rapport before simply extending the offer of a lifetime. Plus, He had to be sure that he had the mettle. Such an offer would be a tragedy to waste on someone unsuited to the task. Especially with a pair of rival candidates emerging back at the fire. “Both could be interesting.” He thought. But no. That was an intrigue for another time. Tonight, He would stay focused on His plan. And plus, this conversation was becoming less cursory and more compelling by the minute. Though He was doing less of the talking, He was pleased to see the vigor of His opponent. Opponent. It was a funny way to conceptualize him. Especially given the context of His plot. But his air of flirtatious confidence toed the line of arrogance so impressively. His grin betrayed grudging respect. This was His man.

“…and the atmosphere is super cool.” he began to finish “Best cocktails in the city. You should take her there sometime. she would love it.”

“I’m sure she would. In fact, if you have another minute or two, I would like to propose something rather delicate to you.”

“…What kind of something?”

A satisfied breath.

“Another something she would love.”

They arrived back at the fire in lockstep but not conversation. A detail not lost on her. He plopped down and greeted her warmly with another smooch and a firm, borderline-possessive arm around the shoulders. she leaned in, acutely aware of His steady grip as he reclaimed His seat beside the eager hostess. she was glad to once again lounge into Him. The vying for her attention had gotten to be a bit nettling, though the two students, now playfully continuing their intellectual sparring purely for sport, were handsome enough.

Though she was glad to have Him back, somehow His sinking into contented listening was unnerving. The last time they were here, He was practically stewarding the damn conversation. she couldn’t stop wondering where and why His typical affability had gone. And then there was him. Fuck, those eyes. And his skin. she inwardly chastised herself for even noticing it. Though she hated the thought of fetishizing someone, she hated the moralizing concept more. Beauty was beaty. A failure to honestly appreciate all its facets was exactly that. A failure. she couldn’t help but notice that, despite the instant rededication of the hostesses’ focus, he appeared somehow less engaged in their sidebar. They still spoke in their murmur, but she seemingly failed to hold his attention as before.

As she ponderingly gazed into the flames, she caught a flicker of something beyond them.

Fuck.

she was immediately struck with equal parts hair-raising terror and trembling thrill. he was unmistakably stealing glances at her through the fire. her body tensed from head to toe.

“Do you remember the script?” He asked.

“Yes.”

“Good. Repeat it to me.”

A breath. her cheek stung. Her throat felt dry, her lips pressing together as she searched for the next words, feeling the weight of His gaze settle heavily on her.

“Yes Sir. I am…”

her voice wavered slightly. she swallowed.

“I am to tell him that I am a free use whore.”

“…”

she shifted beneath His glare.

“A gift … to be used as his pleasure object.”

“…”

God, she hated this. (God, she loved it.)

“…And that you’re looking for someone.”

“Yes. And who are you to tell him I’m looking for?”

Her breathing quickened in her chest as He led her through this bit.

A deep one before answering.

“An equal.”

“An equal… or?”

she didn’t want to say it. A slap alleviated the tension in that unscripted silence.

“A better.” she whispered, wincing at the thought.

“Good girl.” He growled with smoldering satisfaction.

As the night wore on, she gave herself to the drink. Nowhere near enough to compromise her mental clarity and self-control, but enough to melt away her goddamn anxiousness. Why had she even been anxious in the first place? she was a grown ass woman. No stupid boy was going to get her all in a tizzy. Not even one with such a domineering physique and such fucking adorable, enticing, infuriatingly velvety eyes. Nope. Not her. Those two-and-a-half additional drinks had been exactly the right amount she proudly nodded to herself as she gracefully traipsed up the steps to the porch on her little adventure to the loo, arms extended like an airplane for both balance and whimsy.

From the comfort of the least and most practical couch, He unblinkingly watched her enter the house, the faint crackle of the bonfire mingling with laughter and the rustling leaves in the night air. The party had shuffled, and the conversation had lulled a tad by now, but for Him, it might as well have entirely melted away. He took a deep breath, feeling the warmth of the fire on His face, and shifted His gaze to the upstairs corner window. Its light flicked on.

Having completed her mission, she waltzed down the hall and rationalized oneee more drink. All things in moderation, including moderation. And, after all, the fridge was right there. Blissfully unaware, she stepped into the kitchen and opened its door. Perusing the selection, she bent forward at the waist to get a better look. In her giddy lilt, she hadn’t noticed his quietly threatening presence at the corner table. In fact, she hummed and perused the selection in sweet obliviousness for so long that he had time to slowly sit up, stand and marvel at this fine angle of her hourglass figure, stalk across the kitchen, casually lower himself to her level, catch the intoxicating scent of her hair, and whisper in her ear.

she might have jumped out of her skin, had she not frozen.

