To Serve My Nature by Forced Submission
My eyes begged to serve as my nature dictates Forced Submission is my pleasure. “Please Sir, let me serve you.” I am a strong independent woman, blunt, brazen, and bold to the entire world, accept to him. To him my nature dictates me into submission. Forced submission his will. I have never understood what it is about HIM, which affects me as he does. When he is near my body goes into overdrive. My heart races, my skin tingles, my breasts swell, my nipples become as hard as pebbles, my pussy swells and starts to weep… oh lord help me how I crave to serve his pleasure.
He is a delight to my senses. His masculine look, scent, sound, taste, and feel are addictive to me. I am forced to by my own nature to serve him, to be near to his imperfect that has enslaved me, body and soul.
His looks mesmerize me. I am always surprised when I realize yet again that he is only a little taller than me. Hair of moonlight caught in strands of spider webbing, lake blue eyes, his muscles slide and ripple under the skin of his magnificent body. He is always implying that he is out of shape, that his stomach is not as flat as it was or should be, nor his muscles as tight. In truth I understand he is not what is typically thought of as a magnificently attractive male, but he is to me.
He is Perfect for me
His scent day to day is constantly changing though always pure masculine. His body’s natural musk is like an invitation to sin. I love to explore his body, sliding my face all over smelling his every mountain peak or valley.
His sounds whether a spoken word or sound dragged from his lust, his sounds ignite my mind into a frenzy of memories and possibilities. It conveys his every emotion and pleasure. I love to create such desire in him, so much pleasure that he is to out of control, and unable to be able to form words. Where only the animalistic sounds, inspired by my skilled worship of his body, are all he is capable of making.
His taste, great GOD, his taste is my ambrosia and aphrodisiac in one. Licking the sweat off of his neck, swallowing the nectar of his lips, coating my lips with the flavor of his precum, but one of the worst tortures and decisions I must face is whether to have him cum on my tongue where I can bask in that ultimate addicted taste or to have him cum in my pussy.
The way he feels…
as he uses forced submission, oh his smooth skin covered in a dusting of course fur, strong hands so gentle but callused and in control, the power in his legs and back, his beautiful little ass, that chest just perfect for snuggling on, and his cock, that pulsing battering ram of lust that regularly invades my cervix to plant his seed deep in my womb..
He has what he calls “a grower not a shower”. His cock is a perfect mouth full when he is flaccid, but great GODS doe’s it grow. When I suck his cock in my mouth it grows into and then down my throat, gaging me, blocking all air flow. I am totally submissive to my gentle dom’s desire. When he fills my tiny pussy with his cock I feel a balance of pleasure and pain. When he thrusts invading the core of my being, the balance is in constant flux. He sends me into subspace.
He is a maestro playing a woman’s body
as if it were an instrument, creating symphonies of sinful sensations for hours at a time. I must beg and plead for breaks; cuming too often, too intensely, for too long causes its own pleasurable pain.
I love to feel forced submission, him thrusting into my tiny swollen wet pussy with those brutal thrusts. Me, screaming desperate for him to join me in orgasmic bliss but forced by my nature simply submit. As a slave I follow his lead not because he forces me too, but because my spirit recognizes the damaged noble poet warrior in need of healing. He is worthy of my gift, my sacrifice, my submission… my nature dictates I belong to him… He is the one I will never have forced sex cuckold well not like with my husband. You see… I am his Kitten, his slutty slave, his harem mistress, his naughty queen, I am his… He is my owner.
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