Our Wait for the 7

It was late.  Few were out and about at all, and the platform was deserted.  We had a little wait and walked to the end of the platform to catch the front car.  Or at least that's the reason M gave me.  We were content and happy, tired from the long fun day.  After checking out the view, we snuggled, kissed, and touch as we usually do at every opportunity.  Lovers that can't quite keep from touching...tasting.  But M is a devious man and likes to push.  Soon our bit of PDA took on more of the intensity we shared behind closed doors.  He held my head, deepening our kiss and commanding I give more.  Our tongues dueled, and I was quickly wishing we were already tucked away as desire licked up my spine.

When his hands cupped my full aching breasts, I sighed in blessed relief despite our very public location.  My nipples immediately responded through the thin material and pebbled in his palm as he massaged their weight.  My big slutty tits were braless beneath my strappy, summer top.  I'd shed its vice grip an hour before as we were walking to the restaurant, careless if the late night wait staff notice their swing or hard tips.  Now with M's demanding touch, they begged to be used.  He gave them and me, much more than expected on that well lit train platform.

Whether it was my willing response that set him off or just his sadistic need to toy with his slut, the devilish look in his eyes was my only warning.  Without hesitation or even a glance around us, M tugged up my shirt to settle above my breasts and exposed my 36DD mounds for his torment.  He cupped...molded...sucked.  Not gently.  Not easily.  But with his cruel intensity that I so fucking crave.  Even as a tiny part of me was conscious of the trouble we might cause, my body gave in fully, arching into his touch.  I've long ago accepted that I am His property to consume whenever, wherever, and however he desires.

I gasped.  I whimpered.  The pleasure flooding me with heady need.  When he stepped back and slapped His slut's heavy tits,  my cunt clenched in response.  One small part of me was still firmly in reality though, and I purposefully held myself at ease in case anyone chanced upon us.  Again I felt that sweet sting.  My head fell back in bliss.  Yet, I struggled internally with the conflicting bombardment of needs.  The thread of sanity kept trying to interrupt with reason, but His pet simply wanted more of His use.  And His Whore...that crazy bitch was beginning to dance in glee and was sincerely hoping M would shove down my pants and four finger fuck me in front of God and everyone.  Chaos crashed in my head, yet my body held steady greedy for another harsh slap.  In the end, I'm M's to command.

His sudden grip on my arm woke me from my inner chaos and sensuous haze, but instead of stopping, M quickly turned me around to bend me over the rough cement barrier guarding the edge.  When he shoved his hand against my dampening cunt, my inner whore jumped for joy silencing any more whispers of reason.  I don't remember what he said.  I was lost.  "...whore..."  "...slut..."  God yes...I was all of those things for Him.

He slapped my ass hard.  I tried to swallow my cry.  "Cum, bitch."  Another smack shook my fat cheek.  "Cum in your pants like a dirty slut."  Another.  "I said CUM!" he growled impatiently.  The building pressure burst, and I came in a gush.  A warm river drenched my crotch and ran down my leg, soaking my capris.

"I did." I whimpered.  M's grabbed my crotch and laughed tauntingly at me as he felt and saw the humiliating evidence of my unrestrained passion.  So pleased, he turned me back to him and held me, reassuring his very embarrassed pet that I was "such a good whore."  Torn between my imminent shame and my satisfaction of pleasing M,  I looked over his shoulder across the tracks to the other platform and realized we'd had an audience of one who had to have seen some bit of my public use.  However, that barely registered as nothing could be done to undo it.  I knew the worst was yet to come.

The tracks began to rumble.  My dread increased.  I had to get through three stops in my embarrassing condition.  M didn't give me the easy way out either the sadistic bastard.  He stood with his back to the door, forcing me to face him and show my backside to any that wanted to glance my way.  I rested my head against his chest and tried not to imagine what a dirty slut I must have looked like.  I never heard a snicker.  I never heard a comment.  All I know is that I was never more relieved to be walking again in the dark, quiet streets without a potential audience.

M definitely added another splash of dark color onto my blank canvas that night.  I truly doubt that will be my only experience with his twisted sense of public fun.  Next time...oh yes...next time I'm sure it will be much, much worse.  ~sigh~

But then why does some part of me look so forward to it all?  ;-)
~DominaKat

My Place

If you want to know what happened previously...

I had pleased him well.

I was His.

Simply His.

I was trying to recover from the incredible use he'd just demanded of me.  The haze would not lift.  I was still at the mercy of the powerful connection between us.  There I lay in the messiness of us, barely still on the bed.  He had one foot on the floor that he had used to add to the impact of his strokes.  Spit and more hung from my swollen red lips and dripped down my cheeks and chin. With my hooded gaze, I must have looked like a well used slut.  M had stripped me entirely of grace and pride and brought me to my emotional and mental fucking knees.  As I rested between his thighs looking up, my mouth used like never before, the need to give my absolute submission overwhelmed me.  It clawed at me.  My breath hitched.  Emotions choked me.  With a whimper, I quit resisting and let my slave heart guide my actions.

