Kind of accidently making a series out of these two characters. Might be a bit close to home!
----
Dominant to Ann (M/F – BDSM)
It had been quite a while since we’d played together, but we each knew the other so well it barely mattered. We'd started flirting again and had fallen into lockstep with each other instantly, like no time had passed at all.
As expected, Ann was already kneeling when I stepped into the room — naked, breath held, chin raised in fragile defiance. Her slender wrists hung in her lap, enveloped in leather cuffs, a thick collar snug at her throat, the leash coiled neatly on the floor beside her like a promise.
If it wasn’t for that slight look of defiance, I could have believed that she was actually going to be a good girl for once. Or maybe she just needed that moment to remember what it felt like to be wanted exactly like this—that burning need, that adoration.
I stood silently in front of her, letting her feel the weight of my presence. Her eyes flickered up, testing, hoping. She didn’t dare speak, but she didn’t need to.
“Still a needy little bitch,” I murmured, crouching down to meet her face. “Do you even remember how to behave, or did that sweet little brain forget everything the moment I stopped choking it?”
Her lip trembled — not from fear — no, Ann didn’t break easily — but from longing.
I gripped her jaw, fingers digging in just enough. “I’m going to remind you, pet. Slowly. Thoroughly. And then I’ll ruin you for anyone who ever tries to touch you gently again.”
Her breathing caught when I released her jaw and rose to my feet. I circled her slowly, shoes echoing in the quiet space, watching the way her body followed the sound. Tense. Expectant. That barely contained whine in her throat was almost a question: Will you hurt me? Will you hold me after?
I paused behind her, bending down, placing my hands on her shoulders. Gently, I slid them down her arms to her wrists and pulled them together behind her, linking her cuffs with a soft click that echoed.
I stood and continued around her once more, scooping up the coiled leash and clipped it on with a slow, deliberate pull. She whimpered as the chain tugged her collar tight for a second—just enough to remind her what she was. Mine.
"Up, my little bitch."
She moved quickly, scrambling to her feet without needing to be told twice. I loved how eager she still was, even trembling like that. I ran my hand down her neck, fingers trailing over her collarbone, pausing at the curve of her breast. Her nipples were already hard. The piercings through each that I loved so much glinted in the half-light.
"You're going to thank me for every mark, aren't you?"
"Yes, Sir," she breathed, already half-gone. She'd usually spit the word Sir, show some defiance—cheeky—but the weight of passed time seemed to have softened her resolve. She wanted this so badly.
My palm cracked across her cheek before she finished the second syllable.
Her moan was soft, bitten off with a gasp. She chewed at her lip.
Another slap, this time the other side. “Louder.”
“Yes—yes, Sir—thank you,” she stammered, wobbling slightly. The edge of shame in her voice just made it sweeter.
I stepped closer and wrapped my hand in her hair, yanking her head back to expose her throat. The leash jingled between us as I pulled it tight, watching her eyes widen. She was flushed now, lips parted, pupils dilated. Teetering on the edge already.
“You remember this part, pet?” I whispered, wrapping the chain once around my fist and drawing it taut behind her neck. “Remember when you’d beg me to take your air away, just to feel me give it back?”
A tiny nod, and then I closed my grip.
She didn’t panic—she never had. Her lashes fluttered, her body leaning into mine, desperate for more even as her breath faltered. I counted the seconds silently, watching her crumble, held right there in that delicious borderland between control and chaos.
Then I released her.
She dropped to her knees with a wet gasp, head resting against my thigh like it was the only thing keeping her tethered. I stroked her hair gently, coiling a lock around my fingers.
“There she is,” I murmured. “My good little bitch.”
A shiver ran through her as I spoke, and her hands—still bound behind her—twitched as if reaching for me. I knelt in front of her and pressed my forehead to hers, letting our breaths mingle.
“You like being broken open, don’t you? You like when it hurts and I stay. When I call you names and still hold you like you’re precious.”
“Yes, Sir,” she whispered, tears threatening now.
I smiled and kissed her — patient, claiming, unhurried.
“Then we’re just getting started, pet.”
I pulled her up again by her hair and bent her over the end of the nearby bed — her face pressed down, ass exposed, thighs trembling, wrists still cuffed tightly behind her back, leash dangling.
Her skin was already tingling — anticipating, bracing — because she knew what was coming.
