My property’s orgasms belong to me. It’s that simple. She relinquished that power the moment you consented to this Master/slave dynamic. I edge her for days just to make her squirt halfway across the room. I force her into an endless string of orgasms because wearing her out makes me smile and she loves it. Seeing her motionless and babbling gibberish brings me joy. I admit this power corrupts me. I stumble through the streets at night, shouting in a slurred speech, “Fear my wrath!” My tyrannical rule knows no limit. Rebels will have to drag my corpse from the presidential palace before I surrender control. For example, today I noticed a list of chores my property wanted to finish. I rewrote the list to include all the places I expected her to finger fuck herself:

- Grocery shopping
- Orgasm in the bathroom. Think about me kissing you with my hand on your throat
- Get a dress for sister's wedding
- Orgasm in the dressing room, thinking about a hot stranger coming in and you sucking his cock (or eating her pussy).
- Get the car washed.
- Use the drive-through and orgasm before you get all the way through. Imagine I’m in the car. You straddle me, move your panties to the side and fuck me like a good little slut.
- Do the laundry.
- Lean against the dryer and imagine I have you bent over with my cock deep in your ass as the vibrations send you into an orgasm.

My property returns home from chores and stumbles across the living room carpet. She passes me without speaking. I watch her put the groceries away, unable to handle more than one item at a time. She steadies herself, grasping for the granite counter. Her legs wobble. 

All around town, my property stashed my orgasms like slutty Easter eggs. I conjure images where the next woman to use the restroom at the grocery store or the changing room at the mall feels them. They stop in their tracks, touching their neck, trying to figure out why the temperature suddenly spiked. 

The echoes of my orgasms hide behind my property’s eyes. They reside beneath her flesh. I slip my hand under her skirt and those echoes grow. Their vibrations infect me as my fingers ease into her cunt. The wetness she accumulated throughout the day drips down my wrist. I unzip my fly and reach into my pants with the hand covered in her juices. Bending her over the counter, I use my cock to search for that wet spot. Her pussy wraps tight around me. She’s on the verge of cumming. I want her stuck on the edge for another minute- maybe keep her there for another hour or just until she faints.  

“Please, may I cum?” my property begs.

The devil in me needs to deny her. I thrust in and out and smack her ass, jolting her body. The sadist in me wants to feel her suffering. I hold her face on the granite smushing her cheek and lips together as if they've offended me, rearranging her into a pathetic slutty mess. “I own you, whore.” I remind her apropos of nothing but my dick splitting her in half. The Master in me wants her to worship the ground under my feet, grateful I blessed her with my ownership. She crumbles with each pump of my cock. I’m as deep as my anatomy permits. If I want to get deeper, I need to grab her ass. I need to cover her mouth, to grip her throat. Each act stretches me and adds to my girth until I occupy all her empty space. 

I pull her hair arching her spine. I push her shirt up and pull down her bra. I squeeze her tits. I fuck and I fuck as if she’s something I used to love but now hate. Out of the blue, by surprise, she loses control. I pivot her head, forcing her to look at me. I see it in her eyes when she accidentally passes that threshold. Her face sinks. Her mouth opens. And while that orgasm washes over her, she desperately tries to put it back in the bottle. “I’m sorry. Fuck. Fuck! I’m sorry. What? Fuck! Oh, fuck!”

“You little brat. Who the hell do you think you are?” My face grows red and I grit my teeth. She pulls away. 

"I'm sorry, Sir!" She wails. Her eyes close. “You think you can cum without my permission?” I ask, corralling her to where I want her. “Did you disrespect me? Get your fucking mouth over here.” 

She collapses onto her knees. Her legs tremble, her body still in the midst of her orgasm – of MY orgasm. The one she stole from me. “I’m sorry. Please forgive me. It won’t happen again, I promise.”

