Chapter 1 The Machines Dominion

The bedroom was a cathedral of desire, its sanctity carved out by the soft, wavering glow of candles perched along the windowsill, their flames trembling like nervous acolytes. The air was dense, saturated with the earthy musk of anticipation, the sharp bite of lubricant, and a whisper of her perfume--jasmine and something darker, like the memory of rain on asphalt. It was a scent that clung to my lungs, tugging at a memory from years ago: her laughing in the passenger seat of my old pickup, windows down, her hair whipping wild as we raced a storm home. That was the first time I'd felt this pull, this aching need to be hers, and tonight, it pulsed anew, raw and unfiltered.

The fucking machine loomed at the bed's foot, a mechanical beast with its arm poised, Big King--the 8-inch, 2-inch-wide strap-on--mounted like a crown jewel, gleaming in the candlelight. She'd laid out her plan earlier, her voice a velvet blade slicing through my restraint: she'd ride the machine while I lay beneath, my tongue on her clit, my body bound and bared for her pleasure. The silk ropes were already knotted around my wrists and ankles, their fibers soft but unyielding, pinning me spread-eagle to the mattress. The tiny black chastity cage, my jailer for days, had been pried off with a quiet click, tossed aside like a discarded vow, leaving my cock free, hard, and aching--a soldier at attention, awaiting her command.

She stood before me, a vision of power and vulnerability, her naked skin kissed by the flickering light, shadows pooling in the hollows of her collarbone, the curve of her hips. Her hazel eyes burned with a mix of lust and mischief, her lips parting slightly as she exhaled, a sound like a sigh caught halfway to a moan. She held the remote to the machine in her hand, twirling it absently, her fingers--long, deft, the nails painted a chipped crimson--playing it like a toy she hadn't yet decided to break. "You're running this tonight," she said, her tone low and sultry, a growl that sank into my bones. She tossed the remote onto the bed beside my bound hand, its landing a soft thud against the sheets, then added, "But don't expect me to keep my eyes on you. This is mine."

Her words were a lash, sharp and sweet, and I felt my cock twitch, a bead of precum glistening at the tip as her gaze flicked down to it, a smirk curling her lips. She climbed onto the bed, straddling my chest first, her thighs bracketing my ribs, their warmth seeping into me like a brand. Her pussy hovered just above, close enough that I could feel its heat, smell its promise--musk and salt, a hint of her morning coffee lingering in the air between us, a detail so mundane yet so her it made my chest ache. She leaned down, her breasts brushing my skin, nipples grazing my chest hair, and her hand found my cock, fingers wrapping around it with a slow, teasing grip.

"Look at you," she murmured, her breath hot against my ear, her voice a caress laced with venom. "So hard, so fucking desperate. Bet you'd cum right now if I let you, wouldn't you?" Her thumb swiped across the tip, smearing the precum, and I groaned, a low, ragged sound that clawed its way out of my throat. My hips bucked against the ropes, the silk biting into my wrists as I strained, her touch a spark racing down my spine. She laughed--a wicked, throaty chime that danced in the air--and pumped me once, twice, her rhythm deliberate, her eyes locked on mine, daring me to break.

I was close, too close, my balls tightening, the edge rushing up like a wave I couldn't outrun. "Please," I rasped, my voice a gravelly plea, but she pulled back, her hand abandoning me with a smirk that said she'd known exactly how far to push. "Not yet," she teased, her tone dripping with amusement as she shifted, leaving my cock twitching, untouched, a glistening thread of precum trailing onto my stomach. "I've got bigger plans."

She repositioned herself, swinging a leg over my head, her knees sinking into the mattress on either side of my face. Her pussy descended, brushing my lips, and I inhaled her--a heady rush of musk, salt, and that faint, earthy sweetness that was uniquely her, like the soil after rain. It was a scent I'd memorized over years, a map I could trace blind, and it hit me like a drug, dizzying, primal. "Start it," she ordered, her voice cutting through the haze, firm and unyielding, and I fumbled for the remote, my bound fingers clumsy with need. I pressed the button, and the machine whirred to life, a soft, mechanical hum that vibrated through the bed, a predator stirring from sleep.

She adjusted herself above me, aligning with Big King, and I watched, breath held, as it slid into her--slow, deliberate, stretching her wide with a wet, slick sound that made my mouth water. Her moan was immediate, deep and guttural, a primal cry that shuddered through her body and into mine, her thighs trembling against my ears. The machine thrust deeper, relentless, and she lowered herself fully, her pussy settling onto my mouth, hot and slick, a velvet weight that pressed against my lips. "Lick," she gasped, her hands gripping my thighs, knuckles whitening, and I obeyed, my tongue darting out to find her clit, circling it with a hunger that bordered on worship.