Still shaking from the aftermath of our passion, I silently slid from the edge of the bed.  When my knees touched the floor, I knew I was on the right path.  But it wasn't enough.

I folded myself at his feet and pressed my naked breasts to the rough, unyielding carpet.

More.  I needed to give more.

My palms slid forward, and I stretched my arms in supplication.

Further...my slave heart demanded.

I gently dropped my cheek to his foot and nuzzled against him, curling my arms around his ankle.

Oh yes...close.

Deeper...the slave inside me whispered.  I answered that call the only way I could.  I softly kissed the heat of his skin and closed my eyes, relinquishing every scrap of my pride to Him.

Long quiet minutes passed.  The warm, soft comfort of submission flooded through me.  No words were needed.  None existed to capture the moment.  I lived only for His touch.  Only for His will.  My breathing slowed.  I settled into my place at my Owner's feet.  I waited.  My patience...endless.  Hoping he would accept what I gave so willingly.  Under the morning light, I silently surrendered everything of me to the strong, beautiful Man who Owned my body, my mind, and my heart.   As he lovingly stroked his hand over me, I lost myself to Him and found sweet, blessed peace.
~DominaKat

His Willing Victim

I choked and gagged on his angry, demanding dick.  He pushed and held me down, until his head forced its way down my throat.  I was left gasping for air and struggling as he took his right.  He raped my mouth without apology or hesitation.  Used it like I was a cheap fucking whore.  I was.  I was His cheap, dirty, filthy whore to use however he desired.  And he left me no doubt who held control.

My throat tightened around him.  With slack lips, I open my mouth even wider.  My jaw ached.  Drool pour from my mouth pooling in his lap as I tried to catch a sliver of air.  It was a mess.  My face was slick with saliva.  Thick strands of spit fell from my lips and soaked his pubic hair.  My mouth was His fuckhole.  Wet lips and a throat meant to serve my sadistic, cruel Master.

With his hand on my head, he forced my face to his crotch and made me take every bit of Him.  "Suck, you nasty whore."  He ground himself into me, fucking my face harshly - refusing to show His slut an ounce of mercy.  I whimpered, cried, suffered as he rammed still further down down into my throat, even as my empty pussy wept in response and need.  I could no longer think.  I simply tried to survive the abuse he gave his greedy whore.  Again and again the head of his dick tore down my throat.  I couldn't breath.  I couldn't escape.  I was my Beast's willing victim.

Helpless, my body fought back in a violent rush of thick mucus as my empty stomach convulsed and puke rained over his meat.  An orgasm ripped through my cunt as I gushed achingly between my empty thighs.  I was rewarded with freedom from his tight grip.  Instinctively I pulled back enough to breathe.  With his cock resting on my tongue, I held myself there and gasped for air as my body shook.  I licked him still wanting to please.  Spit and more hung from my swollen red lips and dripped down my cheeks and chin.  With my hooded gaze, I must have looked like a well used slut.

He laughed darkly and stated with absolute certainty, "I own that hole now."  He was right.  He had brutally claimed my mouth.  It belonged entirely to Him.  M had stripped me entirely of grace and pride and brought me to my fucking knees.  I had pleased him well, as I was meant to do.
~DominaKat

Breaking in His Whore - Part I

He held me naked to the wall by my throat.  His tight grip leaving me dizzy and wet.  I wasn't with a boy.  A fully dressed, exquisitely patient man held me firmly and absolutely in my place.  "Spread your legs, whore."  I never questioned, only obeyed.

His violent kiss was my reward.  Hot and hungry.  No hesitation.  No tease.  Just pure possession. His hands grabbed my full aching breasts.  Whorish tits that begged for abuse.  His fingers dug into my mounds as he claimed his due.  Fire ripped through my gut at his assault, and the cunt he owned wept.  A harsh slap across my face stunned me.  Another stung my heaving chest before he fiercely worried a hard beaded nipple and dug his hand in my hair, slamming my head against the wall.  "Such a fucking whore.  Begging for use.  You were meant to be abused like a dirty slut."

His voice...his cruel, twisted words seduced my mind like nothing else with their truth.  I'd always known that deep down at my core I was destine to be a man's whore.  My Master's whore.  I simply had to find him.  I was in His hands now.  "You're a delicious piece of fuckmeat."  I panted for him like a dog.  The sensation on my nipple tightened further and further until I cried out from the pain.  An orgasm building.  "Who owns you, slut?" he demanded.  The haze of pain slowed my reaction, and a second slap across my face fell at my delay.