I paced slowly behind her, belt in hand, lightly dragging the leather across her ass like a promise.
“You will count. You will thank me. You will not beg me to stop unless you mean it.”
I leaned in, whispering just above her ear, breath warm and sharp.
“If you lose count… I’ll start over. And I hope you lose count, pet.”
I stepped back. Raised my arm.
CRACK.
“One, Sir—thank you, Sir.”
The belt lands perfectly. Sharp. Controlled. A clean bloom of heat.
I watch her shoulders tense, her thighs flex. And I smile.
CRACK.
“Two, Sir—thank you, Sir.”
Her voice already wavers. Good. I want her trembling by five.
CRACK.
“Three, Sir—thank you, Sir.”
I pause. Run my hand over the red stripe blooming on her skin.
“So pretty… I might frame this ass when I’m done.”
CRACK.
“Four, Sir—thank you, Sir.”
She’s panting now. Not from pain — but from the unbearable submission of it.
CRACK.
“Five, Sir—thank you, Sir.”
Halfway. Her knees are shaking. I hold her firm, placing my other hand on the small of her back.
But she doesn't beg. She doesn’t run. She wants this.
CRACK.
“Six, Sir—thank you, Sir.”
I drag my nails down her back.
CRACK.
“Seven, Sir—thank you, Sir.”
Her voice is cracked and breathy now.
So close to breaking. So close to letting herself go entirely.
CRACK.
“Eight, Sir—thank you, Sir.”
Almost done. But I don’t let up.
CRACK.
“Nine, Sir—thank you, Sir.”
And then I pause. Let her feel the silence. Let her ache at that moment where she doesn't know when the next strike is coming. Then—
CRACK.
“Ten, Sir—thank you, Sir.”
And I drop the belt and kneel down beside her. My fingers gently trace the belt marks, not cruel now, but possessive. Adoring.
“You did so well for me, pet,” I whisper softly.
“Took your punishment. Stayed still. Counted like a good girl.”
I brush the hair from her face. Lean in. Kiss her cheek right where the tears are drying.
“You’re my good girl now, aren’t you? My obedient little thing. And I’m so proud of you.”
Ann nods — weak, trembling, but glowing.
Her breathing was ragged, every inch of her glowing. Her ass marked just the way I liked, red and hot beneath my touch. I stayed there for a moment, just admiring her, brushing the backs of my fingers across her inner thigh until I felt her shiver.
Then I rose, took her leash in my hand, and pulled her upright by it instead—slow, steady, no rush. Her muscles trembled from the effort, but she obeyed. Good girl.
"On your knees again," I murmured, voice low and warm now, wrapping the leash around my hand as she slid from the bed and sank obediently to the floor.
I stepped in closer, standing tall before her, and tilted her chin up with two fingers. Her eyes were glassy, her face streaked with the faintest remains of her tears. But she looked proud now. Beautiful in the way only she could.
I slid one hand into her hair, slowly, possessively. Not yanking—just guiding.
“You took it all, didn’t you?” I said. “Held still, counted every single one. You needed that, didn’t you, little bitch?”
“Yes, Sir,” she whispered.
"And now you need this," I added softly, drawing her head forward until it rested against my thigh.
She melted there, sighing against me as she nuzzled into the fabric, her breath warming me through the clothes. Just resting. Not needing anything else.
My hand stayed tangled in her hair. I didn’t push her. Didn’t need to. This wasn’t about getting off. This was about her—about letting her bask in the aftermath of being good. Being mine.
“You know you’re safe here, right?” I said, quieter now. “You’re perfect when you’re like this. And I’m not done with you yet. But for now... just rest.”
A soft whine escaped her lips, muffled against me. Not protest—contentment. That little sigh a pet makes when it's curled at your feet, used up and adored. I smiled.
“Good girl,” I whispered. “Just breathe.”
After she knelt there, content, and at peace for what seemed a happy eternity, Ann nuzzled against my crotch and looked up, raising her eyes to meet mine.
“Please,” she whispered, her voice barely audible, desperate, the words catching in her throat.
My hand tightened around her hair again. I loved the feel of her submission, her surrender to everything I had to offer, and I pulled her face gently against the fabric of my trousers. Not hard, but in control, guiding. Soft, deep, slow.
“You want more, don't you?” I asked, my voice low and gravelly, the weight of my words hanging between us like a promise.
