She digs deep down into the darkness — and lets herself go.
Her name is not her name anymore. The letters on her work ID that rests between her tits make no semblance of sense.
The woman that looks back at her from where she sits on the edges of a bed is wild. Unkempt. Raven hair frames her face with curls. Her dark eyes are huge but…unrecognizable.
Yet she feels the touch of the woman..pulling aside the unbuttoned blouse, unclasping her bra. Peeling away her black slacks to reveal soaked black lace underwear.
She vaguely recalls something…something about being home from work, getting undressed, but it feels like a memory.
A lifetime ago.
Instead…she watches the unnamed woman reach for the bedside drawer to her left. Watches her rummage around inside, pull out a thick, purple vibe.
The hand that rolls her nipples between its fingers is not her husband’s.
The voice that tells her to take off her panties right fucking now is not her husband’s voice.
He’s downstairs doing the dishes. She can hear him humming to himself.
While she’s up in their bedroom.
‘Who do you belong to?’
It makes no sense to think the voice in her ear is impossible but it is. It’s deep. With an edge but also somehow a softness.
The answer comes to her but she struggles to make it real. To give her voice to it. It’s there, it’s so fucking close, but it takes her a few tries to get it out of her dry lips.
‘Y-y….Y-you, Sir.’
‘So why do you deny me? Why do you deny what you are….my whore…’
‘I..I don’t..’
‘On your knees.’
The bed makes her wobble but she’s on her knees now, facing the mirror across from her. Once upon a time she didn’t like her tits, their size, their shape, the way they came to rest out of a bra. Now she feels a smile touch her lips as she looks back at the naked woman tracing the purple toy along her slit. She’s goddam gorgeous.
‘You don’t want to be my whore?’
The voice comes from behind her. Breath hot on her neck. She’d sell her soul to feel his hard cock against her ass. She’d do anything…
‘I do - no, I do.’
The desperation stains her voice and words.
‘Then SAY IT. Say it, you fucking bitch.’
The words cut through the air and mark her bare back, clawing down to her ass.
At the tail end of the sentence the toy leans into her clit, buzzing hard. She stifles her cry.
He doesn’t need to hear.
Is it he doesn’t need to hear or he doesn’t get to hear?
Or both?
This is for her Master.
Her mind is running away with her thoughts. She lets it go.
‘I am…I want to be…your whore.’
‘Louder.’
‘I am your whore, I am! I am!’
She’s whimpering in hushed tones.
‘Slip that toy inside yourself and tell me who you belong to.’
Her body jolts, her legs tremble, as the toy spreads her lips apart and slides right in. Her breath lodges in her throat. She has to remember to breathe.
‘I belong to you.’
Sweat glistens on the woman’s forehead. Her eyes flutter through the sweat as the toy inches a little further. The sight is knotting her stomach, turning her on.
She feels sick but…elated. High?
‘Make no mistake, my little slut. You belong to me. You have always belonged to me. I own you.’
‘Yes, Master.’
‘Master, am I? What a delightful slave you are. Put on those clamps.’
She throws back the sheets with her free hand, finds the clothes pegs buried there and slips them on both of her nipples within seconds. Pain shoots through her, startling, pinching. Blissful.
Why was she ever worried about the pain? It seems so welcoming now. Warm. Delightful.
‘Pull them, bitch.’
The noise that comes out of her is guttural, strained. Somewhere in the back of her mind she knows to be quiet. To hide from her husband.
As she pulls them, the pain increases, gnawing at her, stretching her tits to what feels like fucking oblivion. Where does it stop, where does it stop? Keep going, keep going.
She catches herself falling, shoots out her arms. Is on all fours now, her ass up in the air.
‘God, I want to devour that soaking cunt of yours…that needy fucking cunt.’
‘Please..’ She hears herself beg. Her heart is in her throat, blood pumping in her ears. She’s panting hard as the toy pummels in and out of her.
‘Listen to how wet you are. Listen to how fucking much you want me. And not your husband down stairs…’
A stab of guilt. Her stomach’s twisting but she cannot stop herself.
For the love of God she cannot stop herself.
‘This is who you are. This is what you are. Don’t you run from it.’
She can feel his breath on her thighs. Fuck, she’s actually lifting her ass to him. Her hubby never fucks her ass.
‘All your life, that little cunt, those gorgeous tits, that ass, your fucking mind — all of you. You’ve belonged to me. You just didn’t know it. All your life has led to being owned by me…’
She desperately shuts in her moans. Lets them buzz on the back of her lips - fuck, she wants to taste him. Wrap her mouth around his cock and taste him. Better yet - show how much of a good slave she is.
Is she…a slave? Truly? Fuck.
She can’t get enough of the toy. Rising her hips only to glide down into it, feeling it buzz around her lips. Knowing he’s behind her watching her drip onto the bed she shares with her husband.
She’s lost in a daze, tears in her eyes, when she feels the hand around her throat. Panic comes - then dissipates. She’s falling back on her ass but he has her in his lap, guiding his cock to….
Stars. Shining bright above. Specks of light shooting across her bedroom like the cosmos is all around. He fills her completely, all consuming, all around her. Owning her.
‘Renounce your marriage.’
Her stomach plummets.
‘What?’
She can’t think.
‘Renounce your fucking marriage — ‘
— All she wants is his cock —
‘- and my load belongs to you.’
‘Fuck..’
She grips his thighs to maintain some sense of fucking him for herself but she can’t. He has her held tightly.
‘Now. Repeat after me. I….’
Shakily she does. Lays her full name out into the wilderness. Lays her husband’s full name out into the wilderness.
‘I fucking renounce my marriage — and I…and she belongs to her Master.’
Third person feels right somehow.
Lifts a weight she didn’t know she had around her neck.
They find a rhythm together, the heat of his chest to her back. His hands flicking her sensitive nipples like some sort of sadist.
‘Her cunt belongs to her Master.’
She swallowed. Her throat clicked.
‘Her cunt belongs to her Master.’
‘Her ass…’
‘Her ass..’
‘is His..’
‘Is His…’
‘As is her body, mind and soul.’
‘As is her body, mind and soul.’
His grunt was hot on her ear, rattled in her brain.
His cock twitched around her — and then she knew…she felt it. His load…pumping into her. Her lips split into a grin…
And she was there, laying on her stomach, her ass in the air.
‘My naughty girl, look at you…’
His cum dripping out from her lips and down her thighs.
The thought sent her over the edge.
She bit her tongue shut, guilt and lust and hunger and sluttiness - words lose meaning, become strings of nonsense as the world around her flipped and twisted and she crashed into the bed, ass in the air, toy gripped around her eager cunt, thighs clamped shut.
‘My naughty girl…look at you…who are you? What are you?’
‘I don’t know…’
‘We’ll have to name you.’
Her chest heaves in and out. Her breath seems impossible to catch up to.
‘I’m yours. I don’t need a name right now.’
‘You will in time. So long as you never forget this..’
The dishes clatter downstairs.
Her head swims.
Alone in their en-suite bathroom, she cleans her toy, splashes water on her face and lit up by the coolness of the approaching evening she slips into her shorties.
She’s half tempted to leave the clamps on under her singlet. A reminder of her self.
But after pulling them off, she realizes she’s made the right decision to remove them.
The pain is delightful and worth it.
She packs her toy away and takes a look at herself in the mirror.
She’s a fierce spirit.