I was his toy. There was no other explanation than that. He used me, but personally, I enjoyed it. I enjoyed the way he threw me around and fucked me roughly. Call me a masochist, because I personally thought I was one too.
He didn't love me, this was obvious to me at least. Of course, I loved him. The first time we met, we were considered a couple. We would buy coffee and chat for a while, to get to know each other. Although on my part I considered it as the two of us getting to know each other, he considered it as luring me into his strong but abusive arms. His warm touch was so new to me the first time we fucked. Of course it was fucking; we never made love. For the love I felt for him was not mutual.
I was sure there must have even been other girls he took before and after my "sessions" with him. I never stayed over whenever we had our "appointment." Whether it was 1 pm in the morning or just 6 in the evening, immediately once we were done (or when he was done) I slipped my clothes back on and wobbled out of his house to my car.
I cummed only when he told me I could cum. Even if it meant holding it in for an hour after I should have released it. But when he did let me cum, I came hard. It would spill out of me, coating his desirable cock with my sex-juices and spilling out on to the white sheets of his bed, tangled around us in the aftermath of his strong fucking.
At night, I would even dream about him. In my dreams, I didn't call him Master like I did whenever I was actually, physically with him in reality. I would call him by his real name, well, at least... the name he gave me the first day we met. I would dream about him kissing me tenderly, like he did anyways, but his cock would be moving slowly inside of me, cherishing the moment as we made love; yes in my dreams, we were making love, not just pure fucking. I always wished this was the case in real life. This was not, however.
He was tall. 6 feet 2 inches, possibly. His muscles were well defined, and his stomach was flat and he had a perfect pack of abs. He was very beautiful with his shoulder-length brown hair and warm, sky blue eyes. His smile was brilliant, but it was rare for me to see his smile. He usually had the room darkened, but by chance that I did see his smile, it was only if I rode him better than any night I had in months. This would happen about once or twice every sixth months.
It was an average day. I was coming to his house once again, after a few weeks while he was on vacation in the Bahamas. I wished he had asked me to go with him... But of course he would not. For he did not love me, like I said already...
I wore a prettier dress today, however. It was red and sparkling and fit me snug. It was a strapless dress, and the zip was in the back. As for the bra I wore, it was lacey, red to match my dress, and snapped in the front like usual. I wore no underwear, also as usual.
The heels were short, possibly an inch, and they matched my dress too. I hoped he liked my outfit tonight because if he didn't... I would be wrecked. I would never leave him, of course, but I would enjoy being fucked yet in tears.
Ringing the doorbell on his, I heard him calling from inside: "Come in, Kara."
That was my name.
I did as he said; the door was unlocked.
I walked in and the room was dark. Everything in his house was dark.
"Where are you?" I called to him.
"Upstairs, where else?" I heard him growl.
He wasn't in a good mood. Even as my Master and my fucker, he almost always talked to me tenderly; kindly. This day was an exception.
I was slightly disappointed that he didn't meet me at the door, which he did sometimes. He wouldn't be able to see my matching heels... Master always made me take off my shoes before I left the foyer.
Tip-toeing upstairs, I found his room even in almost pitch-darkness. It was a second home to me, I guess you could say.
"Master?" I called to him quietly.
He grunted quietly.
I walked in, only to see the room lit up by two candles on either side of the bed. The strength of the light, however, was enough to illuminate his delicious figure. He was in bed, his waist-up exposed, and his hands were behind his head. This was also unusual. I usually let him take me "by surprise" when I walked in; he would be hiding behind the door and touch me from behind.
I usually never asked him questions, but I had never seen him in such a bad mood before.
"Master? Are you...alright?" I asked boldly.
He grunted again, and as I closed and locked the door behind us, he finally got up out from under the covers. His naked body was beautiful, as usual. He walked over to me with no smile, but instead a fierce expression on his face. I stood absolutely still when his hands reached out to touch me. He caressed my shoulders and forearms with gentle strokes, something that usually did not happen first.
My breathing was still becoming ragged just by his touch. It always did this.
Master looked at me intently, as though he was trying to read a very hard-to-decipher book.
"Are you well?" I basically repeated.
He didn't answer. His hands found my zipper and roughly pulled the dress down.
Seeing my half-naked figure did not even appease him the slightest. The stern expression never left his face. His hands went to the front of my bra and quickly unsnapped the front, throwing it aside.
I was pulled into a rough kiss immediately, and his hands crept to my ass and picked me up, carrying me to his bed. We never went immediately to his bed. This was new, too. He would usually close my eyelids very carefully with the tips of his fingers and leave me for a moment to grab a ball gag. He would put it in my mouth and shove his fingers roughly into my pussy. Then once I had orgasmed at his command, he would take me to his bed and beat me, pinch me, grope me roughly in ways I loved and hated at the same time.
"I dressed up for you... I thought you'd like it," I bravely told him. His hands grabbed my shoulders roughly, barely missing my pressure points, and shoved me on to his mattress. I gasped, looking away from him, for I was afraid he was going to slap me for speaking out.