“Yes, Sir,” she breathed, the word coming out as a whisper, needy, vulnerable.
I unzipped slowly, deliberately, never taking my eyes off her. Her gaze stayed locked to mine, wide and expectant, her breath quickening just slightly as the zipper came down. I freed myself and let the weight of it rest against her cheek, not pushing, just letting her feel it—warm, heavy, hers to worship.
"Go on then, pet,” I said quietly. “Show me.”
Ann shifted slightly, hands still cuffed behind her back, adjusting her knees without complaint despite how sore they must be. Her lips parted reverently, and she kissed the tip with tenderness. Then again, firmer. Her tongue flicked out, tasting me, learning me all over again.
She started slow—just the way she liked to, building the moment. Her tongue worked carefully, lovingly, like she wasn’t just sucking cock, she was saying thank you. Saying I missed this.
Her lips wrapped around me, and I exhaled as she took me deeper, inch by inch, her eyes never leaving mine.
“That’s it,” I murmured, hand back in her hair, stroking slowly. “Just like that. Good girl.”
Her eyes fluttered at the praise. She hummed around me, sinking deeper. I let her work—soft, obedient, hungry—until her pace grew more desperate, less performative. Her head began to bob faster, tongue flicking, cheeks hollowing.
“Look at you,” I breathed, tightening my grip slightly. “Such a filthy little thing when you’re happy.”
A muffled moan vibrated around me. She liked that. Of course she did.
“Let’s see how deep that throat still goes,” I growled, the softness beginning to bleed from my voice.
I grabbed the back of her head with both hands now, holding her steady—and then I pushed.
Not cruel. Not sudden. Just firm.
She chok3d a little, her body tensing—then relaxing again, like a memory clicking into place. I gave her a second to adjust, to breathe when I pulled back. Then I slammed forward again.
The sound of wet heat, of lips stretched wide and breath taken. Her nails curled into her palms behind her, body shaking. But she didn’t stop. Didn’t resist. She took it.
I fucked her mouth with measured force, guiding her down, using her like the obedient little bitch she was. Her eyes watered beautifully, her nose brushing my skin with every thrust, her eyeliner smearing across her face.
“You’re such a fucking good toy,” I grunted. “A perfect little hole. Mine.”
She moaned around me—loud, wrecked, a sound that said this is exactly what I need.
I held her there, bottomed out, her nose pressed against me, her throat swallowing convulsively around the base.
And when I pulled back, her face was streaked—tears, spit, makeup, bliss.
I wiped the corner of her mouth with my thumb and smiled.
“There you are,” I whispered. “My beautiful, ruined pet.”
Her face was a mess—flushed, wet with spit and tears, eyes hazy and wide. She looked up at me like I’d taken the last of her and she still wanted more.
I ran my thumb along her jaw, slow and deliberate.
“You’re not done, pet.”
Ann whimpered, almost nodded, but her mouth opened instinctively as I gripped her hair again. She was already leaning into it before I pulled.
I didn’t haul her to her feet—not yet.
Instead, I dragged her over to the wall, leash still in hand, her knees scrambled across the floor. I pressed her back against the cold surface, and she shivered at the contrast. Her hands, still cuffed behind her, couldn’t steady her. She was completely helpless.
I stepped in close, letting my cock brush her lips again, slick from her mouth and spit. She moaned and tilted her head up, desperate, obedient.
“You want it like this, don’t you? Pinned, helpless, throat fucked until you can’t see straight.”
“Yes, Sir,” she whispered, eyes already fluttering.
I didn’t give her more time. I slid one hand into her hair and the other under her chin, tilting her jaw up—and I used her.
I slammed forward hard, burying myself in her throat. She gagged immediately, eyes rolling up as her body tried to fight it—but she didn’t pull away. She took it.
I held her there, her skull pressed against the wall, pinned between it and my hips. She chok3d and drooled, spit pouring from the corners of her mouth, slicking her chin and chest as I thrust again, and again, and again.
The wet, obscene sounds echoed in the room, mixed with her muffled cries and the sharp, rhythmic grunt of my breath.
“You’re fucking made for this,” I growled, one hand gripping her throat now, holding her in place as I fucked her face harder. “This is where you belong. Eyes ruined. Knees raw. Throat full.”
