Our story begins like this...
From the moment I opened the door to first meet him, in person, I was instantly drawn to him, naturally and organically, as if I've known him for years, leaned in and gave him a kiss on the lips as if he was coming in from a long day at work.
Our chemistry was spontaneous and familiar. There was something drawing me to him, the same way something was drawing him to me. We threw ourselves into each other's passionate and intimate exchanges, kissing and grabbing and feeling each other's flesh, breathing the same hot air between our lips.
But no sooner did I find myself gracefully and without hesitation kneeling before him, in my natural submissive pose, offering my full plump lips and pink wet mouth, drooling for a taste of what was waiting for me beneath his pants.
I pulled out his heavy dark throbbing beautiful strong stalk, and all I could do was salivate for the unknown taste of his warm fresh seed in my mouth and the sensation of his protein slipping back along my tongue and forming a pool at the edge of my throat before swallowing.
I wanted him to grab me under my chin, where my throat meets my jaw line with one hand, and tangle his other hand in my hair, rendering me useless but under the control of his thrusts, leaving me with no choice other than to open my throat as wide as I could and bare the full privilege of his girth, stretching my throat wide open, over and over again. Choking and gagging until tears formed and streamed down my cheeks, smearing my mascara messily down the sides of my face.
I was determined to perform a set of skills that I was rather inexperienced with, until sloppy drool, snot and his honorary hot thick and creamy load were artfully displayed on my face and chest. At which point, I would look up at him, after cleaning his huge cock off with my mouth, in desperate search of his approval of my efforts, which I would proudly present to him, as if I were wearing his seed as a badge of honor.
The actual details however, are fuzzy. But none the less, from that day forward I became fixated on a cock that left me surrendering to its merciful poundings and craving his taste in my mouth as often as he would allow it.
He fucked me so hard that evening. With each purposeful, heavily stroked assault of his big black cock tearing thru my tight pink wetness, I felt his natural dominance. It made me feel alive to know I had a strong protector whose cock I proudly and shamelessly allowed to abuse, swell, and irritate my delicate sex for the sole purpose of marking his territory.
Being sent to work only to grimace when I sat, not finding one position to alleviate the soreness he left me with. With the discomfort and pain however, I would drip silky wet pussy juice at the thought that no man has ever penetrated me or I have never allowed a man to invade me the way that he did.
With instinctive reaction to his dominance, and having an internal need to submit and yield as a show of respect when in the presence of a strong alpha male, I found myself in a transcendent state of mind, overcoming the sharp pain of his penetration, only moments later to find myself feeling pleasure at the thought that I was pleasing him.
The pain was no longer existent, it was somewhere in the distance like background music. The deeper he went the more I winced. I was observant of his expressions, acutely aware of the change in pattern of his breathing, to the rhythm in his strokes as he drove his cock deeper and deeper into my pussy. Everything about him I was aware.
His reactions to my whimpering, yelps and utters of short sharp cries told me all I needed to know. It was apparent his pleasure increased as he prodded and stretched my little pink pussy, molding my cunt, forcefully customizing a perfect fit that only He would be occupying from now on. He possesses me as the ying to His yang.
My pain became my pleasure. His pleasure is my pleasure. I gifted to him my life, my safety, and my trust as I expanded and stretched to receive all of his dark thick girth inside me, despite my innate reaction to crawl away in attempt to alleviate the electric sting of his long shaft ramming into my cervix.
Grabbing my hips from behind and thrusting hard deep strokes...suddenly he rammed into me as hard as he could and then he paused deep inside me... holding still, his cock against my quivering sore cervix. He said,
"Don't run away from me, stay still. Don't move. This is my pussy."
That explosion of emotional and sexual chemistry, which overcame us, was followed by a gut instinct to submit fully to this man I had just met.
I relaxed my body so I could accommodate his oversized manhood that would indefinitely change the way I would take cock from that point on.
He sent chills running through my body as he proclaimed his possession of me.
"This is my pussy. Do you hear me?"
Filled with delight to know I was worthy of his attention in that capacity. I responded,
"Yes, yes this is your pussy!"
***
Recognizing his natural authoritarian persona, later that week I expressed my desire towards BDSM and my inert instinct to submit to a true Dominant. My submission comes easily. Pleasing him, knowing I am his greatest treasure, knowing he cherished me like a rare gem, his prized diamond, increased my desire to serve him. To always improve and give the best of me to him, always.
I cater to Him. He does not need to ask politely, He does not need to ask at all. He states His needs and I obediently make sure I do my absolute best that they are met.
He is pleased with me, I am His 'good girl'. His little one. His precious. His favorite thing in the whole world.
My Mr. Shep is patient, calm, caring, and above all very firm. He takes on great responsibility ensuring that my best interests are met. In his presence he owns my life. He makes all decisions, determines when, where and how. And I never ask why because I trust him fully.
He has two names. When I'm a 'good girl' I am to refer to him as Mr. Shep, when I lack the discipline to please him satisfactorily I am only to refer to him as Master. My title of 'good girl' is removed from me and Master reduces my title of prestige and names me whore or slut, or whatever he feels is appropriate under the circumstances of disappointment.
He corrects me not out of anger but out of love. Master's corrective measures are put in place only to help me grow and improve so I can become the best version of myself for ONLY him. He is the center of my universe. Everything I do daily in my life, all decisions that I must make on my own, when he is not in my presence are, made with consideration to his approval and satisfaction. He is with me everywhere I go.
His punishments are fair and reasonable. I accept them and take pleasure in knowing that it pleases him to see me try so hard to ensure he is pleased with me again, because nothing makes him more happy than to always have me as his 'good girl'.
My lack of discipline, as of late, when I address him has been an issue. I have a bad habit of unintentionally disrespecting him by forgetting to always address him as Mr. Shep when ever I respond to him.
He has set forth definitive rules and expectations of me that are to be met to ensure his pleasure with me is consistent.
His number #1 rule is to always refer to him as Mr. Shep whenever I address or respond to him.
In the throws of passion, my discipline slips and I forget to do so, and he is beside himself with disappointment that such a simple command is not strictly adhered to. He says it hurts that I am so carelessly disrespectful to our relationship.
"My typical corrective measures are obviously not helping to improve you. That is my fault, not yours. Your discipline reflects upon my failure to train you properly. Your punishment will be more severe next time and will be designed to improve your discipline and respect towards me and this household," He explained.
