Intimate Ownership Coming Home

A story from her perspective. Girl gets shown just how owned she is when her Dom arrives. Not for the faint of heart...

Includes fingering, blowjobs, spitting, slapping, choking, rough sex, intimacy, piss drinking, anal, plugging cum, degradation, begging, and oral.

You walk in the door. I expect you to be surprised to see me, but you merely take a breath before telling me to get on my knees. Maybe it's the black choker you sent me, collaring me, marking me as yours. Maybe it's because we've been apart (ever notice how our chemistry seems to build instead of waiting patiently, growing volatile and explosive?). Maybe it's the white lacy undergarments peeking out from under my dress, your favorite style. Whatever it is, my intent is clear and you waist no time expressing yours. Except true to form, you play it much cooler.

I'm on my knees before the command even registers. As I blink away the shock of my unconscious submission, it occurs to me that you're unmoving, except for the unhurried motion of rolling up your sleeves. It feels like everything inside me clenches as I watch you watching me, and I desperately fight the desire to lower my gaze from the depths that threaten to drown me.

"Take off your dress."

I can barely breathe, much less manage muscle control, but I do my best to slowly unzip and slide the soft fabric to the floor. And still, you watch me.

When I can no longer take the tension, I start to crawl toward you on my knees. I can't look away from your eyes, but there's too much fabric between us and it begins with that pesky belt. My fingers meander to the metal, and I have to break eye contact to accomplish my goal and set my favorite toy free.

But there's a hand on my throat and a voice in my ear, freezing my actions instantly.

"I didn't give you permission to play, did I?"

I hesitate to respond and narrow my eyes at yours, my stubbornness leaking through in spite of the command. But the hand tightens and suddenly I seem to lose my grasp on being willful.

"No. No you didn't."

Somehow I expect punishment and avert my eyes again, embarrassed for losing any semblance of chill I might have had, but I should have known that isn't your way. When your hand slides to my hair and gently pulls my head back, forcing me to look at you, I clench again. You don't look angry. You... smolder. You honest to god smolder at me.

"Open your mouth, little girl."

Without hesitation, I do as I'm told. Maybe I'll get my favorite toy after all?

Your thumb traces my lips and slides in, and I couldn't keep myself from grasping and sucking if my life depended on it.

"Who do you belong to?"

Fuck me. I may have just cum.

"You."

Your thumb is taken from me and my eyes follow it hungrily.

"That's right, sweetness. And you want to be a good girl for me, don't you?"

God help me, those eyes. There's no possible answer besides:

"Yes daddy."

"Good girl. Show me you can behave. Open your mouth."

I do. I want literally anything you put in it. No matter how gentle or perverse, I'm desperate for anything you have to give.

Fucking hell. Saliva is hot. Who in their right mind saw that coming? But the wetness between my legs and the trembling of my muscles as you use such a simple thing to assert your dominance suggests that maybe I'm not in my right mind anymore.

I didn't know I was so hungry. My mouth pops back open. The chuckle that makes me weak-kneed rolls over me and I nearly collapse.

But my love is a benevolent one, because I find that the cock that's haunted my fantasies suddenly replaces the empty space on my tongue. You tell me to take all of it, and I'll be good goddamned if I fail that request. Deep, hard, messy. I didn't know I possessed so much saliva or that I could lose myself so completely while sucking on you, but here I am, as lost as you while I take every inch of you and bring you to the brink.

But then you take it away again. I'm bereft, until I realize I've somehow been turned around, the scrap of lace ripped away as you expose my backside to your scorching gaze.

And then you're inside me, fucking years off my life and making me scream my release. Both of our names exhaled like pleas as you fill me, as I drip around you. But like the goddamn miracle you are, it's not over, and I suddenly realize I'll be bruised and hoarse by the time you're done with me, a thought that probably makes me light up like a fucking spotlight.

I want you to use me. I want you to break me into pieces. I want you to shatter with me until the only thing left is mingled breath and sated souls.

My internal revelry stops instantly when you pull out, leaving me empty. Goddamnit you belong here. I need you to fill me, I need you to make me whole. I'm sure I whimper. I'm sure I squeeze internally and try to lean back to find you again.

But your fingers find me first... playing with my clit like it was made for you.

"Again, little girl. Cum for me."

And I do. I bet everyone for 5 miles knows it, too.

And then your fingers are in my pussy, teasing me, before rising to my mouth.

"Don't waste any."

You know. God you know. If given a chance I won't waste a single drop. I clean your fingers like it's my last meal, tasting both of us, sweet and salty and laced with intent. This mixture has a purpose, and deep down I know you're chasing it. Even deeper I know I am too.

But once again, my constant inner dialogue is ruthlessly halted as those same fingers return to my pussy, as you coat them again. But not to taste this time. Instead you tease my asshole as your other hand finds my clit again and I use every ounce of willpower to keep myself from crumbling to the floor.

"Tell me you want it."

