I have always owned my delicious slut.

She didn’t know she was mine many years ago before we had met, but even then, she was owned – my property; my bitch.

It started with her throwing herself at my feet one evening on Lush. The first thirty seconds was all it took. In those simple moments of introduction, we fit – like pieces of something fine and ancient and broken – suddenly assembled, after millennia.

Life is like that. We are all broken pieces of various “somethings.” If we are fortunate, the world sets the pieces next to each other… and they snap together magnetically and fuse. And eventually you can’t remember the way it was before that moment.

I have always been an Alpha dominant. But often people confuse that with lesser things. Assumptions are made that the Dom is some kind of sadistic caricature. Ridiculous. It’s always about love – it’s always about giving of your self, and it is always about a perfect completion. The following account is true and exact. I hope you will enjoy sharing it with me.

Today I visited my slut. She met me at the door dressed in a black leather skirt showcasing fishnet stockings on porcelain white legs – smooth and strong from the exercises I have assigned her to do every day. My slut is learning the traditional warrior arts. I am her master and her Master. I enjoyed the melting look in her eyes as she opened the door; probably already wet from imagining the trip out I had planned for us. Her black sheer blouse strained to keep those fantastic breasts in-place. She had gone to great effort to prepare this look for me today.

I appreciated it, and I wanted her to know it. My kiss was soft, but insistent. She moaned. I love her moans so much. They are all desperation and passion. Being multi-orgasmic, she can often cum for hours. Fortunately, I am capable of staying hard for that long. Not sure if other men can, but I am capable and was gifted in that area, I suppose.

I am six-foot-one, and 205 pounds of muscle. No boasts and I don’t need to make anything up about myself – these things are simply who I am. She seemed to appreciate it again today as I took her in my arms. I so love looking into her eyes. She is such a sexy little bitch.

Her gasp as I squeezed a nipple was oh, so sweet to my ears. Her door hadn’t shut before I was lifting the edge of her skirt. I so loved the feel of the top of those fishnet stockings; they ended mid thigh. Inwardly I smiled as our tongues danced together and I bit her lip as my fingers found her pussy. She’s such a slut… crotch-less panties. Her pussy was dripping into my hand and I fingered and pinched her lovely clit.

I sighed as she sank to her knees.

“Do you really need it, slut?” I asked. She looked up at me, her eyes wide and pleading. Hard to resist.

“Please, please Master,” she begged. “I really need it so bad!”

I love my slut. I know she’s not just saying the words. I can feel the heat coming off of her. The fingers of my left hand were slick with her juices. She needed cock badly. I was happy to give it to her.

“Take off my jeans slut,” I said smiling down at her.

With the unclasping of the belt, they fell away. She sucked me into her mouth. Early training on deep-throating has made her so amazing in this regard. I sucked in my breath as she swallowed my shaft. “Fuck,” I said.

I meant it. I leaned over her and spanked her ass and pussy several times, hoping to convey my serious intentions.

Not sure if she got the message – but realizing that the expert sucking she was giving me was requiring me to get horizontal quick, I Picked her up off the floor, and led her into her bedroom. I draped myself across her bed and she knelt and continued to suck my cock.

I wanted badly to cum in her mouth, but the truth was, I just love her so much, and wanted more than anything else, to just continue to be inside her: inside her mouth, her pussy or her ass. As she sucked me, I reveled in the former, and strongly considered the possibility of the latter two. And while she knows I plan to take her ass properly and completely sometime soon, a nice ass fucking is best done with preparation, patience and determination with plenty of time to lead up to it. Today was supposed to be a trip out for coffee. I didn't see a latte' in my immediate future.

She tugged on my balls, and sucked them into her mouth, making me ache in an indescribable way. Mostly, it just made me want her more and more. I held her head in my hands and fucked her mouth. She was making me really want to take her, and it was going to have to happen. I sat up and lifted her off the bed with me, turning around with her and dropping her on her back onto the bed. I love the whiteness of her skin. Her pussy was even wetter. I wondered idly, if that was even possible. The lips were soft and inviting. I knew I wanted to suck them, so I knelt and began to taste her.

