Perfect Gentleman?

Matthew might best be described as a perfect gentleman. He pulls out chairs for me, opens doors for me, lets me watch Top Model reruns when the football's on. At 6ft3 he's a bit of a gentle giant and lets me away with being the lazy, spoilt little girl I am. Our friends all joke that I have him under my thumb and that I must be a hard mistress.

What they don't know is that there are times when Matt isn't such a gentleman.

I guess it's his payment for being so kind to me for the rest of the time, but when he gets me behind closed doors he likes to take absolute control of me. He uses my body whatever way he wants to, and sometimes abuses it a little too -- that's what the gags and paddles are for. At these times I'm his vulnerable little sex slave, and he's definitely not under my thumb.

Often we'll just be relaxing, maybe watching TV (one of my favourite shows of course) and he'll take his cock out of his trousers, stroking it. This is my cue to get to my knees and open my mouth. Then, I wait. If I don't act fast enough, or if I take his cock too greedily and quickly, he's likely to take a chunk of my hair in his fist and roughly correct me. Or he might leave me kneeling there for twenty minutes. Once he had me get to my knees and had me stay there for what felt like hours, mouth wide open, growing more and more wet, until he finally came over my face and silently zipped himself up again. Frustrated, I cleaned myself off, knowing better than to masturbate without permission.

He knows how much he turns me on and somehow manages to keep me perpetually teetering on that fine line between being painfully horny and a little frightened. The fear I get from him is delicious, because it's genuine. There is no roleplay in our bed, he does exactly what he wants with me, and I am not pretending to be helpless.

The reason I feel such exhilarating fear is that Matthew can sometimes go further than I expect him to. More than once I have been left bruised or in tears under his hand. He likes to have me tied up, using all kinds of intricate knots -- although we both know it's not strictly necessary as his sheer size means he has me under control. He might choose to tie only my wrists, or, more often, he might tie me into some kind of position with limited movement and little balance. Before he fucks me he often spanks me, hard, with his hand or a paddle, perhaps making me count the strokes, or simply smiling as I squirm and redden.

He calls me names our friends wouldn't believe; slut, bitch, cunt. He knows this makes me wet and he teases me for it. Beg for my cock, he'll say, Beg for me to slide it into your pussy. And I do, I always do.

That moment when he pushes into me always makes me gasp. His cock, like his physique, is big and broad. It fills me entirely. Often I'm still bound as he fucks me, and he'll use the ropes like reins holding them so he can pound into me harder and deeper. He might slap me once or twice and he has been known to spit on my face or in my mouth. He knows that it angers me, but he also knows that it turns me on. More importantly, however, it turns him on, and he gets off on seeing my reddening cheeks and spit-covered face.

My petite frame means he can flip me into any position he wants and he'll usually fuck me several ways before straddling my torso and stuffing his cock in my mouth. I know then that he is ready to come. As he fucks my face he'll continue to insult me -- cocksucker, slave, fucktoy -- and I'll continue to get wetter. When he pulls out of my mouth and wanks over my face I close my eyes and wait for the salty taste of his come.

Then, when he's satisfied, his come over my skin or in my hair, he'll smile a little -- not that cruel, teasing smile, but one that says I love you -- and he'll inch his way down my body. His tongue laps at the wetness of my pussy and I know it won't take long for him to make me come. He traces circles around my clit and I arch my back as I feel that familiar rush approaching. The release, when it comes, is always powerful, the combination of the long build-up and his skilled tongue driving my pussy into spasms.

Like I said -- the perfect gentleman. When he moves back up and kisses me on the lips I suddenly don't mind how rough and dominating he has been.

No, I don't mind at all...

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