I’m being taught to ask, and ask I do. Sometimes I give him hints, like the other day, when I cuffed myself and then spent my day in nakedness, dressed in bondage.

We watched movies, ate leftovers, snuggled under a duvet on the couch. It’s his days off, the blessed stretch of days when I get to reconnect, when he gets to relax, when we can be people, ourselves, rather than the shiftwork superheroes we’ve trained ourselves to be.

I have been looking forward to a fucking for days. I crawl into bed, wake him from his sleep, and my anxiety that I have missed my opportunity leads me to mild cynicism. He corrects my mistake by tangling his hand in my hair, grabbing a fistful at the back of my head, shoving my face down, to mouth-fuck me.

He tells me, while I salivate and take him as deeply in my throat as I can, of porn he was watching while I was meeting with my new manager. Of a girl, gagging on cock, eyes tearing up, throat stretched out, her face pressed into his pubic hair. 

I gag a little, but it is not unpleasant. He is cruel, but not inconsiderate. He, however, revels in the noises I make, and the increase in salivation that such gagging brings.

Well-lubricated now, he unceremoniously flips me over. I marvel to myself how his training has given him the strength to toss me around like a rag doll. He fucks me mercilessly, a hand in my hair, another around my throat, squeezing at my airway, making my breathing raspy and tight. I am relaxed, entirely, as he shoves his thumb into my mouth and demands I lick it.

He inserts his saliva-covered digit into my ass, and manhandles me while he fucks me, adding fingers, stretching me, not delicately. He muses, while my savage fucking continues, that he is unsure about taking my ass, or finishing in my pussy. He wants my feedback. I am drooling into a pillow, and I can only gasp.

“I am a tool for your pleasure!” I cry out.

He fucks my ass, not nicely. I am in heaven. My vibrator snakes its way into my vagina, and I reach down to assist him. This is the first time I have ever done such a thing, being completely full, and he turns it on, himself reveling in the feel of the vibrator transmitted through delicate membranes.

I feel his orgasm in every part of him, feeling his arms shake, his body quake, hearing his breathing, irregular. Intense. I collapse, unable to think, speak. He ensures I’m okay, and staggers off to wash, before returning to me.

I sleep like I have not slept in days.

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