"You're more beautiful without any clothes," he grumbled, and I watched him grab an object from his nightstand.
It was a dildo, no surprise. I braced myself as he slammed it into my pussy, and cried out quietly in case he was even in a bad mood for my sex cries. He did slap the side of my ass, and I cried out again.
He was fucking me roughly with that fake cock, and I wished so badly that it was really his own. Too bad he didn't...well, I've gone over this concept enough.
"Master, something's wrong," I asked. "I'm worried."
He ignored me.
He was pumping that fake penis in and out of me, naturally arousing me, and I whimpered as I bucked my hips and arched my back up to him.
His lips attacked one of my large mounds, attaching his teeth on to my nipple. I cried and shook with euphoria. This was the Master I knew and loved.
His tongue circled and nipped at my peeked nipple, and then he switched to the other one. I was thrusting into the dildo now, wanting more; wanting him.
"Master--! I-I'm-! I'm about to-!" but I couldn't finish.
I always gave him a warning before I was on the verge of exploding. For some reason, I have much less willpower tonight than any other night.
He grunted, slowing down the dildo inside of me.
"Go ahead," he mumbled.
My eyes shot open, and I watched as he lowered his head back down to my breasts and kissed me all over my chest. His pumping continued, and finally I arched into his touch and climaxed all over the fake cock.
He groaned and pulled it out of me.
I was panting now, but my arousal had not nearly affected my master.
"Something's wrong, Master," I observed, repeating myself.
He slapped my shoulder and I gasped at the stinging.
"Yes, of course there's something wrong! Drop it," he growled, and I obeyed his neck order when he stuck his cock in my face.
It was stiff and beautiful, and long and throbbing. I loved the look of it, and eagerly took him into my mouth. He groaned my name, another something he did not usually do. However, he pumped my mouth as usual, and I would suck on him to prolong the pleasure as much as I could. He continued, his grunting getting louder and more common and his panting increasing. I saw a glistening bead of sweat trickle from above his temple down to his ear, and to his jaw.
I touched his jaw lightly with my fingers, and surprisingly, he leaned into my touch.
I moaned, sending vibrations on to his cock as he continued to fuck my mouth, and the speed and intensity of his oral fucking grew significantly.
"Suck on me harder!" he ordered gruffly, and I did. My tongue roamed his cock, up and down the shaft and sucking on it when he would thrust into my mouth. I sucked on it when he was pulling out, too, to give it a feel of resistance; perhaps what it felt like to him when he fucked my pussy.
The slight slurping noises came from the wetness of my mouth and the wetness of his cock, and the slapping of skin to skin was evident as well. I cried out when he finally came into my mouth, spilling his wonderful semen into my not-worthy throat. I drank him up, naturally, for I loved the taste of my Master in my throat.
He pulled his cock from my mouth, but not after I sucked on the head a bit more to rid him of all existing semen; for the moment.
He sat above me still, for a moment. When I least expected it, he grabbed me and turned me over. I gasped.
I criedd out when he thrust his cock into my ass, impaling but pleasuring me. I tried to move; I tried to buck my hips, but he held me down and fucked me roughly, once again spilling himself into me once he was finished.
This was unusual behavior for my master. He rarely even gave me the joys of anal sex. I was exhausted now, just by laying there.
Yet before I knew it, we switched positions, so that now I was straddling him. Again, his cock was hard (for the third time). I knew what he wanted, and I tortured him a bit, slipping the head of his cock in and out of my pussy numerous times, as though I was considering whether or not to ride him; it always drove him completely nuts. Then finally, Master would give up on his weakness, grab my hips, and thrust me down on to his cock. I would take in all nine inches of him, and my hands would fall down on his chest as though searching for something to grab and hold on to.
Then he would make his order and I began riding him.
I gave him no mercy; tonight I wanted to show him how exactly much I loved it when he fucked me and I got the pleasure to fuck him. He slapped my ass and I cried out. He stuck his fingers in my ass while I was still pumping his cock, and I squirmed momentarily stopping my humping as he moved his fingers in and out of my sperm-covered as. I rode his fingers for a while, while his cock was still stiff inside of me, and then he pulled out and I resumed riding him.
"Master!" I screamed, nearing my, possibly fourth, orgasm. He grunted, still looking away from me.
But I dared to grasp his chin in my fingers and pull his face to look at me. When I did, I received a shocked response. I had never done this before, so naturally it was amusing to him. Then I lowered my mouth to his and we kissed passionately.
It lasted for moments, for he quickly broke the kiss and flipped me over, tired of me being dominant over him.
Then the best part: he would start fucking me. He did, but for some reason it was like in my dreams. I don't know whether I had worn him out, but this was unusual because it took longer for him to wear out usually. When he pumped my pussy with his hard, desirable cock, he went slowly at first. Bringing his mouth back to mine, we kissed like lovers for once, and when he forced his tongue into my mouth, he allowed our bodies to battle one another for dominance, as his lithe strokes competed against my strong bucks and his tongue competed with mine for dominance.