Her taste flooded me--salty and sharp, a tang of her arousal mingling with the faint bitterness of exertion, coating my tongue like a second skin. I flicked and sucked, matching the machine's rhythm, my lips buzzing with the effort, her wetness smearing across my chin, dripping down my neck in warm rivulets. Her moans rose, a crescendo of sound--low, then high, fracturing into gasps that bounced off the walls, drowning out the machine's hum. Her hips rocked, grinding against my face, the coarse hair of her mound scraping my nose, her scent a blanket suffocating me in the best way.

Big King plunged into her, its thick girth filling her, stretching her in ways I couldn't, and I felt every shudder, every clench as she rode it, my tongue a counterpoint to its mechanical precision. She was a storm above me, wild and untamed, her focus slipping from me to the overwhelming sensation, and I could sense it--her hands, once teasing my cock, now forgotten, her attention consumed by the machine's relentless thrust and my mouth's devotion. My own need pulsed, my cock aching, leaking onto my stomach, but I didn't care. This was her moment, her dominion, and I was its altar.

Her first orgasm hit like thunder, her thighs clamping around my head, her pussy pulsing against my tongue as she screamed--a raw, jagged sound that tore through the room, her voice breaking on the edge of ecstasy. I kept licking, drawing it out, tasting the rush of her release, a flood of wet heat that soaked my face, my nose buried in her, breathing her in. She trembled, her breath a ragged pant, and I adjusted the machine's speed, pushing it faster, deeper, wanting to give her more, to see her shatter again.

She did, harder this time, her body bucking, her moans splintering into sharp, desperate gasps--"Fuck--yes--oh God"--as the machine pounded and my tongue danced. Her clit throbbed under my lips, her arousal gushing, a warm, slick tide that drenched my chin, my cheeks, dripping onto the sheets beneath me. The overstimulation was unraveling her, and I reveled in it, my own cock throbbing with a desperate, unanswered need, a low whine escaping my throat, muffled against her.

Then, abruptly, she collapsed forward, her weight pressing down onto me, her pussy still flush against my mouth, Big King buried deep inside her. Her breathing slowed, softening into a rhythm I knew too well--sleep, sudden and complete, her body surrendering to the exhaustion of her climaxes. I froze, the remote clutched in my hand, the machine humming softly as it continued its slow, steady thrust. Her scent enveloped me, a heady fog of musk and salt, her taste thick on my tongue, lingering like a drug. I could feel the dildo moving inside her, a gentle pulse that matched her quiet breaths, her thighs soft against my ears, muffling the world beyond her.

I could've turned it off--my thumb hovered over the button, the plastic cool against my skin--but I didn't. Not yet. There was something hypnotic about her like this, asleep and vulnerable, her pussy a warm, wet seal against my face, Big King a silent partner in our intimacy. My cock ached, hard and leaking beneath her unresponsive thighs, a sticky trail pooling on my stomach, but I didn't mind. This was her pleasure, her dominion, and I was content to be its foundation, to drown in her aftermath.

Minutes stretched, the candles burning lower, their wax pooling in jagged rivulets on the sill, the room growing dimmer as their light faltered. Her weight was heavy, a comforting anchor, her pussy still dripping, smearing across my lips with every faint shift of her sleeping body. I licked her once, gently, tasting the lingering aftermath of her orgasms--a salty, sweet echo--and she stirred, a soft whimper slipping from her lips, her hips twitching faintly, but she didn't wake. The machine kept its rhythm, a slow, soothing thrust, and I watched her, my face coated in her, my breath mingling with her heat, my nose pressed into her mound, inhaling her like life itself.

Finally, I reached for the remote, my bound hand trembling with the effort, the silk ropes creaking as I stretched. I pressed the off button, and the machine stilled with a soft click, Big King resting deep inside her, a monument to the night's excess. She didn't move, her body settling into deeper sleep, her pussy a slick, intimate weight on my mouth, her scent a blanket over my senses. My face was drenched--lips glossy, chin slick, cheeks shining with her--and I savored it, the taste of her climax a lingering pulse in my throat, my tongue tracing the edges of her folds one last time.

I lay there, bound and breathless, my cock still hard, pulsing with unspent need, a quiet groan rumbling in my chest as I shifted beneath her. The ropes held me fast, a physical echo of her control, and I felt a strange peace in it--the night was hers, and I was its willing vessel. The candles flickered, their light dimming as wax hardened in silent pools, and I drifted toward sleep, her pussy pressed to my face, Big King a silent companion in the stillness. My mind wandered to that rainy night in the truck, her laughter ringing in my ears, and I smiled against her, knowing this was our truth: a dominion shared, a night surrendered, a love forged in the fire of our desires. Sleep claimed me, tangled in her, and I wouldn't have had it any other way.