"God I want it" is all I can manage. When did I become 90% air?

"Tell me what you want, little girl."

Cruel. Downright dirty rotten...

"I want you to fuck my ass."

I can feel your smirk, you son of a bitch, but no power in the 'verse could get the breathiness and desperation out of my voice. You know exactly how hard it is for me to form words when you're making my body sing.

"You want me to fuck this tight little asshole, little one?"

And that finger keeps moving, in, out, in out...

"Please... please daddy. Please fuck my ass."

It's when I feel you slide in that I start to crumble to pieces. Your fingers clench on my hips as I lean into your thrusts, each of us urging the other deeper and harder.

I can hear you say my name, I can hear you losing control, but all I can do is lose myself in the feelings, occasionally reaching down to play with my own clit, probably because I'm a masochist and know the combination will undo me.

When you fill me, I could die. Every muscle in my body clenches and releases, spasming around you, squeezing every last drop out of you, my cum dripping down my own thighs. If I could form a coherent thought, I'd know that when you leave the cocoon I've made for you, I'll find a glass plug quickly in your place. We both love when you fill me. We both love even more when I keep you inside me.

Plug in place, you gently pull me up, keeping me from collapsing like some Victorian damsel at your feet. Somehow you manage to maneuver me to the shower without incident, and at some point I realize that my cells are buzzing insistently, calling to you. Keeping my hands to myself is impossible.

We step in, and you kiss me while I clean you. I think I say I love you a thousand times, or maybe I never say it loud. It doesn't matter - we both know.

When I hear that chuckle again, I realize I've attached myself to you like a desperate baby sloth again.

"You're a hungry little thing, aren't you?"

I may have stopped breathing at those words. I can't help the guilty grin, knowing you know I can't get enough of you. Your fingers find those sensitive places, forcing me to grasp onto your shoulders to stay upright.

"I need to taste you, sweet girl."

And just like that, I'm on my knees again.

"But first, daddy is going to give you a reward for being so good. Would you like that?"

Wet and on my knees before you, the shiver that runs down me is pure adrenaline cut with submission. Anything. Everything. No words come, only wide eyed staring. I think I know. But I'm afraid to say, in case I'm wrong.

But then the hand is around my throat again, removing my thoughts, my fears, my self consciousness. I'm reduced to nerve endings.

"Do you want to be a dirty little slut for me?"

God. Yes.

"Yes daddy."

Breathe. Gulp. Breathe.

"Say it."

"I... I want to be your dirty little slut."

Someone must have murdered me because no way in hell this is real life. Yeah, I've toyed with the fantasy and shyly admitted it to you, but... I didn't think...

"Open your mouth, little girl."

Like a teenage girl backstage with a boy band, my mouth pops open.

"Drink, love. Drink daddy's piss like a good little slut."

And I do. Eagerly, desperately. I only realize my eyes have closed when you tell me to look at you. That look, that control, and the taste of you combine and I find myself shuddering to orgasm as I take every bit of you that I can into myself.

When you're done, and after I giggle and blush and hide my face like a wayward schoolgirl while I brush my teeth and rinse my mouth, the mood shifts. We depart the shower, barely drying before you draw me to bed.

And that's when the snuggles start. I sigh in pleasure as you give me my spot, the place where my head nestles perfectly into your shoulder, fingers lazily drawing patterns and writing words on each other's skin that neither can verbalize.

Somehow, I find enough courage to ask for the only thing missing from our perfect night:

"Do you think maybe you could fall asleep inside me?"

It's a long shot, I know it, but I also know that I feel empty without you inside me and I have to try. I feel you still beneath my cheek and begin to panic internally. But it's you, so I should have known better.

"What makes you think I was done with you? I still haven't tasted you yet."

Before I can blink, I'm on my back as you further unravel me, probably using magic to force my atoms to split apart and let you in before they can form back together.

And then you make love to me, because we're both too far gone to pretend our souls aren't trying to join back together. Devastatingly slowly you push into me, yet somehow reaching to my very core with every push.

I lose control of my fingers as I fight to keep the words in my head from slipping out. A losing battle, undoubtedly. I can't stop myself from seeking solace in your lips, can't seem to stop my hands from grasping your muscles as you work over me, can't seem to stop my hips from rising up to meet you or my legs from locking themselves around you.

"Fill me. Please god fill me."

It's a mantra on my lips, on a loop in my head. I need you inside me. I need every molecule of our skin to touch. I need you to fill me with your essence. I need to feel you explode in my deepest places. I need...

Your scream, mingled with mine.

And then all semblance of myself disappears and I become nothing but a vibrating, trembling mess of cries and words and promises, all of my energy spent in squeezing around you, forcing you to give my womb every bit of yourself, embracing every inch of you until there's no space left to be different beings.

A sleepy heart drawn on your shoulder and yawn signal the end of our energy. If I had any strength left, I'd keep you here, inside me. Home.