Her body trembled under me, knees buckling—but the wall held her up, and I didn’t let her fall. I used her like a toy, and she glowed with it, every inch of her screaming more.
Finally, I pulled out, letting her gasp raggedly for air, spit trailing from her swollen lips to my cock. She looked up at me like she was dreaming.
“Good girl,” I murmured, brushing her hair back from her face.
Then, without a word, I finally hauled her to her feet by the leash.
Her legs barely held her, but she stumbled upright, chest heaving, breath ragged.
“Over the bed,” I ordered.
She obeyed without a sound, moving with that broken, eager rhythm only true submission brings. She bent over the edge, wrists still bound behind her back, face pressed into the mattress, ass exposed and glistening. I stepped behind her, gripped her hips, and dragged the head of my cock up along her soaked slit.
No teasing this time. No warning.
Just a brutal, claiming thrust.
Ann screamed into the sheets, her whole-body arching, stretched tight around me. I grunted and drove deeper, holding her in place by her hips as I began to fuck her with that same merciless rhythm I’d used in her throat.
“This what you needed?” I growled. “To be ruined? Fucked like the filthy little pet you are?”
She sobbed out a “Yes, Sir,” barely loud enough to hear over the wet slap of skin on skin.
I gripped the leash again, wrapping it around my fist, yanking her back onto me with every thrust. She was drooling onto the sheets now, body jerking with every impact, losing herself in it. Her moans were wild, wordless—screams of helpless pleasure.
“God, listen to you,” I hissed. “You’re gone. Fucked stupid. Just a hole for me to use.”
I reached around and gripped her throat from behind, not tight—just enough for her to feel it. Enough to remind her she was mine to do this to.
Her cunt spasmed around me, her whole body locking up. She came hard, unexpectedly, whimpering and clenching, hips trembling as she tried to stay upright.
I didn’t stop.
Not through her orgasm. Not even after.
I fucked her through it, into the overstimulation, until she was sobbing into the sheets. Every inch of her shaking.
And only when I was close—when I couldn’t take another second of the sight of her, wrecked, weeping, and perfect—did I finish inside her, hard and deep, holding her against me as my hips bucked and stilled.
For a long moment, we just breathed.
Then I pulled out, slow, careful, letting her collapse onto the bed.
She didn’t move.
Didn’t speak.
Just lay there—quivering, used, glowing.
I stayed there a moment longer, watching her. The rise and fall of her back, the slight twitch in her thighs, the red blooming across her ass and neck. Her wrists still cuffed. Her collar still tight around her throat—of course it was. She’d never taken it off when she didn’t have to.
“Shhh,” I murmured, as I gently uncuffed her wrists. “It’s okay, pet. You’re safe. I’ve got you.”
She didn’t respond with words. Just a soft, shuddering breath as her arms fell limp beside her.
I eased her onto her side, then slowly lay down behind her, guiding her into me. She let me move her like she was weightless—like it didn’t matter where she ended up, as long as it was with me. She curled into my chest instinctively, face pressed just beneath my collarbone, lips barely brushing my skin.
I wrapped my arms around her, one hand at her back, the other sliding up into her hair. I stroked it gently, letting my fingers glide through the tangled strands, over the nape of her neck, along the collar she never wanted to be without.
Her breathing began to slow. Not steady yet—but slowing. Her body soft now, pliant, no tension left in it.
“Good girl,” I whispered, barely audible. “You were perfect for me. Took everything.”
She gave the faintest nod against my chest. Just enough to let me know she heard.
“I’m so proud of you.”
I kissed her temple, slow and deliberate.
“I know how deep you went for me tonight. I know what it costs you to fall apart like that. And I’ll always be here when you need to.”
Another breath. Slower still.
I kept stroking her hair, tracing small circles against her scalp, feeling her melt further with every pass. Her hand came up, resting lightly on my chest, her fingers twitching, like she needed the contact—needed to know I was still there.
“I’m not going anywhere, little bitch,” I murmured. “You’re mine. Always.”
There was no reply. Just the softest sigh. A weight settling. The kind of quiet you only find in the arms of someone who’s just wrecked you—and still stayed to hold the pieces.
We lay there in silence, the world narrowing down to the shared heat between our bodies, the steady beat of my heart beneath her cheek, and the slow glide of my fingers through her hair.
I brushed my fingers over the collar, still snug at her throat. She leaned into it—into me.
|