"You." I gasped.

"Who?"  Slap.  I whimpered.  He released my hair as his hand snaked once again to my throat, cutting off my ability to breath.  A sadistic whisper in my ear, "Answer it right or I'll fucking beat you."  Slap.  A wet trail ran down my thighs.  "Who's filthy little fucktoy are you?"  Gasping for air, he watched my helpless struggle before his grip eased just slightly.

I rushed to reply well, "Yours, Sir.  I'm your obedient fucktoy to use and abuse.  Please, Sir...please..."

"Please what, cunt?"  Both his hands encircled my tits bringing their heavy weight up to meet his lips.  I arched into his touch.  I moaned as his teeth took turns sinking into my fat nipples.

"Please, Sir," I begged.  "Use me for your pleasure.  Take what you want from me."

A dark chuckle.  "I plan to.  First let me see what a nasty slut you are."  With no warning he took possession of his sloppy wet cunt.  There was no way to hide my slutty response to his sadistic touch.  "Look how fucking nasty you are for me."  Three fingers plowing ruthlessly through my hot slick folds.  I was so close.  I'd never felt such a harsh possession.  I was owned.  I was property.  I was His.  "Dirty slut.  You've been waiting all your fucking life to be used by me, haven't you?"

"Oh God...Yes!!!  Please, Sir.  May I cum???"  My knees bent instinctively, and I leaned forward and gripped my thighs.  I was open and grinding myself onto his hand like an animal in heat.  There was no grace, no polite lady, no strong warrior.  Just a rutting whore in search of freedom only he could provide.  Suddenly, my cunt was empty.  I watched through half-lidded, passion-drunk eyes as he leaned over and grabbed a little trash can from the corner.

"Such a greedy wet bitch."  He shoved the can between my feet.  "You'll cum in the garbage like the filthy slut you are, whore."  He pushed me square between my chest, and my back slammed back against the wall.  I slid further down the wall.  My knees bent further as I braced my weight against my thighs.

Without mercy his hand returned to ream my cunt.  My hot hole sucked hungrily at his fingers and tightened around his brutal intrusion.  "Cum, bitch.  Cum in the trash like you are told."  A fourth finger spread his fuckmeat wider.  I bared down hard on his cruel use.  The overwhelming rush of animalistic desire started from a deep dark place within me that I'd never known.  My head dropped helplessly to M's chest.  He held me to him as he continued to drive me over the edge.  I grunted and growl as pleasure ripped through my soul and devoured the last bit of my sanity.  My orgasm gushed like a waterfall between my legs and over M's hand.  Spraying my thighs, my hot cum fell into the garbage like dirty meat droppings.  He continued to milk me.  Wave after wave racked my body and stripped my mind.

I was nothing but his whore.

And His abuse had only just begun.
~DominaKat

His Sweet Pet

~ His obedient, little pet waiting to be lead. ~

Yes...
I am owned.
His.
M's sweet, loyal pet.

Yes...
I crave the way He strokes me.
Long, slow, patient affection.
His touch calms my soul as nothing ever has.

Yes...
I will purr for the simplest of touches.
I will sweetly take food from my Owner's hand.
I will lay at His feet in peaceful bliss.

Yes...
I need the taste of Him on my tongue.
I search for Him in my sleep.
I seek His praise.

Yes...
I will crawl for Him.
I will obey His commands.
I surrender myself to Him.

Yes...
I bask in the pleasure He demands.
Pant as He takes me like no other.
Whimper as He claims what is only His.

Yes...
I am a bitch in heat for Him.
I will kiss the leash that guides me.
I will follow eagerly where He leads.

Yes...
I am finally safe and cherished.

Yes...
I am loved for me.

Yes...
He is the Master I've waited to claim me.

Yes...
I've found where I belong.
~DominaKat

Storm's Shelter

Come to me, please.
My arms are open.
I am yours.

Rest against my softness.
Shut out the cruel world.
Find peace in us.

Let me soothe your weary soul.
Let me be your shelter in a storm.

Take from me, please.
Release your pain.
I am yours.

Feed your hungry darkness.
Drown in the depth of my surrender.
Free the caged beast raging below the surface.

Let me be the warrior at your back.
Let me be your shelter for this storm.

Give to me, please.
All that haunts you.
I am yours.

Free yourself from the shadows.
Fight against those preying demons.
See the light that is us.

Let me be strong with you.
Let me be your shelter from your storm.
~DominaKat

Emotional Submission

It's been rough lately.  Stress.  Sadness.  Worry.  Frustration.  Pain.  Sorrow.  Fear.  You name it. It seems to have found its way into our lives.  It all just continued to snowball last week until finally I gave in one day and told M something I've never said before.

"I think I need my Daddy today."