I scoff and snatch her jaw. "Open that disobedient mouth of yours." She opens nice and wide. The head of my cock punches her throat. I fuck my scorn into her. Each thrust brims with contempt. “Rub that pussy of mine while I abuse this slutty mouth," I grunt. Her hand slips between her legs and her hips and torso sway. Her arm shoots back and forth. “You better not cum.” But now I’m trying to make her do it. “Rub faster. Suck harder. Jerk me off. That’s it. Stroke me. Rub your fucking cunt at the same time.” I push my hips into her face. “Are you really that big of a whore you can’t stop yourself? How dare you. Property doesn’t decide when it’s time for pleasure.” Gripping the back of her neck, I scream “I decide!” Her mouth hangs open. “Take me deeper down your throat. Show me you're sorry.” I slap her cheek. “I don’t think I’ve ever been this furious in my entire life. You get off on cumming without my permission? Do you?”

She gags; my balls rest on her chin. When she pulls back, drool drips from her face. “You don’t know how sorry I am, Sir," she blabbers. "Please, use all my holes. Fuck me like I’m a pathetic slut. It’s what I deserve.”

The motion between my property’s legs slows. I clench her jaw a second time. Spittle sprays on her face when I speak. “I don't care if you dislocate your shoulder! Faster!” Her enthusiasm returns but now I want more. “Faster!” I shout. Her hand slaps her thighs. “I said, rub faster! Look at me!” The whites around her irises take up half her face. “You better not cum!” slobber shoots out my mouth from the “B” in “better.” “Show me that you’re a compliant little toy. Who owns you?”

“You do, Sir. I happily gave you this power. I continue to give you this power. I never want to be in control. ”

I cradle my cock right above her and she opens her mouth, sticking out her tongue. I slap the head of my dick right there. “You better show me you can be obedient or I may never allow you to cum.”

Without closing her mouth, she tries to talk from the depths of her throat, but it comes out garbled. 

I massage her neck. Her fingers still shoot across her clit. Rage seeps out of every syllable I speak. “Faster. I want you right there on the edge. You’re going to learn some fucking discipline. Look me in the eyes," I grab her throat, forcing her gaze towards me. "See how serious I am? Never forget, you belong to me. You don’t belong to anyone else. That body is mine. The orgasms that come out of you are mine. They've always been mine. They'll always be mine. Who owns you?”

Her face contorts. She bites her trembling lip.  She's on the verge of tears, restraining her body from exploding. Through gritted teeth, she shrieks, “You do, Sir.”

Maybe I'll let her cum, maybe I won’t. I squeeze her throat tighter, but not enough to be unsafe. Her face turns crimson. I kiss her lips. Her eyes shut. I whisper, “Are you cumming?”

She shakes her head, “no.”

“Have you learned your lesson?”

She nods, “yes."

Pressing my mouth to her ear, I take a deep breath, inhaling my property’s scent. She is mine. I’ve earned her through years of built trust. She knows me being in control leads to something better and more intense than anything she imagined before we met. That’s why I have this respect. It’s why she gave up her authority. I take another deep breath. My property smells amazing. Savoring her for a moment, her eyes fluttering against my cheek. And then, I speak the words she desperately wants to hear. “Cum for me.”

I let go of her throat and she topples onto the floor. Her body heaves. She convulses and shakes. She cries out, “Fuuuuuuck!” Her hips still grind on her hand. I scream, “Cum again! Now! Right, now!” And being a good little slut, she does. I stand over her and watch the pathetic mess I’ve turned her into. I watch as she disappears into one orgasm after another. I pick up every one of them and put them in my pocket. I collect them. I keep them in a safe place. Her orgasms do not belong to her. They’re mine. She knows this, but we both enjoy it when I reteach her.

She still writhes on the kitchen floor. Her eyes close. Her breasts rise and fall with each deep breath. I crouch down beside her and pet her face. She turns towards me, squeezing my hand between her cheek and shoulder. "Remember your place," I kiss her forehead. "Next time, I may not be so nice."

“Thank you, Sir,” she whispers back to me. “Your guidance is the only thing I need.”