All of the months of teasing, pent-up frustration and need, harsh promises and training has culminated to this moment. There is surely an electrical charge in the air; time appears to be standing still. If only…

Need.

Lust darkening his green eyes.

He breaks off the kiss that has rendered me useless. Rough hands with a purpose, my clothing is gone.

A searing look up and down me, I’m gone with just one word from him. “Mine.”

An electrical, internal fizz of arousal is coursing through my body, from cunt to throat and back again as I sink to my knees for him. Head lowered, eyes cast down, silent. Waiting.


He bends over a bit, one hand buried in my hair, grabbing a fistful and the other around my throat. I am yanked, hard, forced to look up at him. Pain. Pressure. Pleasure. Arousal.

“You. Are mine. Aren’t you, slut?”

I whimper. I can barely speak, but I manage, I must.
“Yes, Sir. Yours.”

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New shower pic is up this week at Tits For Troops. And some absolutely delicious anon photos that make me have this incredibly strong desire to wrap my lips around a nipple. Certainly brightened the hell out of my Tuesday (pseudo-Monday) morning.

Related posts:

1. Ssshhh it’s only a dream…
2. Yours, Sir
3. His slut
4. Confessional: Zero to Sub in 3 seconds flat