Anything He wants

And why was all my reasoning being thrown out the window, even if I knew it was wrong?

He rose up from his chair, those strong arms about me, lifting me up and tipping me back over the table as he kissed me so deeply. He had such strength in those arms, and I knew it came from his long sessions in the private gym I so often cleaned up for him. Even bent over like that, he held my ample figure in his grasp as if I were nothing.

“You’re too perfect to let go,” he murmured in the brief gap that our lips broke their seal, in which I was too dazed to even realize it.

He could have anything, anyone he wanted. So why me?

It made sense, if I was just next up in line for his little experiment in humiliation. I could understand that. Respect it, even, in some weird, twisted way.

But the idea that I was somehow special or different to him? That was throwing me through a loop.

And the fact that all my blood seemed to be rushing throughout the rest of my body and avoiding my brain wasn’t helping my situation. I was quickly getting caught up in his charms, letting my guard down. I was weakened by his strength, and I wished I could just let everything else go away so I could enjoy this.

Enjoy him.

But I didn’t want to betray my family.

So why did I move my face towards him, my lips pressed against his with such a slow, insistent tenderness?

I was entangled in his powerful grasp, lost against his hard body and passionate embrace. Those long, strong fingers sinking into my flesh, holding me by my hips and shoulder, until at last he laid me down on the table, hovering over me as he plucked a few more kisses from my pouty lips, and moved on down towards the frilled collar of my uniform at my neck.

“I want you to be mine, in every way,” he growled, like some beast in heat, drawn to me.

I was losing my mind, losing my everything, but I couldn’t fight it forever. I was going mad with desire, and my body needed what he was offering. That touch, those weird rituals, the strange behaviour…

It all spoke to me in some way I could never understand, and I’d fantasized about this moment since I first knelt at his table like some pet.

“Oh God,” I murmured, my voice sounding so strained.

He rose up, looked down upon me with such a fiery intensity in his eyes. Such a hard man, with such a passionate desire, and he made me want to give into him. That was his trick. That was what made me submit so readily to him, he kindled a desire in me to do what he wanted, as he wanted it.

With his strong hands upon my form, he twisted me about, pressed my ample chest into the table and looked me over, with my short skirt flared upwards.

“Be a good girl and lower your panties,” he growled in command.

I’d never done anything like this, not ever. Not even thought about doing it.

Even in my wildest fantasies, I couldn’t have conjured up what those words could do to me and how readily I wanted to obey.

My fingers found their way to the waistband of my panties, and I knew that I should stop it all and just walk away, pretend none of this ever happened.

But it did happen. It was happening. I wanted it more than anything, and I was lowering my panties down over my thighs with a youthful glee, and a womanly excitement.

It was so wrong, and I felt the fabric slip down over my calves, gathering around my high heels and leaving me so exposed to the man who made me want to obey, even when I knew it was wrong.

I could feel the cool air graze my nethers, and I shivered with excitement, nervousness. I could hear him working his own belt, the sound of metal and leather, and then the cloth of his pants parting.

I only dared look behind in the glass reflection of the doors, see that towering man there, ready to take me as he pulled down his trousers and revealed his thick, sizable manhood, so rock hard with desire.

“I’m gonna fuck you raw, my pet Tish,” he growled hoarsely. “Gonna pump you so full of my cum you’ll be knocked up twice over,” he pledged as he trailed his thick, purple crown along the seam of my cunny.

I was always a good girl. Always knew to avoid the very thing he was promising to do to me.

But he made me weak. Drew out my secret desires, the ones I wouldn’t admit to myself let alone anyone else, and then display them in front of me so blatantly. With such expectation.

He was the type of guy that you never said ‘no’ to, and all of my good sense was gone and in its place was a girl I didn’t recognize. A girl that pushed back against his cock, begging him with her body as a foreign, “Yes…” escaped my lips.

It didn’t take much to make him oblige, that gentle little nuzzle of my quim to his manhood, and he was spearing his way into me. A single, rough thrust and he imbed his pulsating pillar deep into my warm, waiting canal.

“Yes!” he roared out, throbbing thickly, stretching my narrow, virginal canal wider with his entry. “You’re so damn perfect! The way you feel with your pussy wrapped around my dick,” he growled, reaching up, taking hold of my ponytail as he tugged back his hips, pulling the clinging walls of my cunny with him before he thrust back in.

I wondered if he even knew he was my first, if he knew what he was taking from me. What I was giving him. There was a sharp sting, and my body tensed and tightened as he stole my virginity.

I’d never heard him curse like that before, and the idea that I had unhinged a man that was always in control, always so put together… it was a rush. A high unlike any I’d experienced, and I was crying out in unison with him. Pain and pleasure mingled.

I hadn’t realized how badly I wanted and needed him inside me until I had it, and suddenly I felt whole. All of my worries and fears slipped away and in their place was just warm, welcoming love and passion and desire.

I slammed my backside against his hips, and his cock hit against a sensitive part of me, sending a jolt of sensation through my entire body. My fingers grasped onto the heavy table, holding myself up as he took me so hard and with such need. The pain ebbed and gave way to a dull ache, and then to nothing more than sweet bliss.

