The days that soon passed in my loneliness seemed unbearable as I reflected over the one year I had been with James. He tortured me, he pleased me, he sexed me, and he despised me, seemingly all at once. There was never just one satisfying feeling from him or for him. He always had to feel more. And it had rubbed off on me.
I was in an inhuman withdrawal. The lonely days had nothing on the bitter nights. I suffered as I found myself unable to control my beast-like lust for him. My master was gone. I had been pushed over the edge.
In my days of reflection came sick and twisted thoughts of what I could, would, do to exact my revenge. I wanted it badly. I wanted James and his wife to feel the pain that I was enduring. The emotional withdrawal and uncontrollable lust I could not satisfy. However sick it was, I wanted it. I wanted it badly. I wanted to see him, them, squirm. I wanted to make him, them, suffer. I wanted to punish them. The thoughts alone seemed to satisfy, even please, me. Heaven could only guess the pleasure I would get from executing it.
Every night, nightmares haunted me. I wanted more. James had become my drug. The sex toys left behind did me no good; they only frustrated me. I wanted my master back.
--
"Suck it like the slut I know you are," whispered that familiar voice.
I looked up with a devious smile. It was my master; he'd come back to me!
He unbuttoned his pants and his hard length flung out from the zipper, as if it had been dying for air all this time. I looked down hungrily and instinctively knelt. I wanted to taste him again, I wanted to feel the pulsing as he slid his hard cock into my mouth.
I looked up at my master, soundless, as though I was waiting for permission. His familiar impatience reared its head again as he took hold of the back of my head and shoved his cock deep inside my mouth, pushing it all the way down to the base.
I didn't flinch this time. My lust was too great.
"Dear lord, there she is! My beautiful little slut...you missed Master's cock, haven't you slut?"
I could only moan in agreement as I sucked on him, only happy that I was able to taste him once again. I could hear him mumble as he forced my head up and down the length of his cock.
"I'm going to take you as mine again tonight, you little whore. No other man can have you. You're mine alone!"
I felt myself smile, almost laugh. I didn't want to be taken by some other man. I wanted my James, my Master, my everything.
Holding back his come, he grabbed the hair on the back of my head and pulled me forcefully off of his cock. I smiled. This was the roughness I missed. The roughness I craved. He pushed me down on the floor. He dropped his pants to his knees and kneeled over me, yanking my bothersome jeans and white lace panties off.
"Why the hell didn't you wear a skirt, slut?!" he said in frustration.
I moaned in my heat, barely comprehending the question.
"I'm so sorry, Master. I will never do it again," I whispered.
