I Am the Bride
Act I: Tipping Point
Scene 2: A Welcome Defeat
Sometime later…
Darkness.
I am aware of a ringing in my ears.
I am aware of my breathing.
I feel my heart beat.
Through one sense at a time, physical reality returns to me.
At some point, I must have stopped yelling and screaming and coming. But I can’t remember when that was.
A sense of time comes back to me. I can hear her breathing.
My ass is on fire! The pain has a life of its own. The flows though my ass cheeks as if it seeks a worthy home.
I open my eyes. I blink my eyes. Liquid drips in front of one of my eyes. A liquid runs down my face and into my open mouth. It is salty but refreshing.
TO MYSELF: “She must have put every ounce of strength behind those final blows.”
I move my arms and turn my head. The coldness of the desk brings me completely back.
I mardin escort lift my head and chest from the granite surface. Drool is running from my mouth. There is sweat on the desk. It is dripping from my head, neck, and shoulders.
I look around the room.
TO MYSELF: “That’s right I am in the office at her home. I drove here. That must have been hours ago. I wonder if those powerful feelings are what the Sith feel when they-
My breath catches in my throat as something cold and wet slides into my pussy. My back arches downward. My stomach pushes forward.
TO MYSELF: “That’s right I am still bent over her desk. Something is missing. The butt plug. When did she remove it?”
With her finger still in my ass I feel her other hand caressing my right ass cheek. Her finger turns and rotates. She pushes in farther. I gasp. She pushes against my prostate. She is pumping it. She is milking me.
Her other hand van escort leaves my ass. I hear an audible click and a slap. The plastic bottle makes contact with the floor and bounces for a few seconds before touching my left foot. I flinch.
She is stroking and squeezing my weenie. Little droplets ooze from my weenie.
ME: “Mistress.”
I groan. I can’t give anymore.
ME: “Mistress?”
HER: “Lindsay.”
ME: “Mistress.”
HER: “What is it, Bitch?”
ME: “I don’t think I can give more from my weenie.”
HER: “Okay.”
She removes her hand from my weenie.
She stands erect. I feel her finger slide out of my ass. She stands close to my body.
I feel her hips against my flaming ass. Her skin is cool compared to the heat radiating from my butt cheeks. I feel her hardness between my legs.
ME: “Are you going to fuck me?”
My voice sounds squeaky and high pitched. In ankara escort anticipation, I bring my legs together.
HER: “Yes. But not here. Get off of the desk.”
I place my arms under my chest and push myself up to a leaning position.
HER: “You need to crawl into the bedroom so we can take a shower.”
My knees buckle. I fall off of the desk. With one strong arm, she catches me, lifts me up, and lays me on the floor, at her feet.
My little weenie is sated, but my ass hurts so fucking bad.
I see the wet butt plug lying on the wooden floor.
She squats beside me.
She grabs my weenie and re-inserts the gold sounding rod. After tying the end of sounding rod to my weenie, she takes my chin in her hand.
With one hand, she forces me to look at her face. I reach for her. We embrace. She kisses me passionately.
Before I am ready, she pulls herself from my arms. She stands up.
I look to my left and realize there is a 6 foot mirror hanging on the wall. I forgot that it was there, until now. I remember, I used the mirror to see myself when I was using the ribbon.
To see myself, now, defeated—sitting on the floor by her feet—reaffirms my place in her world.
On the ground, at her feet…
…I am her bitch.
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