“I’ve never felt so good as I do now that I’m fucking you,” he growled to me, winding my hair about his fingers as he thrust, burying his shaft deep inside me with each thrust. He smacked my ass cheek with his free hand before grabbing hold of my hip to aid in his motions. “You feel so damn good around my cock, pet,” he husked into my ear.

I shouldn’t want him to think of me as a pet, as a thing he kept and took care of, but that was what I was.

And that was what I wanted to be.© 2024 Nôv/el/Dram/a.Org.

I moaned again, my large breasts flattened into the table as my legs spread. I tilted my hips a bit more as he impaled me on his thick shaft, and he delved into me deeper.

The table squeaked as I held onto it tighter, my words peppered with cursing as he fucked me raw. It wasn’t what good girls did. It wasn’t what I did.

But I didn’t want anything to separate us. Not now.

His two hands were holding me, guiding me, and he was thrusting with such rigor. I was captivated by the reflection of our bodies moving together in the glass. The way he pumped his organ into me, filling me up and making my ass cheeks ripple with each impact.

“Take it, take my cock… take me!” he said with such force, but I could feel the yearning in his words. How much he wanted me to accept him, not just physically.

His fingers sank into my fleshy ass cheek, and he swelled inside my raw cunny.

The man who had the entire world, and all he wanted was to take me in such a primal way. My body was trembling, responding to his so acutely. He hit the right tempo, his sac slapping against my clit and threatening to send me over the brink.

But when his fingers wrapped tighter into my hair, tugging on those blond tresses as he went in harder, that was what did it. Maybe I get off on degradation. Whatever it was, I couldn’t stop it as every nerve in my body went on fire. My knees were trembling and quaking, and I’d likely have fallen if I weren’t pinned between his body and the table.

“Sir!” I screamed, because I couldn’t think of his first name at the moment, but I wanted to let him know. Needed to tell him. “I’m cumming!”

But he had to have noticed the way my pussy tensed along his cock, the muscles drawing him in and beckoning him to do the thing he shouldn’t. The thing I shouldn’t want him to do.

I did, though. Oh, how I wanted him to fill me with his cum, to claim me as his. To bind him to me for eternity.

“Cum on my cock, Tish,” he growled, demanding what was already the inevitable. The flood of warm honey coating his length, running down to his sac and adding a wetness to the loud slaps of against me. Though it slowly changed.

As I screamed out my ecstasy, he barreled towards his own. His organ twitched and grew harder inside me, his moans and groans deeper, heavier.

“I’m gonna make you mine, pet,” he growled again, and I knew it was coming. He was cumming. And I didn’t pull away, didn’t fear it. I accepted it as that handsome, powerful man took hold of me and hammered away to his own release, the two of us exploding into a jumble of exploding nerves, the two of us lost to bliss as his virile seed flooded my fertile womb.

The thought, the awareness of what was happening, gave me the sweetest orgasm I could’ve ever dreamed up. I was soaring, my entire body seeming so disconnected and yet connected at the same time.

My throat was soon coarse, my begging and pleading for him to cum in me mixed with cursing and panting and praying for more. For this to never end.

I didn’t want to come down from the high, but as he pumped those last few streams into me, and slowly stilled, I desperately tried to catch my breath.

Mr. Romy stilled atop me, breathing heavily as his tool twitched and spurt its last inside me, and I laid beneath him. So satisfied… flushed and deflowered. But happily so.

He leaned in, kissed my neck beneath my ear, licked up to my earlobe and suckled it softly. He put one of his arms about me and squeezed me tightly as we lay there atop his balcony table.

“Stay with me… in my room,” he husked into my ear lowly. “I’ll keep my promises. I’ll make everything right. Just be mine,” and his plea was so genuine, so needful. He wanted me still, even after having spent his essence inside me.

I trembled, pushing in against him, needing his warmth. The feel of his body against mine, encompassing me.

I brought my hands to his, feeling them as they still gripped my hips, and I shivered gently, because I wanted it. Oh, I wanted it bad.

Before I could stop myself or think rationally, I was nodding.

The story of Mr. Romy and me didn’t end there, though. Even if part of me felt no matter what he said, it would. I was always told men say hasty things in the passion of the moment, but despite how bold

his promises to me were… he kept them.

Perhaps it helped that the maid uniform he had made for me needed some altering in just a few short months, to accommodate for the growing bulge in my belly. Or how once I was sleeping with him each night, I could coo such sweet words into his head, and fill him with an appreciation for my feminine gentleness.

Whatever the reasons, when he cradled my pregnant form, with our child fast on its way, I got to do so guilt free. Not only did my father get his job back, but all the old workers did when he opened up a new facility in town, with better wages and safer conditions than ever before.

The irony of the fact that I was into degradation and used it to get others the respect they deserved didn’t go unnoticed. And every mealtime, when I kneel at his side, patiently waiting for the food he lovingly prepared, I appreciate that – and him – a little bit more.