The Deconstruction of John

Celine walked in, took off her jacket and looked over to John sitting on the couch watching baseball. He was eating fried rice rather messily, and had not even given her a second look when she walked in. She was so tired. For hours she had just wanted to go home from work and see her man, but this is not what she hoped to see walking through the door. It hurt her that John did not even say "hi", "how are you?", "I love you." He just sat stony gaze lost in the television.

"Did you mail the power bill today?" She cut in.

John looked over with a blank look and answered dispassionately "Oh I forgot, damn. I'll mail it tomorrow, ok?"

"You said that yesterday."

"I'm sorry, hon—really tomorrow, in the mail."

"Yeah." The anger thick in her voice. But John didn't even blink, just sort of twisted his face up for a second and then began watching baseball again.

For two hours Celine had fought to keep a 14 year old boy alive. It was nerve shattering work. When she was done she was overcome with exhaustion but had to drag herself through three more hours. In her heart, all she wanted was for was John to just ask her how she was, to tell him how excruciating her shift was, how she had saved a young man's life.

The entire drive home she worked out the story adding little moments of drama. Ordering the crazed struggle that her and her coworkers were embroiled in. She wanted him to know the profound satisfaction it had brought her and be proud of her. She needed him to spoil her a little, reward her without asking, give her what only he could.

But John just sat, spilling little pieces of Broccoli on the couch with each forkful. Her fatigue was lifted, converted to rage.

"John, go to our room." The words were delivered with low, forceful tones. John peered over his fork with a skeptical look.

"Hon, it's the ninth inning."

Celine narrowed her eyes and straightened her lips. She was not going to repeat herself.

"Ok, ok, ok." John spoke with a nonchalance that made it seem as if he were doing her a favor. He put his bowl down and strolled to their bedroom, not turning the television off. Celine turned the TV off and followed behind.

Celine entered and closed the door behind her. John looked up at her as content as a cow and now—she couldn't believe it—looking a bit annoyed.

"Strip, all of it."

"But ho—"

"Now."

John slid his clothes off and through them into a crumpled little pile at the foot of the bed.

"You didn't ask me about my day."

"I—" Celine slapped the excuse right out of his mouth. She didn't even think before doing it and felt guilty for an instant. But now, seeing John's eyes cast down, something else entirely began to fill her: satisfaction.

"You didn't mail the power bill." John looked up at her from underneath heavy eyelids, opened his mouth, but caught himself before words exited.

"You're a slob and a pig. Did you see the shit you were spilling all over the floor?"

John didn't answer.

"Well did you?"

"I-I'm sorry, dear, I won't..."

"Just shut up. I'm fed up with bullshit. You think you can just talk your way out of everything. You say you want me to be your Dom, but you show me no respect—really, I blame myself. I've let you become this. I've indulged you."

Satisfaction. Strength. Lust.

"Lie on your back." John rolled to his side of the bed and laid stiffly on his back.

"Move to the center of the bed, and close your damn eyes."

He wriggled over, clearly still not taking her seriously.

"Your eyes, close your eyes!" John's vision left him just before the burn of another slap ignited his cheek.

John's eyes closed, Celine relaxed, sunk her shoulders, slouched; she looked down on John's naked body rigidly laying at the center of their bed. She loved him so much. He looked so helpless, she thought for a second of letting him off the hook. Kissing his eyelids and caressing his downy chest. Her passion and love grew for him every day. But something she has never felt before was growing in her and it wasn't soon to be stopped.

Slapping him felt good. Right. The moment after her first blow had landed on him, the second his eyes were cast down and she still was a little unsure of her action, she saw an expression on John's face she couldn't quite describe but struck her as unusual and beautiful. It wasn't respect but, maybe, fear.

Celine peeled her sweaty work clothes off her body and threw on a robe.

"Open your eyes."

John looked sheepishly at Celine. She walked over to the closet and pulled from it four lengths of rope that had been buried by disuse. She circled the edges of the bed and tied John's hands to each bedpost. She then walked back to the closet and removed a blindfold, which she tied snugly around John's head.

Celine picked out a black leather corset that she rarely wore from the closet, very high heeled boots she usually detested and a pair of fishnet stockings. She then left the room silently.

Walking to the bathroom Celine hung her robe on a hook and placed the clothes on the towel dresser then walked into the shower. Bending down to crank the hot she noticed for the first time that her vulva was dripping wet. Had punishing John really been so exciting for her?

Exiting the shower Celine toweled off her body. She had shaved her legs and thinking how it bothered her that John had asked for her to grow out her pubic hair, had shaved that clean to. It was her goddamn body.

Dry, she slid her clothes on, stepped into the heels and sprayed a little of her favorite perfume over her neck and thighs. Looking up from her boots she caught herself in the mirror, and thought 'goddamn, I'm hot.'

John lay bound, in silent confusion. He heard Celine enter the room.

"So you want to be my slave, huh honey? You want to be my slave on your terms. Isn't that right? Well honey, since you want to be my slave, tonight I'm going to break you. I'm going to break you like every mistress must break the pathetic sense of free-will you little men have. I'm going to shatter and put you back together. You want to know submission? Well, John, allow me to show you."

Rounding the bed Celine untied the ropes from the bedposts.

"Get on your hands and knees."

John scrambled to his feet and then sunk to his knees.

Celine removed her whip from the closet.

"Do you know what happened to me at work today?"

John didn't answer.

"I asked you a question." And on that period she brought a cruel blow down across John's behind.

"No."

"No? No?"

Another blow greeted John's insolence.

"No, Celine, I don't know what happened to you at work today."

