Silk The Submission

She entered the room softly on bare feet, midnight blue silk of her robe skimming her curves and fluttering around her thighs with the gentle sway of her hips. She saw him sitting in the chair, candlelight glinting off the silk of his black robe. He held a crop in one hand, tapping it into the palm of the other. Their eyes met and electricity crackled in the air between them. Her arms reached up to loosen her hair, the lustrous black mane flowing about her shoulders, tumbling to her waist and releasing a faint fragrance of honeysuckle. She smiled when she saw the fire leap into his eyes and heard the low growl deep in his throat. Her hands went to her waist, untying the belt that held her robe closed. With a shrug of her shoulders, the robe slipped from her body and and made a puddle of silk around her feet.

She stepped toward the bar in the corner. Choosing a chunky rock crystal goblet, she filled it with red wine from the carafe. She walked back toward him; falling to her knees before him. With her head bowed, she held the goblet in both hands and offered it up to him.

His eyes traveled over her kneeling form: the black hair falling around her shoulders, candlelight glinting on her tan skin, soft limbs outstretched offering him wine. Laying the crop in his lap, he took the goblet with one hand and one of her hands with the other. “Look at me, pet.”

She raised her head to meet his gaze — his dark eyes penetrating her green ones. She trembled, as she always did, when she met his eyes. “You’re late, pet,” he stated flatly.

Her eyes filled with tears as she dropped her head, “Yes, Master.”
He arched his eyebrows, “Have you no apologies to make, no excuses?”

Tears spilled down her cheeks as she shook her head, “No, Master. It was inexcusable This girl deserves whatever corrections Master feels appropriate.” The black hair fell around her face as her shoulders trembled with quiet sobs.

He lifted her hand to his lips and brushed a light kiss on it. She raised her head quickly and looked at him with wide teary eyes. He smiled, “Good girl. I would have been very disappointed if you had offered excuses. That you know no reason is acceptable pleases me. Your lateness is forgiven, little one.”

Relief, gratitude and devotion battled in her eyes, “Oh! Master is far too kind to this girl. This girl thanks Master.” She bent and placed her lips on his foot as her tears continued to fall. He savored the sight of the creature he owned kowtowing to him.

In her present position both the brand on her hip and the slave tattoo on her neck were clearly visible. His flesh began to stir at the signs of ownership. He laid the crop on the table, his disappointment in her was far more punishing than the leather wand on her flesh. “Lap, pet,” he whispered.

She rose to her knees, drying the tears that had fallen onto his foot with her hair. She climbed onto his lap and snuggled into his shoulder. Her nostrils flared as she inhaled his scent. He stroked her hair, soothing her. She shifted herself in his lap, straddling him. Her hands moved up to knead and stroke the muscles in his shoulders, easing out the tensions of the day. Fingers probing out all the tightness; her eyes locked on his. She smiled when she heard his low contented growl and felt his muscles relax and warm under her adoring touch. Her lips moved in a soundless healing chant. Her hands moved around to the back of his neck, fingertips kneading and circling the tissue on either side of the spine. Her devoted fingers moved to the sides of his neck, firmly swirling the corded, tight muscles there.

During her devoted service, his hands were in constant motion — stroking, gripping and caressing the curves of the body he owned. His strong fingers danced up her ribcage to her breasts; he seized the nipples roughly and pulled her into an arch. His eyes lit up and his shaft began to harden at her low growl. She reached between them and parted his robe. She edged forward until her heated slit was pressed to his growing flesh. Her hands moved behind her to rest on his knees. She leaned back, increasing the tugging sensation to her nipples. She slowly started to rock her hips, moving her moist folds up and down the underside of his throbbing hardness. The pungent aroma of her juices rose in the air between them. Between soft moans she whispered, “Oh, Master makes this girl’s cunt so very needy!”

He looked at her with arched brows, “Oh, needy? Tell me more.” His fingers tugged harder and farther on her nipples, twisting sightly . Her back arched deeper, her hair trailing down the fronts of his legs. An almost inhuman growl escaped from her throat; a spark of feral fire leapt in the smoky emerald eyes. His voice continued, low and rough, “No, don’t tell me. Show me.”

