Mr. D has had the idea of collaring me on his mind since the night he put a makeshift collar on me and loved how I reacted to it. He had me measure my neck a few days ago and yesterday he showed me the materials he bought to make me a collar.  Mr. D is studying leather craft and has devoted so much time to developing his skill that he has gotten amazingly good in a very short period of time.  The collar material is an unfinished belt leather and a red suede kid goat skin.  I love how he thinks of me and my needs and desires.

I have several posts to write about the activity over the past two weeks.  We went to Mexico, we played there and on the way back.  But I started writing those posts and can’t get my mind off this. Yesterday, we played and both times it was beyond intense.  Almost too intense for me.  I came away both times crying and unsure of myself and wondering if I had done what he wanted, or if my reactions were too far over the edge.  After our second time playing, he admitted that he was purposefully harsh and testing me.  He is very concerned about the idea of collaring me and how it will change us.

Yesterday, while we were running errands, he mentioned the last time I reacted negatively to our play.  It was when I felt off about him calling me slut.  When he said, “my slut,” it felt right but just being asked to be a slut felt like it was against my normal level of societal standards. He told me that he’d been very careful since then to always say ‘my’ first. Later when we came home, we were lying together on the bed.  He said, “I don’t know about us living together someday. The way we are together, we’ll never get anything done.” We are both very driven individuals in our own ways.  When we are together, we get lost in each other and the drive seems to be on hold.  It’s really nice but we spend a lot of time in bed!

I wrapped my body around his and whispered, “But I’LL get done,” and laughed.  He pinned me to the bed and began teasing me for that remark.  At some point, in the middle of him pinning me down things got much more serious. He began asking me what I am, telling me what I am. “You’re my slut, aren’t you?” I nodded.  “You’re my cunt, aren’t you?” I nodded again.  He was aroused now and the darkness was on him. “You’re my little bitch in heat. That’s what you are. Aren’t you? Beg me for my little cock, if you want it.” He knows words don’t come to me immediately.  I have to dig myself out and respond as if from the bottom of a well.

“Yes, Daddy, please fuck me.” Weak words barely dribbled out of the sides of my mouth, they were weighted down by my shame and trepidation.

“Not good enough slut. Do you think you deserve my cock with that? Not even close.  You’re going to have to do much better than that.” His hand pushed my head back and his fingers curled around my throat.  I could barely see him out of the corner of my eye but I knew he wasn’t joking now.

“Please Daddy, please fuck me.  Please put your cock in me.” The words gasped out as they had to push against his grip on my throat.  Their struggle to be free of my lips instilled them with more force than I had given them. Still, it was not enough.

“I don’t think I should fuck you, little cunt, you don’t want it.” His fingers were invading my soft folds without mercy. I was dry from running errands and not having my mind on sex at all until this. I whimpered against the pain and the desperation to please him.  I was failing.

“Please Daddy! Please fuck your little slut! Please, I want your cock inside me. Please Daddy!” This time the desperate need pulled the words like tiny rockets from my lips.  They shot past him and filled my ears with the sounds of my aching wantonness.

“That’s better. You’d better be wet.” My heart crushed, I knew I probably wasn’t wet enough. How could I do anything about that now?  He pushed his hard cock into my dry opening and I felt it ripping.  He pulled back and I prayed my body wouldn’t be a traitor.  Pushing into me again, he was in far enough that the quickening of my wetness took hold.  Thank God, I thought. Once the slickness covered his length, I arched my back and felt my body rush to meet his.  I’m ever his slut, all that is needed is his body on mine.  The response is always there, my body is ever his toy and his playground.  I moaned and grabbed ahold of him as he fucked me.

“What are you?” His eyes lanced me to the bed.

“I’m your slut, your whore, your bitch.” I knew my place, I knew the answers, I had my voice.

“Good.” He growled as he thrust repeatedly into me.  He held my feet together, my legs on his chest, my feet to the side of his face.  He looked at me and fucked me through the tight opening he created between my thighs.  I moaned my approval.  He sucked on my toes and it felt incredible.  Never has that been a desire of mine but right then it was so hot.

He let my legs down and put his hands behind my knees.  He pushed them up to my shoulders and thrust deeply into my pelvis.  It feels like he’s splitting me in two when he does that.  His cock goes really far inside me in this position.  It is at once intensely erotic and slightly uncomfortable.  I looked up at him and his eyes were shaded.  He looked at me with a pure intensity.

“Who am I?” The fucking continued unabated.


“Yes.” Deeper thrusting.

“Who am I?” My immediate thought, the one that came rushing in without hesitation, was that he was my Master.  He was in full virile control of me and us.  But, I wasn’t to call him that.  He didn’t want that.  It wasn’t our agreement.  I couldn’t say it.  The words cluttered and bumped around in my throat as I clamped my mouth shut.  But he was still asking.

“Who am I?” His voice was deep and harsh, forceful under tight control. I had no other answer and he was commanding me to respond. He slapped me across the face and it  shocked me deeply.

“Answer me.” He barked.

“Master.” I sobbed out the words. “My Master.” I want this.  He knows I do.  To me he is my Master. Has been for a long time now.  We don’t put it in those terms, though.  But I am his completely.

“Yessss.” He groaned and came hard inside me. After recovering and while still inside me, he said, “I want your mouth on Daddy’s cock. Clean me up everywhere from my balls to the creases of my legs.”  I got between his legs and licked him clean, every inch of him.  While I did this I was shaking.  It was harder than I thought to admit that I wanted him to be my Master.  The thought of us in this new dynamic fills me with joy and with fear.

“Did you like calling me that?” I nodded as I cleaned him.  I couldn’t talk.  It had been so shockingly hard.  He had given me no quarter.  And he had slapped me. His level of dominance had been different.  He told me that was on purpose.  That we would have to talk seriously about what the changes would be if we did this.  We talked a little and then I went to the store because we were having guests over.  My vanilla friends were coming over for the first time.  They were coming and I could barely hold myself together.  I sat in the car at the store shaking.  Why was I so affected?  What had he done differently?  I felt like something happened and it was over my head.  I sensed a change I just couldn’t grasp it entirely yet.

10 thoughts on “Submit

  1. Shalom

    Wearing His collar has changed me, deepened my desire to be His. i’ve always been His cunt, His slut, His whore, but the collar has energy. i am set into a trance, emit a little whimper and just go to a different place. SO GOOD!!

      1. Shalom

        With the collar, i also transitioned from sub to His slave. That connection makes my heart (and other things) sing! 💜

  2. Pingback: Tested | Enigmatic Amor

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