“Upstairs. Bedroom at the far end of the hall. Twenty minutes.”

she heard and felt the door to the porch thud shut behind her before she moved a muscle.

He continued to sit, pleased with Himself, but He stopped short of luxuriating in it. He had played His part of the first act, but the evening was far from over. The rear door of the house thumped shut and He watched him descend the steps. As he reapproached the fire, he chose a chair slightly away from the larger group. He searched for any sign of a tell on his face and saw none. he wouldn’t even make eye contact. Only the searing, ember stare of what seemed like determination. Perhaps also nerves. He chuckled to Himself at the thought. The young buck better sort those out quickly if he was going to prove himself in the way He hoped he might. Though, with a physique like that, he may not need to. Plus, her psychological surrender was already overdetermined.

Right on cue, the rear door to the house was again pulled open and shut, this time more timidly. she descended, tightly strided back to her seat beside Him, and sat in a quiet, compact chill. From across the blaze, she worriedly joined him staring into the cinders, but only for a fleeting moment while she collected her thoughts and her breath. she gazed up at Him, silently pleading into His eyes. He met them with an unspoken resolve. A wordless reiteration of His command. she swallowed, sighed, returned her focus to the coals, and rested her head on His strong, soft shoulder. He was dreadfully warm. she breathed Him in. He radiated safety. she knew what she was to do. And for the first time all night, perhaps the first time ever, she finally admitted to herself how deeply she lusted to.

When the time came for her to go, he had somehow long since snuck away. Neither one had seen him leave, absorbed in each other as they were. she was somewhere between a bundle of nerves and a puddle when she finally worked up the courage to stand and go. A few shaky steps away and she was already wilting under the weight of her fright. she stopped, turned, and in a flash was back in front of Him, sinking down for a deep, sensual kiss. That turned more than a couple of heads. Finally pulling up, she saw the smoldering glow of love and resolve in His eyes. All her anxiety melted away. she no longer feared her task. Instead, she mindfully arrived in the moment and wholly embraced the opportunity to please Him. And him. The opportunity to please them both. Beautifully, paradoxically, she was at once fully embodied and utterly vacant. she had been reduced to a vessel of pleasure, and, at that instant, it was all she wanted to be. she understood what she was for.

she sashayed the length of the long lawn. No one watched her go. They were all worse for it. she glided up the steps, through the door, into the kitchen. The door closed silently behind her. she strolled through the room and pivoted a graceful hand atop the ornate wooden baluster at the base of the stairs as she curved up and began her ascent. Thumping. At the switchback of the midway landing, she turned and caught her first glimpse of the door at the far end of the hall. Despite the sudden effortlessness and singularity of her purpose and desire, her body was ablaze with anticipation as she ascended. her hands gripped the rails on either side. her footfalls, precise and perfectly rhythmic, seemed as though they carried her without volition. Deterministically. her heart felt like it had floated up to the jugular notch at the ridge of her breastbone and it was beating wildly. her pussy was suddenly so swollen that it was practically aching.

The fourteen (exactly fourteen) steps from the staircase to the door had felt like an eternity, and yet, somehow, they were now done. The hallway was extensively adorned in mirrors of every variety. she had not glanced at one. she both knew exactly how she looked and didn’t care.

A final closed-eyed breath at the threshold.

The same graceful hand on the doorknob, she twisted, she pushed, she entered.

Someone offered Him a beer. He smiled and accepted it warmly. The fire crackled a miniature explosion of sparks which sent half the gathering scattering. He didn’t even flinch.

The copper room was dimly lit. There were wooden dressers and a wardrobe to one side, a heavily pillowed bed draped with a crimson duvet to the center, and to the other side… she was seized from behind before she could finish scanning the décor. Despite her sudden shock, this was more than fine with her. A jolt ran down her spine and she felt a rush in her already wet pussy. With a muscular arm cradling her neck, a powerful hand immobilizing her lower abdomen, and his already stiff cock throbbing into her back, she forgot all about the layout and decoration of the space. she thought only of her purpose. Not her boundless, multifaceted purpose, but her beautifully reduced, aching vacancy. her surrender.

“You’re exactly one minute late.” he quietly threatened.

“I had to momentarily turn back.” she sweetly whispered in protest.

