1. My Husband, My Slave


    Date: 1/9/2015, Categories: Fiction, Consensual Sex, Cum Swallowing, Domination/submission, Female Domination, Oral Sex, Slavery, Torture, Author: senorlongo, Rating: 89.2, Source: sexstories.com

    watch me? “Yes, of course—as a slave you will have no right of privacy. Also, you will raise your hand if you wish to speak and you will speak only when I permit it. I think I’ll go again while you’re peeing. Head up and open your mouth.” He sat to piss red-faced from embarrassment, but that would pass, and soon. He leaned forward, raised his head, and opened his mouth. I filled it with my cunt. I ran my fingers through John’s hair while I began to empty my bladder. He did a better job than he had earlier, swallowing almost all while pissing into the bowl. Of course, I didn’t have much, having pissed into his mouth only an hour or so earlier. “Clean me, John. You wouldn’t want me to have a dirty puss, would you?” He responded by licking me from asshole to clit several times before burying his tongue in my tunnel. He’d become extremely adept with his tongue over the past three months. I planned to give it plenty of exercise every day for the rest of our lives. John shifted to my clit, sucking it between his teeth and driving me over the edge to the sweet agony of an all-consuming orgasm. I was so weak-kneed I almost fell, but moved back from John and kissing his cheek. He looked up at me, his eyes full of love. “Thank you…Miss Sophie.” I led him to my bedroom, placed him on the floor at the foot of the bed where I fastened his wrist cuffs together behind his back and locked them to the bed frame by a short chain. I put a pillow beneath his head and a blanket over his body. ...
    “Good-night, my slave,” I said with a quick kiss. “Good-night, Miss Sophie…and thank you.” I kissed his cheek and tumbled into bed finding sleep almost immediately. CHAPTER 2 Time usually drags before a vacation, but not this time. I worked non-stop from 8:00 in the morning until 6:00 in the evening. John met me every time kneeling by the door, completely naked except for his wrist and ankle cuffs and the ever-present cock cage. My wine was always present on the coffee table. He crawled, heeling like a dog, to my feet. He removed my stockings and massaged my feet for more than a half hour before serving my dinner, sitting in his place between my legs as I fed him bits and scraps from my fingers. I was sure to give him enough. He would need his strength over the coming weeks to endure the beatings and whippings I had planned for him—the pain that would drive him down to true slavery and complete obedience. I know this sounds cruel and, maybe it is, but I loved John and I knew he was on the road to self-destruction. His episode with his boss and later the strip club were just the most recent examples. John had run up a tab of more than a thousand dollars in less than two weeks. I paid it off one evening while John hung from the chains after his caning, his ass red with crisscrossed welts. “You have John Masters’ tab,” I asked the bartender once I had made my way into the club. God, it was a filthy mess. I refused to even touch the bar. “Who the hell wants to know?” “I was just ...
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