I kissed her pussy lightly and blew on it, and she thrashed on the bed covers. She tasted of salt and something like the description on a package of some smooth afternoon coffee it didn't look like I was going to get today: sweet and inviting with smoky notes and a hint of mystery. I would savor her. I would drink her in.

“Beg slut, “ I told her. “Be a good bitch and beg.” To be fair, she was pretty insensible by now, but it helps to do a little training and make her slow down and appreciate the flowers… as I was literally about to do.

“Please,” she asked plaintively.

“Be specific, my slut. Please what?”

“Please lick your fuck toy’s pussy,” she asked so sweetly I just had to comply.

I licked and sucked the open flower of her lips and clit. She screamed and thrashed on the bed.

“Please master!” she asked again.

I stopped what I was doing, and enjoyed the way she clawed at the mattress. “Specific,” I said.

“Cum. Please. Please may your fuck toy cum?”

What can you say to a question like that? I smiled, her juices on my lips. “Cum, bitch.” I sucked her lips sharply into my mouth and stroked them in vibrato with my tongue.

“Fuck!” she screamed. Oh yes, I thought. We’re getting to that part.

I knelt between her legs. Her pussy was so wet, I slid my cock along it as the slut squirmed. I watched all eight inches sink into her. Fuck I love that first thrust. She does too, apparently. A stream of “fucks” and “shit!” and a few other choice words flowed out of her. It was insensible babble, really, but translated from the language “Sluttish,” it basically meant one thing: “Fuck me like you own me.”

Which of course, I do.

“MY fucking bitch,” I growled. She screamed again. This was probably going to either cause a mass-fucking from her sounds reaching the neighbors on either side, or generate a police report. I briefly considered stuffing her panties in her mouth, but I was too busy sticking my cock through them. And, they looked nice on her.

Her fishnet stockings were slick with sweat as I lifted her legs and impaled her over and over. “MY fucking property!” I said, punctuating it with some exclamation points in the shape of my hammering cock.

I sucked and bit her nipples nearly causing her to hyperventilate. I didn’t want her unconscious, so I slowed for a minute, withdrew, kissed her pussy and gave it another lick. I could taste myself on her, and that made me smile again.

I paused and flipped her over by her ankles. I shoved my cock back into her well-fucked pussy. Time to dip into the inspiration well and see what the bucket brings up. I fucked her as I considered what kind of crafty stunt I could pull on her this time.

Since I have known her, slut has truly lived up to her title. In fact, in all fairness, that should be “Slut!” with a capital “S.” That thought just gave me a giggle, but it is true. She has stripped naked and sucked me off in the car, she has cum for me innumerable times as I have fingered her. She has been fucked in front of her apartment door, claimed in a very slow deliberate way at my place (please see the bitch’s story – it’s amazing! She’s a beautiful writer), and she’s been tied and forced to stand legs spread as I sucked her pussy from beneath her. I wanted something special and fun and a little memorable. And with her screams and cries and squirming and thrashing as I fucked her while gripping her hips, it came to me.

Inspiration; you never know where it is going to be found. I pulled out and gave her upturned pussy a lick and kiss. Yes, I thought, there it is!

“I believe I promised you something, fuck slut,” I said, holding out my hand to help her off the bed. She had flipped over onto her back – a fine sheen of sweat coating her. She looked absolutely radiant. Her nipples were red and swollen, as was her labia. Her face flushed. Everything else was a field of snowy white skin.

She rose, her hand in mine, and I led her to her computer.

“Sit down, you will be typing,” I said.

“But what will I be typing, Master?”

I had to work to fit myself under her desk. It wasn't easy. The desk was small to fit the slut, it wasn't intended for someone to attempt to crouch beneath. This is how the Apollo astronauts probably felt, I thought – without the sex, of course.

“Oh!” she exclaimed, warming to the way this situation was developing. My slut claims to have a poor imagination, but she can imagine quite well, indeed. And we had already discussed something like this.

Fantasy is great. Making a crazy fantasy a reality – priceless!

She was on Lush in a moment, but the tip of my tongue against her clit was causing her back to arch and a study of the ceiling tile was not what I had intended. I sucked and nibbled the inside of her thigh while she regained some of her higher brain functions and opened up the Lush website.