“And you have the audacity to object. It’s quite early for you to have two strikes. But that’s OK. You’ll be punished accordingly. Let’s hope you don’t see three, brat.”

“Yes, sir.”

“I’m told you have something to tell me.”

“Yes, sir.”

she recited the script.

he listened to the last bit with a sudden intrigue that somehow outshone everything else from his already titillating night.

“And what if I’m equal to the task?”

“…Then maybe He’ll allow you to use me again (and again and again…)” she prayed.

he threw her face down on the bed.

From outside, He stared at the window. The overhead light flicked off, leaving only the dim, amber glow of something lower. More waist-level. Something bedside. He imagined that’s where he would start. Demand the little plaything suck his cock. That’s what He would do. Hang that pretty head off the edge of the bed and see how well her throat had been trained. Very fucking well. He had seen to that. Though she still had much to learn about how to take all of Him, she was keen and determined. Good, giving, and game. The perfect little whore.

He alleviated a slight, growing tension with an exhale and a shift back to the fire and conversation, both of which had picked up a bit. Bed of coals solidly built, the dugout brazier was now radiating enough warmth to keep everyone in its radius comfortable. He stared into its glow for quite a time. Long enough to utterly lose Himself.

The party carelessly flowed with a blithe, dreamlike buoyancy. Someone added logs to the fire.

she moaned into the pillow to keep quiet. If not for its muffling, everyone would surely know. she raised her head for a few wild, panting gasps. she didn’t know exactly how but, one way or another, she was going to break. How long had he been using her like this? God, it was so good. he was so good. And so fucking big. she had deceived herself into believing she hated size like his, for fear of what embracing the truth might imply. Here and now, she could no longer maintain such illusions. Not to herself, and certainly not to him. she dare not lie to him. Not even through her incoherent, muted wailing. he had laid her bare before herself and she absolutely loved it. How he violently stretched her, powerfully stroking the deepest reaches of her pulsing pussy, pushing her to and through her previous, shamefully self-imposed limits. No longer.

“Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck…” she gritted to the rhythm of his forceful, unrelenting pounding.

Pleasure and pain, mind and body – she was fully present, she was fully enthralled, and she was going to fucking break. No sooner had she come up for air than he pressed her back down with a single strong hand to the back of the neck. In a desperate thrust to surrender more deeply, she summoned and ignited her final spurt of unrelinquished will, arched her back, raised her ass, and presented his pussy to him that much more freely. That much more submissively. Beads of sweat dripped past his villainous grin as he felt her eagerly yield, spreading and pushing herself up to concede to his brutalizing. To relinquish every shred of control and unconditionally welcome it. To submit to him. And to submit to Him. The obedient little fuck doll was going to make him cum again. Helplessly pinned and rammed back into the cushion, He broke her.

she cried out. No one heard.

The sharpness of a laugh brought Him back. He glanced up to see the hostesses sensually leaning into each other, giggling, and making eyes at Him. They shrunk as He met their gaze, but they didn’t stop their drunken chuckling. Hey imagined they knew. Perhaps they had witnessed His orchestration and were giddily hoping to be the next target of His plotting. If they weren’t careful, they just might be.

He glanced back up at the window. Shadows danced across the walls. He studied them, feeling a flicker of satisfaction mixed with something else – a tightening He couldn’t quite name.

He stared for countless minutes. Just when He thought He could nearly make out a faint rhythm in the shifting and swaying, there would be a scattered flash of darkness and things would resettle on another inscrutable cadence. Twice, He thought He heard her. It was faint, but He knew what He was listening for. No one else seemed to notice.

He had half a mind to march up the lawn, up the stairs, down the hall and kick the goddamn door in. What for, He couldn’t be sure. Perhaps to kill him. Perhaps to take her and force him to watch how it’s fucking done. Perhaps to see if he needed no such instruction. Perhaps to slap her around for the nerve of her desire and compliance. Perhaps to simply join in and help him finish the job. He settled on none and simply continued to watch, imagining the abuse she must be blissfully suffering.

He had told him how she liked to be treated. Like a toy. Like a whore. Once he understood the proposition, he had been keen to learn. He told him how the toy was not allowed to cum unless given permission. How she was to do as she was told and to be punished, however harshly, if she disobeyed. This went on for a short while. As he grasped the infinite, spherical shape and size of his leeway, he asked more probing questions and requested more shocking permissions. his inquisitive boldness earned him canny answers and endless approvals. Well. Save one. he was not allowed to fuck her ass.

That was His.

