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Work exploded. It exploded like a pinata full of deadlines and panic. And existential dread. A pinata donkey of dread and doom. And sex disappeared, and time disappeared, and life was too busy. And I couldn’t have enough space for everything, including the sex life. And sex disappeared.

And work has calmed down. And life is coming back. And so is the sex. Ongoing negotiation and appetite changes, and that’s okay. 

Because when we are having sex, when it does happen, some things haven’t changed. It’s rough, it’s violent, it’s demeaning, I must clean his cock off with my mouth afterwards, and I still can’t find “no” in my vocabulary. The sex may start through mutual agreement right now. But it doesn’t end until he decides.

Last night it started innocently enough, and got pretty rough pretty quick. My face in the pillow, his cock filling me up to the point of pain, my nipples twisted and tortured. He put me on all fours, he slapped my face while I was on my back, fucking me fast and slapping me at random points just to mess with my mind. 

He pulled out before he came, and pulled me to him to spoon. We cuddled, we snuggled, I felt his cock firmly push into my cunt and him hold me in place while he slowly pushed into me to the point of me moaning in pain. He kissed my neck, gently nipped it, held me in place and rammed into me fast and deep and held me there. “Try to stop me.” So I struggled, and pushed and pulled, and I couldn’t get away, and he just pulled out and then rammed right back into me. Then more fucking. Then I cleaned him off, while he fucked my face and my cunt juices were smeared across my cheeks. Then he pulls me off him, grasping a fistful of my hair and holding me out to look at me as if inspecting me.

“Do you want me to fuck your ass?”

“…. … …. if you want to, Master.”

It had been a week or so. In went his cock, his hands pulling my asscheeks apart until I could feel my hole gaping at him, crudely, as if I was begging for it. Which I could swear I wasn’t. “This is just your saliva, and I’m already half-way in.” We reached that point where it just wasn’t going to go any further. “Let’s see what lube can do.” 

He had me now on my stomach, arms pinned behind my back, face in the pillow, and he was clearly determined to leave me with some lasting memories. His cock went in me, faster and smoother, and it reached the point, and it went past it, and I kept breathing, and relaxing to let it in, because I may as well not fight it. And there was a moment there where I swear his cock in my ass felt like a method of control, like a physical tool for totally dominating my body’s movements, and if I had wanted to escape, or make it stop, I couldn’t have even started to try, because with his cock buried in my ass – all of it, he told me, up to his balls, forced right in there as I tore and stretched around it – that cock and the sensation of being fucked in the ass, being used as a tight hole – at that point, I was so far down there mentally, I didn’t fight it at all. I just let it happen to me, and accepted it as what I deserved.

Sex may be few and far between right now, but when it happens, there’s no denying I’m still little more than a toy for him to use for sexual gratification, and that I enjoy knowing my place.