Fantasies from Him

So, Sir wrote me this. Generally, I am the one doing all the writing because Sir is better at telling me stories. He makes me crazy the way he fucks with me, the way he controls everything. I don't get to drift off and cum.

He talks to me the whole time: What do you want? What are you? Who do you belong to? Ask nicely. Ask properly.

He controls everything: Touch your cunt, your hand flat against it. Fuck your pussy, but leave your clit alone. Slide your toy into your ass.

And then I cum so hard, so loud.

How does it go? This worthless cunt does not deserve Sir. Grin. Enjoy his story:

I sit in the corner of the room, humming as I glance across at you. You're busy turning off the computer, packing your things away and checking you have everything. It's not the end of the day, but everyone's out at the basketball game, something your hoping to skip if you can sneak away in time. Getting up, I walk over to the door, discreetly pocketing the keys to your room as I do, your attention diverted as you search for your phone.

Closing the door, I lock it, pushing it against the frame so it doesn't make a noise, the key gently tapping against the lock, too quiet to be heard against your movement. Looking at the screen you notice you have an e-mail from a parent. You swear and rant a little, pulling your chair up irritably and promising me you'll only be a minute. I smile slightly and say no problem, ambling back to the other side of the room. You're engrossed in what your doing, muttering insults about idiot people and tapping out a reply.

Chewing your lip you're suddenly pulled upwards, disorientated, before feeling my hand in your hair, tugging, forcing you up, the pain shooting across your scalp before you're slammed forward onto the desk. Your cheek is flat against the cold, hard wood--you try to turn, but you're held tight, my fist pushing down on your head, your soft hair wrapped around it as you feel my hand underneath you, unbuttoning your pants quickly, easily, tugging them down around your knees.

You start to protest but the sting cuts it short. The pain rises up your spine and you gasp as the sound echos around the room, your heart stopping as you hope it wasn't heard. I pull your panties down, the print of my hand angry red on your butt.

"Shut up, cunt." is all I say, only slightly angry, certain you'll obey.

I undo my fly, pulling my swelling dick out as I look down at you. Fuck you look good. Stroking my swollen cock, I lean forwards and slam into you. Your pussy's soaked already, the smell of your cunt filling the room as you stifle a cry and swear, your tits pushing against the desk as your body jerks forward.

I fuck you hard and quick, your cunt leaking down the inside of your thighs as you buck, your breath ragged, your swollen clit rubbing against the hard wood as my hips, my lap, my thighs slam against your ass, my name scrolled over it in thick, certain black pen.

You bite down hard on your lip, your eyes scrunched closed before you open them wide, gasping, "Fuck fuck, yesyesyes, pleaseJohnny, fuck" again and again.

Your vision blurs as you feel the waves build, surging from your cunt and escaping your slut throat. You lose track of time, of where you are, just being used, fucked. Then in your ear, clear and definite, "Cum, cunt."

Fuck yes. You can't answer, or nod, you just let go, gasping as you feel me swell and soak your cunt, flooding it with my cum as you buck against the desk, your spine melting as you cum too hard to cry out. Finally it stops. You can feel me dripping out of your pussy, down then inside of your legs. I lean forward, letting your head go, kissing the top of your back as you whisper a nearly silent "Thank you."