He said their goodbyes while she waited in the car. she was exhausted, He told them. And she was. Just not in the sense they assumed. One by one He went around shaking hands and sharing hugs, trying His best to remember the names a bit better this time. The mismatched couple smiled warmly. The amusing students made a few parting jokes. Various others wished Him well. The hostesses hugged Him closely. One began to whisper something but was quickly swatted by the other. Though His curiosity was piqued, He gladly settled for overstated adieus and lingering hands on shoulders and waists.

Finally ready to go, He turned to see him sitting atop the stairs, smoking something He couldn’t place. He walked most of the way up the grass and stopped. They met eyes. First, they simply shared a silence. Then a nod. Then a grin.

He walked to the car.

The drive home was as quiet as the drive there had been. she laid her head on His shoulder the whole way. The brisk air of the open windows whirled her hair like a bellows, while the ambient noise of the rushing wind drowned out the rest of the world. she felt flushed and softened. Not bodily, though He would soon find that out. Dispositionally. she was still lost in it. He imagined her replaying it in her mind’s eye and the implications of so doing. Perhaps she was remembering every angle, every thrust. Maybe she was thinking how she lost count after the sixth or seventh time he allowed her to cum. There was a chance she was dissatisfied with the whole experience. But no. He didn’t sense that at all. she was far too content. In any case, He would know exactly how satisfied she was soon enough. The hum of the tires on the pavement filled the silence between them, a constant, low rhythm that somehow felt heavier now.

Once back home and in bed, He flicked out the lights. No words were spoken. Though they had never played this out before, she knew the next and final step as well as He did.

she submitted herself to Him and He took her.

No time was wasted with foreplay. The entire night had been that. she was as wet as He had ever felt her and, for the first time, He wondered how many times he had pumped her full. Had she let him get away without condoms? The choice had been hers. Maybe that’s what He was feeling now, the cum slut. Maybe it was simply the complete, impassioned surrender of her body to Him. Either way, almost immediately, He intensified His thrusting. Not His pace, but His weight. Just as with foreplay, He hadn’t wasted a moment on considering positions. He simply propped a pillow under her pelvis, mounted her from behind, and began pounding her worn, tight pussy. she lightly heaved out moans with each loaded thrust. she was clearly trying to suppress them, but there was no universe where He didn’t plow everything out of her.

she was euphoric to be back in His relentlessly capable, unconditionally loving hands. In every possible sense of the phrase, He had always handled her better than anyone. As she got closer and closer, she implored Him to let her cum. He refused at every turn. A marked change of pace from the rest of her evening. she couldn’t stop, she pleaded. He hammered away as if He didn’t hear her. she was going to cum.

“fuck. fuck. fuck. fuck. fuck…” again. This time, somehow differently.

He was filling every inch of her, and she was already so so sore. The pain almost outweighed the pleasure. Almost. she opened her mouth to beg, but her voice broke off in a soft whimper as His grip tightened, silencing her plea before it could fully form.

But she couldn’t stay quiet forever. she begged. He refused. she begged. He refused. she begged and begged and begged and He only pinned her face and fucked her harder for it. Eventually, in one great motion, she seized from under Him and cried out their safe word. There was no other way to stop it. she was going to cum and she dare not disobediently do so without His approval.

“…Good girl.”

she panted in a huddled, soaking heap. He cradled her. As He did, she felt the strength of His hold but sensed a question in it too.

Once He was sure she was ready for more, He repositioned her on her back, flexed at the waist and splayed, with one ankle gripped firmly in either hand. she did not object. He knew she was as hungry as He for what was next. It was plainly written all over her gorgeous, exhausted, yearning face. They locked eyes.

Already slick from her still-sopping pussy, He gently slid His cock into her eager little ass hole. He went slowly at first, but it didn’t take her long to be ready to take all of Him. The tramp had been so thoroughly used she was nearly spent. They both sensed it and they both loved it. It was what she was for and, in that moment, as He fucked her ass, they both felt it in their bones. They had never been so close. He moved her legs to His shoulders and loomed over her, cupping her face in His hands as she curled up to take Him in. He quickened His pumping. Gaze unbroken, they met nose-to-nose.

Through labored breathing, she pleaded again. This time, He not only let her cum, He made her. her breath hitched into staccato wincing as she came and came and came still. He had never seen her cum so hard or so long. she quaked as she stared into His blazing eyes. As He approached climax, He finally asked.

There, under the loving violence of His pounding inquisition, through her shaking, orgasmic mumbling, she told Him.

What, you ask?

The truth.