"Well John I busted my ass for two hours straight saving a boys life. But you didn't ask me about that, did you?"

Before an answer could slip from his lips, another hard blow fell across his butt, the whip ends grazing his balls.

"No, no Celine."

"No more Celine, you haven't the right to call me that anymore. Call me mistress, slave."

"Yes mistress."

"I told you to mail that power bill, but you didn't, did you?"

"No—"

Another blow landed on his backside.

"Shut up." With that she let loose. Blow after blow. John cringed, his head swimming in disbelief. John bit his lip and assumed it would end soon, Celine had never unleashed such punishment on him. But tonight he would not get off so easy, and past every point that John expected her to stop the blows continued to rain. In his mind his will strained and then broke, no longer did he even wonder when the punishment would end, his heart slid irretrievably into Celine's possession, and without words he understood that to question her will was useless. His punishment would end when she decided it would.

Celine no longer considered the pain she wrought on her love. Each blow solidified her permanent dominance over John. She could feel her wetness running down to her upper thighs. The excitement had stirred her into a frenzy and she almost couldn't stop, but eventually grew bored and tired of striking him.

"Slave?"

"Yes Mistress?" Johns words starting almost before Celine could finish.

"Oh, how good and obedient you sound. How cute you are, like a little girl, with a little pink bottom. It does look sexy, all pink—sexy little butt."

Celine walked up beside the bed and looked at John from the front. His penis was dripping precum.

"Oh would you look at that," Celine said, fiercely grabbing hold of John's swollen cock. "Look how wet the little girl is, like a little slut that wants to be fucked—is that so, are you a little slut that wants to be fucked?"

"Yes mistress."

"Of course you are. You don't have to tell me, slut."

Celine walked to the closet and grabbed her feeldoe. She inserted it into herself and turned the vibrator on the base to a low purr.

"Get on your back."

John rolled over, wincing for a second as his scalded cheeks touched the sheets. Celine climbed on top of the bed and kneeled at his side.

"You like my big cock?"

"Yes mistress."

"So much bigger than your little clit, your wet little clit, slut."

"Yes mistress."

"Yeah, you want me to fuck you, fuck your little slut brains out?" Celine began to move around John's body rubbing her cock on his arms and chest. She moved up and onto his face, trailing its head over his cheeks and over his lips.

"Spread your legs. Show me that tight little ass of yours."

John complied moving his thighs apart. Celine slid her body over his and positioned herself between his thighs. She pulled his thighs up and over her shoulders exposing John in a most indecent way. Positioning the bottle of lube at his anus she squeezed into him a healthy amount.

"Is the little girl ready to be fucked?" But before John could answer Celine savagely buried her entire cock into his ass. John let out high pitched sigh that quickly became a ragged moan as Celine began to thrust herself feverishly into John's ass. Never had John been fucked with such force or desire. Celine took hold of John's hips and began to work up to a hard determined rhythm. Soon the room was filled with the percussion of Celine's hips slapping against John's upturned ass, and their moans; John soft, high-pitched, Celine low, husky. The feeldoe was pushing Celine to a massive orgasm and as the pleasure buzzing in her vagina began to spread to her toes and up her spine her thrusts became harder, more emphatic. The whole bed squeaked beneath her violence and John gave her eyes that looked more in love than she had ever known. His voice stuck in the soft mantra "fuck me, fuck me."

"Aaaahhh!" Celine shouted as her orgasm overwhelmed her and her body collapsed on John's. His arms sprang from his sides and swallowed her spent body lovingly. Celine rested for a moment in John's embrace, but soon began to feel a great horniness build again in her.

"I'm not done with you slut," she said kind of softly, pulling her body off of John's. She removed the feeldoe and in an instant was once again kneeling over John's body, this time with her butt resting on his face.

"Worship my ass, slut, tell me how much you love it, how you worship me."

"Oh, I worship you, mistress, you are my love and my life, and I worship your perfect ass. I love your big perfect ass, mistress." And with these words spoken, he began to feverishly plant kisses all over Celine's grand butt.

"Yes, that's right, kiss it, kiss it slut." John planted kisses all over both cheeks, relishing being beneath his beloved mistress, working in circles slowly creeping further towards the middle of her cheeks, to her sopping wet vulva.

"Oh, so slut you want to taste me do you? You wanta taste my cunt?"

John's mouth opened for a reply but instead he was treated to mouth full of labia. Celine was now fully relaxed supporting her weight on John's face and rubbing her vulva up and down John's lips and chin. He desperately attempted to keep pace with her, guiding his tongue towards her swollen clitoris, but, again, Celine was overwhelmed with passion and could not help but grind her wet mound on John's face. She was literally fucking his face. Finally John caught the rhythm and the two began a sensuous dance that made Celine come over and over. John's tongue working in a perfect counter-rhythm to Celine's furious humping. Gliding up and over, in little figure eights, long loving strokes, and short wanting pokes, over her inner labia and on and around her swollen clitoris. Celine orgasmed and orgasmed, losing count as the shear bliss began to erase all thought from her head. Finally, spent, she lowered her upper body down to John's legs and ceased moving entirely. John, lost in an orgasm of his soul, having leaked great loads of cum throughout, relaxed beneath the glory of Celine's behind and began to nod off.

He knew that from now on he belonged to his Mistress, Celine Adams, and that under her strict rule he would finally be fulfilled. Celine now understood the erotic passion of being a real Dom, the joy of making the man you love worship you and couldn't wait until she could next have John submit to her. As sleep began to fill her brain visions of how she would break him next began to fill her head, and his as well. Nothing would ever be the same between Celine and John, and both couldn't be happier.