9. Joker
Broken Siren is one of my favorites, and she is always eager for an extra session, so she will come at a moment’s notice if Malcolm calls. The amount of pain she needs is more than anyone I have ever encountered. When I first read her bio, she divulged a lot about the reasoning. The woman clearly wanted people not to think she was crazy or needed to be committed. Did she probably need to be put on a psychic hold? Maybe? It could go either way. I wasn’t here to be her psychologist. No, I am here to fuck away her demons. She had such a fucked up childhood, only receiving love, attention, and affection when she got hurt, followed up by being sexually abused. I’m at least proud of her for seeking what she needed now rather than with some random man. It is safer here at the BowTied with me or the other doms she sees. Especially when she cries so hard after she cums. Most might find that disturbing, but I love the tears.
After all my sessions with her, I know exactly how far to push her limits, and I love doing so. We have a session together at least twice a month. She wants more. I know she wants to be exclusive, but that isn’t me. Nobody will get that from me; I have rules that others and I must follow. My lovely Broken Siren’s hands are above her head, and the metal cuffs are around her wrists. Only the tips of her toes hit the floor below.
Her mask has black, blue, and purple scales adorning it, fully embracing her name. Stepping back, I look at my handy work, knowing I will have to let her down soon to hate fuck her. Her breasts are a small C cup if I had to guess; her light pink nipples are now angry and red. I enjoy looking at the crisscross marks adorning them from my whip. Her ass has welts from my hands.
“Look at you, panting like a bitch in heat.” It is true. Her wetness is dripping down her thighs. I reach between them, running my fingers through her folds before smacking her pussy like she is a bad girl. She moans, and it’s like music to my ears. “Tell me what you need.” My voice cuts off her moan.
“Please, give me your cock, master.” I pet her head as a reward for her manners of submission.
Without warning, I release her from the chain above her head, and I watch as she falls to the ground in a heap. She pulls herself to her knees and looks down, waiting for the next command. “Crawl to the couch, hands on the back. Knees on cushions, ass out.”
She crawls to the couch like the good girl she wants to be. Broken Siren wants to belong to someone; I hope she finds that. She arches her back and flips her dark hair back. At BowTied, you must do STD testing so often, but even with that, I always use condoms. I don’t even take my clothes off as I pull my cock from my pants. My fingers slide into my pocket, pulling the foil square out before ripping it open and rolling the condom down my length.
It’s always the same with every woman I fuck, with me having to pretend they are my Queen, so I only fuck brunettes. Many women who want to be on my list dye their hair. I love the power I have over them. However, every woman I fuck is a poor replacement for the one I want. Even though she has used coconut scents, it smells wrong on her. My anger rises, but I keep myself in check. It’s not her fault she is a poor substitute for the one I want. I give her ass a smack, and she arches back, and I fist her hair at the back of her scalp.
She gives a mix of a moan and a cry. My free hand smacks her pussy once more before I thrust into her fully. I reach around and pinch her clit between my fingers and continue to thrust. Hard, fast, and deep is how she likes it, and I am more than happy to arrange that. “Yes, Daddy, just like that.”
Even if her voice takes me out of my fantasy, I allow her to speak freely during this part because this is for her. To enable her to release, not only sexually but mentally. For her, this is her therapy, owning her past and embracing the demons that haunt her. I feel her tighten on my cock, signaling the start of her mental breakdown. “I can’t!” she says and begins sobbing, and her arms and legs sag. Yep, there it is, and it is right on schedule.
My palm strikes her plump ass as I hoist her up. “You can and you will,” I demand of her, not letting her stop. She doesn’t want to give into the pleasure. I fuck her harder and faster, not letting her stop. Making sure that I keep hitting the spot that makes her squirm with one hand on her hip, the other tweaking and pinching her clit.
She throws her head back as she cums hard. Sobbing and moaning is such a weird combination to add to sex. I continue my assault on her clit before pushing her head down onto the cushion. She has turned to dead weight, and I prop her ass up.
I spit on the crack of her ass, and, without warning, I shove two fingers inside of her ass. Whatever she is saying now is incoherent. The cushion is muffling her voice, thankfully. “Come for me one more time.”
I thrust into her hard. She will feel me for days. I feel her tighten on me once more, and I close my eyes. My Queen is under me, not Broken Siren. I chain her to the bed, and she flashes that beautiful pink pussy at me. She needs me to claim her as mine. Two more thrusts, and I feel my balls tighten as I cum into the condom.
As I pull out and tie off the condom, I pull my pants back up and walk over to the tub in the room, running it for her. Doms always care for their subs, rewarding and caring for them. This applies to me as well, and there is no exception. I allow her to cry as I wash off in the shower. When I hear my phone ring with Queenie’s ringtone, I grab it, dripping water over the floor. “Queen?” I say, as my heart is about to beat out of my chest.