Her hips began to buck more vigorously; her juices slicking his flesh. Hoarse cries and growls were torn from her throat, her eyes never left his. He took his hands from her breasts. Placing one hand on her hip and one hand on her upper back, he pulled her forward. She snarled out as his teeth sunk into her breast. He could feel her distended pearl rubbing over his juice-slicked shaft. He reached between them and took it between his thumb and forefinger, rolling it tenderly, then pinching it with more force. Her body began to tremble; hot juices flooded over his throbbing shaft. He looked up at her, pinched the sensitive nub of flesh like a vise, raked his nails over her back — opening her skin — and growled at her, “Cum, Now. Cum for me, my sweet little slut.”

Even as her body was going rigid and she shrieked, he grasped her by the hips and plunged her spasming cunt over his shaft. Juices sprayed out of her around his hardness, soaking both of them. Her inner walls gripped and released his flesh, milking him. She jerked and writhed on him in an obscene dance. “Yessssssssss, Mine.” he growled, as she ground her slit into him. All her humanity was stripped away; she was pure rutting animal now. Howls and snarls interspersed with her screams as she rode the currents of release. He watched her jerk and convulse, impaled on his shaft.

“Yours!” she cried out and collapsed forward on to his chest. He grasped her hips firmly and began to move her up and down on his hardness. Still drifting, she took up the motion, riding him in the rhythm she knew he liked. Her sweaty body flowed against his, her lips and tongue nibbled and nuzzled at his neck. She raised her head to gaze deeply into the eyes that could capture her soul with a single glance. He saw in her look utter devotion and surrender, and a heat that was rising again. He thrust his hips upward, burying himself in her, taking up a hard pace, he began to fuck the property he owned.

Her hips moved in perfect synch with his thrusts. Soft, long-nailed fingers drifted lovingly over his chest and shoulders. Her soul poured out to him through her smoky green eyes as he took possession of her. As she gyrated on his throbbing, thrusting shaft she whispered, “Yours.”

“Mine, my little fucktoy,” he snarled. His words sent a shudder of pleasure through her flesh. Her inner walls clasped his shaft, milking it, pulling it deeper. Her juices eased his passage to the very base of her dripping core. His hands gripped her hips, nails digging into the flesh. He savored the soft cries and snarls that she made. “I own you,” he growled.

Something broke loose in her soul at the words. Her hips began to buck wildly; her inner walls fluttered and rippled around him. Her hands clutched his shoulders, nails biting into his skin. She leaned forward and brushed her parted lips onto his; the soft, languorous movements of her tongue in sharp contrast to the wild bucking of her hips. Shifting her head, she placed her lips near his ear, through her snarls and growls he heard the words, “Yesssssssssssssssss, fuck Your whore. Take what You own. This body exists only for your pleasure.”

He pounded his throbbing shaft harder and faster into her. She humped and gyrated to meet every stroke. The air was filled with the sounds of her cries, his growls and the sharp slapping of flesh on flesh. Without warning, he lifted her and shifted slightly and plunged her tight asshole over his cock. He slid into the snug sleeve at the same time that his teeth bit down into the tender flesh of her breast again, his tongue lapping at the wound. Her howls were animalistic. She bounced her ass up and down his rigid shaft with inhuman fury.

He tore his mouth from her breast and snarled at her, “Who do you belong to?”

In a gasping, hoarse cry she answered, “this girl is proud and happy to belong to You, Master.”

His eyes penetrated her mind and soul, “Cum for me,” he whispered roughly.

Her body responded as if electrocuted. She went rigid as spasms rippled through her body. She shuddered and writhed and screamed her release from the pit of her soul. A great gush of juices burst from her heated core. He continued to pound his cock into her ass while the explosions wracked her mind and body. Her mind and soul broke free from her body to join with his energy, she was spinning, soaring, rocketing up past the sun.

He felt his shaft begin to throb and swell, his sac tightened. He gave one final brutal thrust into her and ground her ass fiercely down onto him at the same time. His cry of “Mine!” came at the exact moment of his explosion into her. She screamed as his hot seed erupted into her, “Yesssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssss!” Their howls and snarls mingled in the air as they soared on the currents of ecstacy. Her eyes rolled back and glazed over as he emptied the last of his seed into her. She collapsed, limp and quivering onto him. They drifted that way together for an unknown time, their only awareness of the nearness of the other. There they remained — Owner and property, Master and pet, Sir and slave — until sleep crept in and claimed their sated minds and bodies.

By :

Check Also

My Real Slave Life: First Time I Was a Sex Slave

One of the things you may notice about my fantasy writing is that a lot …

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published.