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is that a thing? let’s make it a thing. shaky-legged. my legs are shaking. my thighs are jelly. just remembering last night.

it’s the random moments that just kill me. i get changed into my pyjamas before we start watching a movie. my pyjamas are not sexy, before you start picturing it. just black pants and a baggy blue tshirt. i leave the bedroom, and come face to face with him. “back inside” he says, simply and firmly. you know that thing where your brain slows down and you can’t figure out what’s going on, because one second you’re getting into comfy pyjamas, and the next second there are 2 fingers plowing into my cunt and then he’s pulling the leather hood over my face and now i’m in total and absolute slavespace? yeah, that thing. that hood is so powerful on me. i know he no longer has to see my eyes, look at my face as i gasp. i’ve disappeared, and i’m just holes. 

so 5 seconds have passed, and he’s stripped me of my nice comfy pyjamas, i’m splayed on the bed on my back, my legs thrown apart like a total slut, the leather hood tied tight, encasing my head, keeping my eyes closed. he’s fucking my cunt with his fingers, first 2, now 3, and i am trying to relax but i can’t, i’m still in shock and i can feel his fingers scraping me inside. with his spare hand he pushes the penis gag into my mouth and snaps it onto the hood. then he takes his fingers out, gets on top of me, and i feel his rock-hard cock pushing between my cunt lips, finding the slick wetness that to my shame and embarrassment started to flow the second i saw him standing there. he pushes in, slowly, tempting me and teasing me and before i know it i’m lifting my ass off the mattress, moaning around the penis gag and rising to meet his cock with my cunt that’s suddenly aching for him. he laughs as he plunges forward, filling me to bursting and then ploughing into me roughly, over and over, breaking me open, not letting up, holding me in place and thrusting harder and harder as he bites my neck, twists my nipples, and whispers in my ear the things i need to hear. “this is how i like you, wet and willing, my slut, my slave.”

he pulls out, cums on my tits, and i can’t stop whimpering. i wait to be released, from the hood, from the incredibly heavy slavespace i’m trapped within. 

and this is where it changed for me.

the part where he just cuffed my hands to the bedhead, casual as can be. then, the spreader bar for my legs. “i’ll be back soon. don’t go anywhere.” a tap on the penis gag to make me convulsively gag. 

i’d expect to be shocked, to be upset and offended and to safeword my way out of there. but – is this normal? – i just felt my cunt ache. i squirmed. i waited. i felt his cum on my tits. i waited. i ached. i scarcely thought. i just replayed it scene by scene in my head. i waited. i was patient.

and then he came back.

sat there with me, telling me why he did what he did. told me how i’m his to do what he wants with and that he wasn’t ready to let me go just yet. that he wanted to know i would be waiting and ready for him, spread, wet. i felt my cunt ache as he talked. he must have known, because he started gently stroking me there, tickling between my lips, pushing just the tip of a finger inside me and holding it there. fucking slut that i am, i tried to rise up to get it deeper into me. he didn’t give me what i wanted though, he just kept that tip inside me so i could feel that i was open for him. he kept talking and talking. i kept aching. it was such a headfuck. buckled and bound and spread, and listening to him tell me that as his wife, my role is to be available; as his slave, my role is to be obedient; that he wants me to be this aroused, to be so wet and willing; that it’s never going to stop, and that this is my life, and that i’m to remember my role. this went on for i don’t know how long. just that tip of his finger, inside me, holding me in place, reminding me of what i wanted. 

which he didn’t give me. i didn’t get his cock in my cunt again last night. he unbuckled, untied, released me, finally. bathed me and washed me in the shower. stroked my back, held me while i shook. kissed me, praised me, loved me. told me how proud he was of me. kept me on my knees. (is it strange that this counts as loving tenderness, that he kept me on my knees in the shower and even had me keep his cock in my mouth, licking and stroking it with my tongue and taking it in until it hit the back of my throat, because i know what he likes? this all while he talked to me more? on my knees with his cock thrust down my throat? as part of aftercare? is that strange? and that i adored every second? is that what makes me his slut? anyway.)

he loved me and took care of me. put me to bed. buckled on my collar. stroked my hair. kissed me. praised me. told me what a good wife i am, a wife and a slave, and that that’s all he wants from me. and with that last thought, he let me drift off to sleep.

writing it up today, and seeping cunt juices just remembering it. so heavy, so hard, so fast.