He never treated me like this. It was different; it was euphoric. I was sure to orgasm soon, whether he wanted me to or not.
Gradually gaining speed, Master was pumping in and out of me faster and faster but still carefully and he was still kissing me tenderly like we were actual bedmates; like I wasn't his toy and he wasn't my master.
"Master!" I cried to him again, bucking very hard because my uncontrollable lust for him was taking over my body.
My nails dug into his shoulders as I tried to control myself, and I buried my face in the crook of his neck; he usually never let me do this. When the building of my orgasm was complete and I was sure to burst, I cried out "Master!" again and my hands scrambled over his smooth, perfectly muscled back helplessly.
"Let it out, Kara. Let it out," he told me all too tenderly.
I screamed at the top of my lungs in ecstasy as I poured out my orgasm; the biggest I had made for a long time.
For the first time, as Master released his sperm inside of my belly, I heard him...moan.
He moaned my name again as he continued to pump into me; relieving him of his orgasm fluids. He moaned my name again...and again... and with pleasure I had never heard from him before.
His body soon fell on to mine, but as I was about to get up (for I knew our "session" today was over) he grabbed my waist and held me up against him. His cock softened inside of me, and yet he still did not let me leave.
"Master? Master, something is wrong. I'm begging you to tell me," I almost cried with concern, but was slightly distracted while his hands kneaded my breasts and tweaked at my painfully hard nipples.
My mouth opened with a silent scream when he began fingering my clit, for this was as unusual as the rest of today.
"I am madly in love with the girl I fuck nearly every day," he admitted.
I was on the verge of tears.
"There is another girl? Oh...well she's a very fortunate girl t-to be-! To be loved by-! B-by y-you," I hiccupped, cursed by my tears. I tried to hide my face and the stirring inside of me, and the ache in my heart.
But I heard him groan and he grabbed my chin and pulled my face back toward his. He kissed me deeply; passionately.
"She's really the only girl I have eyes for, Kara. Every day I fuck her, and yet I wish sometimes we were just two people making love. Yet she comes to me every day, wearing such elegant and sexy outfits that are a shame to be ripped to pieces with my animalistic lust for her. And she gives me the feeling of so much power," he sighed, and I bit my lower lip to stop from crying.
"She must treat you w-well...th-then... she-she's the l-lu-luckiest g-girl t-to be lo-loved b-by y-you," I stuttered through tears. I tried to keep myself calm and composed, but clearly he did not fall for this.
"Kara, why are you crying?" he asked me quietly.
I bit my finger to try and stop the crying, but then a cry of pleasure erupted from my throat when he stuck two fingers into my pussy while his other hand caressed my cheek.
"B-Because...I-I know i-it can't p-pos-possibly b-be me whom you are t-talking a-bout..."
And suddenly I heard him laugh.
"I-I'm sorry... I-I've spoken too much, ha-haven't I, M-Master?" I mumbled, and he suddenly kissed me.
His tongue rolled into my mouth and I sighed into his kiss. Oh, how I wished I was that girl!
And he surprised me with his words:
"You are that girl, Kara. You are the girl I am madly in love with; that I fuck nearly every day. There is not another girl I see, you must know this. Oh, you silly girl! I have eyes for only you, my Kara. I wish, I so so wish, that you love me back," he told me.
I gasped, but partially because of his clever fingers that flicked and fidgetted while still inside of me, and I squirmed and bucked at his touch.
"I-I thought-! I thought I was just your toy, Master," I mumbled to him.
He sighed, kissing my neck now, and then lower, and then his mouth was on my breast again.
I sighed with newly built-up desire for him.
"You were never a toy to me. You are wrong to think I ever just had you for the past three years because I wanted someone to fuck; because I wanted to pleasure myself. You are wrong to think that. You are wrong to think I am using you," he scolded me.
I nodded, sniffling. He kissed away the trails of tears down my cheeks, licking the salty liquid from my face and then very gently kissing my eyelids. His lips moved down to mine now, and he kissed me very tenderly; very passionately.
This was a side I did not know my Master had. I thought he was just my Master.
"I know I am wrong... I am wrong about many things, Master," I told him, so used to pleasing him with insulting myself.
"Yes you are. Especially about being just my toy. If I wanted to please myself, Kara, I would stick that fake cock up my ass. I would jack myself and suck my own penis if I wished for a toy. You; I thought you were more than that. But apparently you have been led to think otherwise," he observed.
I nodded, and he kissed the newly-forming tears away from my eyes. These were tears of joys, however.
"I am not your toy, Master? Can we be lovers than? And not just 'fuck buddies' like I was led to think we were?" I whimpered.
He kissed me again, a smile on his lips. I took this as a yes.
There would be no more fucking. There would be no more pleasing him because I thought he just wanted to be pleased.
Tonight we made love.