Matthew might best be described as a perfect gentleman. He pulls out chairs for me, opens doors for me, lets me watch Top Model reruns when the football's on. At 6ft3 he's a bit of a gentle giant and lets me away with being the lazy, spoilt little girl I am. Our friends all joke that I have him under my thumb and that I must be a hard mistress.
What they don't know is that there are times when Matt isn't such a gentleman.
I guess it's his payment for being so kind to me for the rest of the time, but when he gets me behind closed doors he likes to take absolute control of me. He uses my body whatever way he wants to, and sometimes abuses it a little too -- that's what the gags and paddles are for. At these times I'm his vulnerable little sex slave, and he's definitely not under my thumb.
Often we'll just be relaxing, maybe watching TV (one of my favourite shows of course) and he'll take his cock out of his trousers, stroking it. This is my cue to get to my knees and open my mouth. Then, I wait. If I don't act fast enough, or if I take his cock too greedily and quickly, he's likely to take a chunk of my hair in his fist and roughly correct me. Or he might leave me kneeling there for twenty minutes. Once he had me get to my knees and had me stay there for what felt like hours, mouth wide open, growing more and more wet, until he finally came over my face and silently zipped himself up again. Frustrated, I cleaned myself off, knowing better than to masturbate without permission.
He knows how much he turns me on and somehow manages to keep me perpetually teetering on that fine line between being painfully horny and a little frightened. The fear I get from him is delicious, because it's genuine. There is no roleplay in our bed, he does exactly what he wants with me, and I am not pretending to be helpless.
The reason I feel such exhilarating fear is that Matthew can sometimes go further than I expect him to. More than once I have been left bruised or in tears under his hand. He likes to have me tied up, using all kinds of intricate knots -- although we both know it's not strictly necessary as his sheer size means he has me under control. He might choose to tie only my wrists, or, more often, he might tie me into some kind of position with limited movement and little balance. Before he fucks me he often spanks me, hard, with his hand or a paddle, perhaps making me count the strokes, or simply smiling as I squirm and redden.
He calls me names our friends wouldn't believe; slut, bitch, cunt. He knows this makes me wet and he teases me for it. Beg for my cock, he'll say, Beg for me to slide it into your pussy. And I do, I always do.
