My Submissive Girlfriend

Author's note: A very short one, and it's all sex. Just to tide me over while I'm writing something much longer.

My girlfriend is a good girl. She knows to kneel for her master. The collar around her neck suits her. The welts and bruises on her arms and neck accentuate rather than blemish her beauty. I feel so in love with her at this moment, seeing her submissive, restrained, obedient. The haze of her expression tells me she's lost in her fantasy. She needs this. She craves this.

The collar on her neck is attached to a leash, held by a strong, masculine hand. A hand that isn't mine.

My own hands are otherwise occupied. One is holding my phone. The other is on my cock. I'm transfixed by this video.

"Say hello to your boyfriend, cunt," says the man filming.

"Hello, my love," says my girlfriend breathily. My heart aches.

The man filming reaches out and slaps my girlfriend across the face, hard. She lets out a low moan and I see her hand involuntarily go to touch herself.

"I can't believe how much your girlfriend loves me hurting her," he says, and gives her another couple of slaps in quick succession. She writhes and moans again. I can see tears running down her face.

My stomach is flipping. I feel sick. She looks so gorgeous like this, as a slave for another man. My cock is throbbing in my hand. I can't work out whether I want to ejaculate or throw up. I hate seeing her hurt, I hate seeing her suffer at the hands of someone else. But, at the same time, knowing that I can't protect her, and that she doesn't want protection, fills me with a burning lust.

The video ends there. I pace the house for hours, waiting for news. Is he hurting her? Is she asking him to? Has he fucked her? Do I want the answer to be yes, or no?

Finally, she's home. I kiss her gently at the door. She gives me a weak smile through watery eyes, as her makeup runs down her flushed cheeks.

"I missed you," I say, my voice cracking.

She touches my cheek softly. I know she didn't miss me. But that is left unsaid.

"I'm happy to be home," she says instead, and I pick her up in my arms. She is so light, so small. I lay her on the sofa and kiss her again. This time, the kiss back is stronger. "I need you to soothe me," she says.

I know what that means. It's not enough for her to have her adventures with him. I have to see it, acknowledge it, accept it. Make her sickness part of myself.

I kiss her welts, her scrapes, disrobing her as I go. I follow the lines of whip marks and rope burns with my lips. My tears fall softly on her skin as I work my way downwards, from her neck to her shoulders, arms and hands. She sighs gently as I caress the cuts and bruises, the places where the cuffs dug into her wrists, where she was restrained for him.

I kiss my way down her soft belly. It's worrying to see a bruise there too. Had he punched her there? I know it's a long-standing fantasy of hers, but I had pleaded with her not to do such dangerous impact play.

"I needed it," she whispers, sensing my hesitation, "I'm sorry, sweetie. Don't stop, please..."

I feel angst tighten my chest, and I don't say anything in reply. I'm frustrated with her. But I've never been able to say no to any of her wishes. I'm too much of a pushover even to stop her fucking other men. Why would she think about my fretting when she's with them?

So I just keep kissing. Her skirt is sliding off under my hands. No underwear. Perhaps he kept it as a souvenir. I can smell the sex on her now. Her natural scent, her sweat, but with the unmistakeable acrid tang of his semen.

My body responds despite myself. My cock was already hard but now it has become painful, and I involuntarily hump the air. My girlfriend notices, of course. I feel a low chuckle through her abdomen as I move on to her pubic mound. I'm inwardly frustrated. She'll take this as forgiveness that she broke the rules. But right now, I want to taste her more than I want to argue with her.

She takes this as licence to stretch out and tease me a little.

"Are you sure you want to kiss me all the way down there? I'm dirty... surely you don't want to?"

But she knows I do. She's a masochist, but so am I. I have to taste the evidence of what he did to her.

I just moan, and move my kisses in a wide circle, from her pubic mound around her swollen lips. My girlfriend doesn't shave, especially not for me. I'm already tasting their combined fluids in her matted hair. But I'm diligent. I lick and suck it, teasing the hairs back apart with my tongue between kisses.

When I reach her clitoris, her breath catches in her throat. I look up to her and see that she's lying back languidly across the sofa, her damp, messy hair forming a halo around her perfect face. Her eyes are closed and lips slightly parted. "Gentle," she says without opening them. "Master left me sore. Flat tongue..."

I obey her instruction. I alternate soft kisses on her clit, and long, slow strokes of my tongue, from top to bottom of her vulva. With every lap, a little more of his cum leaks from the loosened opening within. It's driving me wild. I want to dive in, to explore every crevice. But being rough and impulsive is for him. She values me for my tenderness. So, I just keep dragging my tongue up and down, softly, gently, cleaning her up in slow motion, as her belly rises and falls in front of my eyes with her deep breathing. My hands are wandering over her. The welts and rope marks under my fingers are turning me on even more.

*She's a girlfriend for you, but a slut for him...* says my mind. *She loves you, but she *needs* him...*

I'm still lapping up and down her swollen pussy. Flat tongue, soft tongue, just like how she wants it. She didn't want it like that from him. I bet he face-fucked her. I bet he pissed down her throat. I bet she frigged herself silly with her fingers while he did it. I bet she begged for more, for worse...

Long lick, slow licks. But I've gone too far with my fantasising. I'm tensing up, trying to hold back -- but it's too late. I'm going to cum without even touching myself.

I try not to disturb my rhythm. But I can't help but emit a strangled groan as indescribable pleasure thumps and throbs around my body and my cock spurts all over the floor. I'm cumming while I'm tasting his semen from my girlfriend's abused cunt. I'm cumming while I imagine him slapping her face, over and over again.

I take a sneak peek up. Had she noticed?

No. My princess had fallen fast asleep, lulled by my tongue and the exhaustion of such a day. I clean up the mess on the floor, then pull a blanket over her. I stroke her hair as her eyelids twitch. What is she dreaming about? Is she dreaming about me and my kisses? Or about him and his blows?