I've never confessed to that kind of deep need.  I've never indulged in those soft, weak emotions.  I either wasn't allowed to be weak or the one around me didn't deserve that depth of trust or have the strength of character to embrace the emotional needs of my lil girl.  So, my warrior always carried the weight and braved the storms.

I wasn't comfortable admitting where I was emotionally.  Oh, I trust M completely.  I was just...ashamed of the fact that I was a bit of an internal mess and that I didn't want to be so fucking strong right then nor did I want to crawl back into my cave alone.  However, I try my damnedest to be honest with myself and with M about my submission, so I swallowed my warrior's pride and reached out.  He didn't let me down.

M's immediate reply was simply, "Of course, Babygirl."

Slowly over the course of the day, I let myself go.  Daddy encouraged me every step of the way until I was vulnerable, exposed, and tucked content and protected into his arms.  He didn't carelessly pat me on the head or get frustrated with my messy emotions.  He cherished and nurtured me.  He babied me.  I felt precious and so utterly emotionally safe it broke my heart.  In the end I found myself freer for having laid bare my helplessness.  I found myself stronger for having crawled in my Daddy's lap and drawn from his calm, loving strength.

Amid all of life's practical hurdles and demands lately, I've tried to explain since how much Daddy's presence that day meant to me.  However, the bigger the step, the longer it takes for me to process.  This kind of emotional submission was a huge step for me.  It's been so damn long since a man has seen me helpless and selflessly responded with utter tenderness, sincerity, and compassion.  In fact, it's been about 22 fucking years.    (Yes, I know...ridiculous.)  I don't always understand how M has gotten past my guards, my walls, my fire-breathing dragon and into the fortress I've built around myself.  I just know I'm so damn grateful that he did.

Thank you, Daddy.  ~kiss~
~Babygirl

The Edge of Madness

I glimpsed the edge of madness.
It whispered to me.
For a moment.

I saw myself.
As I was always meant to be.

Frantic.
Without end.

I closed my eyes.
I tried not to linger.
I turned back and whimpered.

The dark veil opened.
And it seduced me.

Taunted.
Teased.

My dark masochistic desires on display.
The wicked hedonistic pleasure nearly within reach.
His twisted bite of sadistic ecstasy my destiny.

Not yet time.
Never can I cross that line alone.

I would be helpless in its grasp.
Yet I know I am meant to be its willing victim.

To dance with my beast in His lair.
To drip in His cruel sweet hunger.
To indulge as I've always craved.

The edge of madness.
The edge of freedom.

I shall be everything and nothing.
He will be my beginning and end.

Soon.
Every day a step closer.
To living all of my sinful dreams.
~DominaKat

His Canvas

As M and I began our journey together, he commented often that I was an untouched blank canvas.  While I had a rudimentary intellectual understanding of the cravings I yearned to indulge, I had next to no experience in even the most basic practices.  I was simply waiting for the right artist to paint me in his colors.  M chose my canvas.  He claimed it as his own.  Then he meticulously prepped me to accept what would be my destiny.

His colors now forever stain me.

His confident and brutal first strokes a harsh contrast to the stark sea of nothing that had always existed.  As his hand wrapped around my throat, as he pushed me down and held a fighting, hungry Kat under his control, as he claimed his whore that so willingly sought his beast, he quickly laid down the rich lines of color that would begin his work.  Every word he whispered, every controlling touch, every harsh pinch, every slap of his bare hand, every lash of his belt, every fall of his flogger, every sting of his crop, every stroke of his hard dick splashed deep, dark color onto his canvas.  My starving canvas soaked in every drop.

With each shade I bloomed.  I found myself opening myself up wider, diving deeper into the dark pool that had forever been still within me.  I fought. I ran. I begged. I arched greedily into his commanding touch.  I bared myself and spread my legs unashamedly as his filthy whore, so he could use his bitch as he wanted to satisfy his sadistic desires.  He claimed his property brutally and without hesitation or apology, and I came for him endlessly in a gushing flood of dark passion.  I bruised.  I hurt.  I trembled.  I cried.  I even bled for him.  I am his from head to toe in every damn way.  His filthy whore, his dirty slut, his fucking slave.  His sweet babygirl, his obedient pet, his masochistic bitch.  All that I am is his.

Each second we are together is a memory I cherish.  I draw unbelievable strength from all that we share.  I give myself absolutely to him with a depth of trust I've never given because no one has ever earned.  He accepts all that is in me, and he sees the pieces I have tried so hard to bury.  I found peace, beauty, and freedom under his hand.

I am stained to my core with M's beautiful wicked strokes.  The light and the dark.  The sweet and the cruel. I am his to paint however he may choose.  He's destroyed the blank canvas that was me.  Ruined me.  I am His.
~DominaKat