Chapter 5
Storm
I finished at ten minutes after seven, and found him with his tablet, on my bed, watching a YouTube video about recent Sumerian translations I’d watched when I hadn’t been able to sleep and needed to get my mind off work a few nights before.
“I’ve known about this a while,” he told me, turning his tablet off and setting it on the bedside table. “Never really thought it’d see the light of day, though. Kind of rewrites the religious histories of several major belief systems.”
I nodded. “It does. I take it you went looking through my recently watched videos?”
He grinned. “Guilty as charged. Anything you need to do before we get started on the routine?”
Routine? The word felt odd, and I looked around the room, wondering what he was talking about.
And I immediately saw a metal bar fitted into the top of the door leading to my bathroom.
A fucking chin-up bar.
My breath caught and my clit came to life. I was suddenly hyper-aware of my nipples.
And then came that beautiful, delicious, gravelly voice issuing orders, and every nerve in my body sparked with electricity.
“Strip, slave.”
The words landed like a key opening a lock, and my hands were moving before my brain caught up. Shirt over my head. Shorts and panties pushed down. I draped everything over a chair and stood two steps inside my own bedroom, naked.
I lifted my gaze to his, dropped my shoulders back, and stood with a relaxed confidence, awaiting further orders. Obeying him felt right in a way nothing had for the last five weeks.
“Grab the bar,” he said, and assumed I’d know what he meant. He’d seen me clock it, so of course he knew I did.
I walked to the doorway on legs that felt surprisingly steady, jumped up, caught it, and hung there.
So many feelings and emotions swamped me while my shoulders and spine stretched, my torso lengthened, and I braced for what I knew came next.
He stepped in behind me, the familiar weight of the cincher settled around my waist, and he began the patient work of tightening the laces in slow, even pulls.
A sob gasped out of me, and the tears followed.
Tears of relief.
For the next hours, I was his. No decisions, no plans, no worry of listening for intruders, or whether the alarm system was set and active.
I only had to hang here and let him shape me the way he wanted. Only had to follow orders and obey.
“Oh yeah,” he murmured near my ear, voice low and pleased. “There she is. My weeping little fuckslave. Feels good to give it up again, doesn’t it?”
“Yes, Sir. Thank you.”
A chuckle, and he kissed my shoulder.
But never slowed in squeezing my internal organs, tighter and tighter, until some of them were up in my chest cavity and it was an effort to breathe.
Tears slid down my cheeks, and I couldn’t wipe them. When he finally tied the laces off, he bent and locked the heels onto my feet one at a time, forcing my feet into the sharp angles they’d be at until he unlocked them.
And then came his voice again.
“Permission to drop, slave.”
I carefully landed on the balls of my feet and then turned to face him. At his house, he’d moved to stand in front of me, so I’d only had to look up once I landed. The difference was a little jarring, but then his voice brought me back again.
“Who am I?”
The answer came out on a broken sob. “Sir. You’re my Sir.”
“Good girl.” He pointed to the bed. “Lean over. Tits on the mattress, ass in the air, arms stretched out on the bed over your head.”
It wasn’t the same as the bar, but it was close to the same position, and seconds later came the cool touch of lube, and then the plug, insistently pressing into me. Opening me.
After weeks of emptiness, it burned, but he ignored my whimpers and tiny little yelps, working it in steadily.
I was a little surprised when the widest part finally pushed past my tight ring, and the whole thing seated inside me. It still hurt and burned and stretched, but not as much as I’d expected.
Is it crazy that I was more disappointed than relieved?
Still, my hole clenched around the neck, and I was completely aware it represented Magnum’s will over mine.
The cincher, the shoes, the plug. No way to pretend I wasn’t completely dominated and owned in that moment, and the sob that ripped out of me had nothing to do with physical pain and everything to do with an emotional release I couldn’t stop.
So many feelings, growing and growing inside me, and my eyes watered once again while the weight of the plug settled deep inside me, forcing my body to accept it and remain open yet plugged.
“Stand, little slave.”
He pulled the bedspread down and then folded the blanket and top sheet out of the way, on top of the spread.
“You know how I want you.”
I climbed up and settled on my back, center of the bed, arms stretched out to the side, legs bent and open.
He undressed without hurry, his gaze never leaving mine, then climbed onto the mattress between my legs.
But he didn’t fuck me right away. He leaned down and then his mouth was on me, and I was suddenly in danger of coming, but I didn’t have permission.
“Sir, please! I’m close!”
But he didn’t back off — tongue and lips, with just enough suction on my clit to nearly bring me despite the fact I was trying my hardest not to fuck up and come without permission.
Seconds before I’d have lost it, he rose over me, lined himself up, and drove inside me.