I licked her a few times causing her to spasm. I glanced up over the edge of her desk at the screen. I couldn’t read much from this angle, but noticed she hadn’t yet even entered a room.

“Get in a room, bitch,” I said.

The world snapped back into focus for her. “Fuck…fuck. Yes…” she moaned.

Here’s our newly developed game. I call it “Fuck-a-Slut RL.” The way it is supposed to work is a nice room set up where friends can come by and enjoy the fucking of some slut, like mine; offer commentary, provide some insights and advisory on what should happen next to the slut. Oh! And the kicker is this: the bitch doesn’t get to cum until given permission by someone on Lush.

Delicious!

Slut, however was struggling. Through her moaning, twitching and panting on her computer chair, she was mewling desperately. “I can’t find anyone to help me!”

I grinned. Gave her pussy a good moment of sucking lips, clit – everything into my mouth, stroking it like a cock. Slut was barely staying in her chair. The ceiling inspection began anew.

I paused again. “Such a fucking slut,” I said. She collapsed slackly into the chair.

“Please Master! Please… I need to fucking cum so bad!”

“Well, you’ll need to find someone to talk to on Lush then, bitch,” I said. This drew another stream of “fuck,” “Shit,” etc. In the common tongue of Sluttish, it simply meant: “I am going to fucking reach through this monitor and grab someone’s balls if they don’t help me cum.”

At last, her shining knight arrived on the screen, typing “How can I help?” OK, not a conversationalist, perhaps, but slut was trying to read out loud and I doubt any more than those four words would have been legible to her. Beneath the table, I sucked her pussy again. It was sort of my way of saying “good girl.”

She nearly came again. I had to stop and slow down again. She typed furiously above me. I sucked her lips, flicked my tongue against her clit. She jerked. That one earned another “Fuck.” Then she sucked in a breath. “He said I can cum!” she announced triumphantly. I smiled. This would be priceless.

I gave her pussy the absolute full attention of my mouth. I flicked and nibbled, then sucked it hard over and over, and yes she came very, very hard. And then she moaned what I was expecting: “Please Master….”

“Again?” I asked looking up at her wild-eyed expression of desperation. She nodded furiously, biting her lips. “Well, you’ll have to ask your new friend for permission, then.” I know. That wasn’t very nice of me.

The sounds halfway between a sob and a moan were priceless as she adjusted herself in her chair and typed another string of characters from the “Sluttish” language at our new friend. “Fuck!” she cried. “He said no! I asked him … I fucking pleaded with him to cum and he said no!” I licked her and sucked her lips hard. She forgot what galaxy she was in, then a string of babble from her again as she read messages from the creator of the universe on the ceiling.

“You’ll have to convince him,” I said between mouthfuls.

“You may cum if you send me a friend request,” she read out to me. Then exclaiming, “he said I can cum!” I gave her something explosive to cum over: Another good sucking. She clawed at the air. What a slut. “Fuck! She cried out as another wave of pleasure threatened to crash over her.

I giggled. “Again?”

“Please, please… “ she moaned. Too bad I’m a stickler for the rules.

“Nope. You’ll have to ask permission,” I told her, then turned my attention to her whole pussy, licking slowly up and down its’ length. This elicited more streams of Sluttish and interpretative ceiling presentations in varying other languages.

She grabbed the edge of the table, typing crazily at the conversationalist on the screen. “Fuck! Fuck! He said no again!” she cried. I’m thinking: holy shit! I owe this guy a fucking beer!

Little kisses and licks, then some fun sucking of her clit ensues. Slut is losing her mind. “He say’s I can’t cum until he gives the word.” I'm thinking: I fucking love this guy! I start a wild sucking of her entire pussy again. Slut will feel this licking in another dimension. This one will travel back in time it’s so good.

The crescendo builds. Her thighs tighten like a vise on my head. She’s counting down with the conversationalist “Three…. Two…. One…. Cum. He says I can cum!” She sobs. "Thank you, thank you!"

And then she does: For about the fiftieth time that day.

I so love my little slut.