His Mars

He comes into the room, his blue eyes flashing, his cheeks flushed. He grips my wrist, pulling me from the computer chair. He pushes me into the recliner.

"Push it back," he growls.

My hand drops to push the handle on the side that makes the recliner go back immediately. My body is trembling slightly. I know this mood. Master wants to claim me. I can feel it in his rough touches, his clenched teeth, the way he talks, no, commands me.

Both his powerful hands reach for my loose flowing skirt, the ripping sound of the destroyed fabric loud in the quiet room. He moves his hands behind my knees, pushing them up and out, exposing me to him. His eyes become almost slits as he looks at me.

I know what he is thinking; 'Mine'. I shudder from head to toe, my body shamelessly responding. I feel my nipples hardening, my pussy clenching, dampening, my hips lifting slightly.

He holds my legs open. I can feel the strain on my inner thighs and buttocks. His eyes travel over me slowly, almost searing my flesh with its intensity.

"Touch your cunt, girl," he says roughly.

I feel it starting; that journey only he takes me on. Into my submission, deeper each time we are together. My hands automatically drop between my legs. I know what he wants. I pull the shaven lips apart, exposing my innermost self to his possessive gaze.

"Yesssssss," he hisses. "Rub Your clit, my sweet slut, rub it for Me."

I hold the lips apart with the fingers of one hand, and begin rubbing circles around my hardening clit. It makes me cry out. We had played the night before, and it was deliciously tender from his attentions.

"That's it," he encourages, watching me intently. I gaze back, seeing his eyes darken to a richer blue. I suck in a deep breath at what I see there; the lust, the passion, the possessiveness, the wanting, the power.

I keep rubbing, my hips bucking as my knowing fingers trace those circles around my clit. My eyes begin to flutter shut with the intensity of his gaze, but that he won't allow.

"Open your eyes, my pet," he tells me. "Look at me, show me."

I can feel my heart thundering in my chest. The feelings he invokes in me are wonderous. He reaches down inside me, drawing out the naked, wanton, female animal hiding deep inside there. He knows her. He loves that tigress as he loves the sweet adoring angel.

I watch him as I keep rubbing myself for him. My juices are flowing thick and sweet, I can smell them. I know he can too. Just then, he leans down and sniffs appreciatively.

"Ahhh, yes, my little cunt," he whispers. "You are dripping for me, aren't you?"

I can only nod as my fingers continue to work on my now throbbing swollen button. How does he do it? How does me make me respond so fast, so hard to his commands, his words, his looks?

"That's it, keep rubbing, harder, faster."

I can feel the orgasm he wants coming from deep in my belly, at my very core. A fierce almost rumbling feeling, my legs spreading wider as his strong hands push them apart more. I whimper and groan, lost in the sensations he is giving me.

He watches, knowing my body better than I know myself, and waits. Waits for me to reach the edge of the cliff. He looks back and my face.

"Now, pet, cum for me, NOW," he roars.

I am helplessly flung into the depths of my own bodies capabilities. My head crashes back against the chair, my hips thrust blindly as I explode. Wave after wave rolls over me, making my body jerk almost violently.

His hands stroke gently down my inner thighs, releasing my knees from his iron grip. My body is quivering, my breath in little harsh pants. I feel him watching me.

Reaching for my blouse, he rips it open, the small white buttons flying everywhere.

"Give me your tits, slut," he orders me.

My hands reach under them, cupping and lifting them towards him.

"Lovely, simply lovely," he croons. His hands are drawn to touch them, and he covers them, kneading the soft flesh again and again. They mold against his palms. He begins pinching the hard pink nipples, tugging on them, gently at first, then not so gently.

My back lifts off the chair, following his hands. He pushes me back with those powerful hands. I hold still, giving him my breasts, knowing they are his.

He begins to maul them, roughly cupping and lifting them, squeezing them together, then apart. I try to stay quiet, but the intense pain won't allow me to be silent. I glance up his face, and he is staring at me.

He presses his fingers deeper into the yielding flesh, our eyes locked together. I suck in a deep breath, holding it as he squeezes harder still. Suddenly he releases them, and his hot wet mouth surrounds my left nipple.

He suckles it, slowly and deeply. He gradually increases the pressure and suction. It crosses that line where I know his mouth will leave a mark on my skin. He moves to do the same treatment to my right nipple. I am writhing in the chair, alternately arching my back and bowing it, but there is no escape.

He returns to the left nipples, and begins to nibble at it. His hand massages the other round globe. His strong teeth begin to sink into that tender flesh. He makes a deep rumbling growl in his chest, and bites harder.

I gasp, and feel his teeth break through the skin, just above my nipple. He makes another animal sound, and his tongue laps at the small trickle of blood that runs down the side of my breast. He tenderly licks the rip in my skin, soothing it with his touch.

He moves to the other breast, one hand encircling the soft skin around the nipple. He lowers his head, and begins to nibble at it, gently, then harder, then biting it like the other one.

I understood what he was doing. He was marking me as his; his slut, his pet, just his. Again he lapped at the blood dripping from his marks. As his hands gently held my breasts, he kissed them all over, easing the pain with his gentleness.

"Kiss me, slave," he groaned. I pulled his face to mine and sank into a deep, intimate kiss. I could taste the coppery blood on his tongue. The sheer eroticism of it took my breath away. Knowing his teeth left bite marks on my flesh, that he had tasted the blood drawn from my body, that I was his, body, mind, heart and soul.

He broke the kiss, and stood, lifting me from the chair. He sat down and pulled me back into his lap, his arms encircling me, protecting me, keeping me safe and warm.

"I love you, Master," I moaned as I snuggled closer.

His Marks by Cathy O'Niel copyright 2006