There was nothing gentle or kind about it, and he was already far enough inside me I could feel the rough part of his cock. I couldn’t scream because it knocked the breath out of me. My hands fisted the sheets, my knees came up, trying to make room for him inside me, but that wasn’t possible.
The plug and his cock, both spreading me wide and filling me — and he didn’t give me time to get used to him.
He pulled out and plunged back inside me.
The textured, corded length scraped over tissues not used to it, and I finally managed to cry out, but he just hammered himself deeper into me, stretching me and bruising me inside.
I didn’t even know my eyes were closed until his gruff, growly voice ordered. “Open. Your. Eyes.”
I met his gaze as tears threatened to spill from the emotion and the overwhelm.
The eye contact spurred him and he moved faster, with deep, unrelenting thrusts that scraped me raw and drove the breath from me, pain and pleasure weaving through my system at the same time while I forced my eyes to stay open because he’d demanded it, and it was impossible to hide everything going through me in that moment: my love for him, my complete and utter submission, my need for him to hurt me with his mammoth, monstrous cock.
“Come.”
I hadn’t even known I’d been close to an orgasm, but it hit like a detonation at his single-word command.
My body clamped down hard around both his cock and the plug.
My room flashed so bright I couldn’t see, and broken sounds tore out of my throat.
He fucked me straight through it without slowing, the friction turning sharper as I grew even more sensitive.
He built me back up slower, edging me until I was shaking and begging in soft, broken syllables. When he finally gave permission, the release rolled through me in long, torturous waves. I held onto him and rode it out while he kept the same relentless rhythm.
He didn’t let me come again for a long, long time.
He edged me, working me close and then going inside and holding still, stretching me impossibly wide while he told me to breathe, and I fought the cincher to obey.
And then he fucked me hard and fast again, working my clit to bring me close — and then made me back away from it again. And again.
But eventually, he ordered me to beg better, and I gave him everything I had. “Please, Sir! I need to come so badly! I beg for mercy, Master! Please allow your slave to come again!”
Eventually, he said, “Permission, slave,” — and I swear the release he finally allowed took the top of my head off.
It didn’t just crest, it detonated up from the deepest part of me in an endless wave that swallowed everything.
My ears rang, and my vision narrowed so I could only see the dark intensity of his eyes.
Every muscle from my filled pussy and stuffed ass all the way to the base of my neck locked down.
My muscles spasmed and jerked around his cock, around the plug, and against the unyielding grip of the cincher.
My body fought itself, fought him, fought the orders to keep coming, and still the climax rolled higher.
He shifted the angle and drove deeper, grinding against the spot inside me until the room fractured into pieces around me.
“You don’t get to stop,” he ordered, voice rough. “Keep that cunt clamping down on my motherfucking cock.”
Each time the wave tried to break, he hit the exact right angle and pushed me higher all over again.
My insides clenched and released in brutal, helpless pulses, milking him, fighting the dual stretch and the constant pressure of the cincher that refused to let my ribs expand far enough for a full breath.
Tears streamed sideways into my hair. I couldn’t form words.
I could only shake and obey while the climax felt as if it might rip me apart.
And then he finally stilled and emptied inside me with an inhuman growl, his arms bracing his body over me while his gaze stayed locked on mine, and he let me see inside his soul while he came this time.
And it threatened to finish undoing me, seeing his raw vulnerability, and what I defined to be love, even though he’d never said the words. The look finished what the orgasm had started, breaking my emotions open inside me.
I was trembling rather than sobbing when he finally pulled out, my body on overload, the tears still flowing, but there was no more energy for the huge, wracking sobs of earlier.
I vaguely remember the shoes and cincher coming off. For a few unmoored seconds, I floated, and my lungs were finally able to gasp enough air in to fuel my oxygen-starved cells. The sudden absence of the constant, steel-boned pressure should’ve felt like relief, but it was wrong.
Then he wrapped the boneless waist cincher around me, and my body settled into it before my mind caught up. The feel and sound of the zipper made the floating stop, and I was moored again. Enclosed once more inside his domain, and the constraint was more important than oxygen, in that moment.
Somehow, the waist cincher had become the physical shape of his ownership, but I wouldn’t think on that at depth until the long drive home the following evening, because he left me for a few seconds and returned with a damp cloth, and he wiped me down while I relaxed into the mattress, my body completely spent.
I was nearly gone when he pulled the top sheet over both of us, rolled me onto my side, and snugged me against the heat of him, spooning my plugged ass against his now-soft but still substantial dick, so it settled just inside the crack of my ass, nudging the plug so it shifted inside me.
And for the first time in five weeks, I fell asleep as a slave, completely owned, dominated, and perfectly at peace in the world.