Sorodna Dusa

"Uh! Uh! Uh! Uh! Ohgod! Ohgod! So huge! So hard! So deep in me! Oh, my Al, my master, my moja draga, my love! Use me like this forever! Make me cum on your beautiful cock, my sir! Oh please -- please -- please -- more -- more -- harder -- deeper -- fuck my cunt -- make me cum --"

"Fuck me back, Katryn! You feel so hot on my cock! Fuck me like you mean it, slut! Fuck me good or I'll spank your ass! Fuck me back!"

"Ohhhhh," she moaned as her ass began to thrust back against my groin, instantly finding the right rhythm. "Oh yes! Oh yes! Uh! Uh! Uh! Fuck me! Fuck my cunt! Fuck your slut! Fuck me hard!" she demanded.

My response was to pick up the knotted silk flogger and smack her tight ass with it, a good sharp lick. There was an explosion of color across my inner eye, like fluorescent ink dropped into still water that turned into billowing clouds emanating from the point of impact.

"That sounded like an order, sub! Your job is to provide us pleasure! You think about that first and last before you think about anything else, slut! Move that ass of yours while I punish your insolence!"

The silk snapped onto her ass, the cords leaving little red stripes and the knots raised darker ones. She squealed and shoved herself harder against me, taking my cock all the way onto her cunt before pulling forward to receive another stroke of the lash and ram herself back onto my prick again. Her butt cheeks shimmied as she worked her ass to pleasure me while the iron-hard rod in her pussy forced her up the mountain toward another orgasm. Still moaning audibly and silently, my lover used all of the skills in her magnificent body to bring us both to climax. With every lash she received, another color-cloud burst across our shared vision. Her cries grew more heartfelt.

"Uh! Uh! Uh! Uh! Oh yes! Oh yes! So good! So hot! Hot in my cunt! So hot! Fucking me! I am yours! Yours! Yours! Fucking cunt! Fuck! Fuck! Use me! I want it! I want it! Make me, master! Make me! Please, sir! Please! Please! O-H-H-H -- Y-E-E-E-S-SSS!"

I felt her convulse spastically under me and around my cock as she came for us. The feeling was indescribable. Its force left her quivering beneath me as she wallowed in the ecstasy. I released her hips, reached down and grasped her by the wrists, pulling her body up and arching her back as I continued to thrust the raging erection between my legs into her willing body.

"Fuck me, Katryn! Fuck your love back! Use your pussy to please me! Make me cum, girl! I love using you as your Dominant! I love you! Consecrate our bond by cumming for me, you marvelous slut, my submissive, my woman, my soul mate! Fuck your master! Make me cum in your twat, sub! Use your body to pleasure us! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!"

Held upright as she was, she could not thrust back against me easily. Instead, she whipped her ass in a figure-8, somehow making her pussy muscles rhythmically squeeze the cock ravishing her cunt like a farmer stripping a cow's teat. It was as though she was simultaneously masturbating and fucking the proud male flesh in her twat, and it drove me over the edge.

"AAAHHHH! FUUUCCCKK!"

It was like being at the center of an exploding bomb as our orgasm tore through the two of us. I could feel the texture of the colors that blew our minds as I shot my load into Katryn, each spurt of my spunk punctuating the initial blast with another chrysanthemum starburst. Our bodies suddenly slickened with sweat as the sensations overwhelmed us and sent us tumbling down, down, down into the golden afterglow the like of which made any climax either of us had ever had pale into insignificance by contrast. Our minds united by the experience, we collapsed together onto the bed in the little-death that only happens with the very best sex and not every time even then.

Some indeterminate time later -- it could have been seconds or it could have been centuries -- we came back to ourselves. We were once again two discrete beings. Two temporarily united spirits now separate, each poorer for the loss of the other.

"Hello, my darling," I said, gathering Katryn in and cradling her head on my shoulder, my hands lightly stroking her back and flanks. Her glorious green eyes looked into mine, soft and tender with a look I'd only seen on the faces of teenage girls in proximity to lusted-after rock stars in photographs, adoring me.

"Oh, my love," she whispered, like me not wanting to sully the moment with words which might spoil what we were feeling. "I see you, and feel you, and know you as I've known no other man."

"As I know you, my precious love, my very own," I responded. I knew I sounded inane, yet not. Only the two of us could know the depth of feelings and emotions within our bond as we spoke, talk being a woefully inadequate, single-sense medium that could not compare with having been joined mind-to-mind and heart to heart in a fusion words could not begin to define. She smiled, understanding what I could not say aloud; the symbology to explain it does not exist in any spoken or written language. Her fingers drew the tension remaining in me out of my body as mine did to hers. Neither of us could tell which of us fell into deep, secure sleep first.

I awoke at my usual time in the morning, stiff with not having moved during the night lest I disturb the loving woman sharing my bed. Easing out from under her, I slipped into exercise togs and repaired to the back porch where my rod-resistance home gym awaited my daily exercise session. I was nearly done when Katryn found me, dressed in one of my long-sleeved shirts and her stiletto heels. I had never seen a sexier woman the morning after the night before. We did not need to talk; an embrace, a gentle kiss and walking into the kitchen with interlaced fingers spoke volumes for us.

After a day begun with oatmeal made with steel-cut oats sautéed in butter and then boiled with regular rolled oats, we set to work putting up drywall in the dining room. One might have expected me to bring my sub upstairs or downstairs into a dungeon to be spanked and used as a sex toy, but there is more to being a Dominant than simply controlling your sub's sexuality and satisfaction. Katryn knew this as well as I, and was pleased simply to be with me, doing a task which needed doing. I did not neglect her need for physical contact, stroking her arms and legs and squeezing her breasts as we passed or while she held up the sheetrock while I screwed it into the studs; but I did not need to satisfy our needs with a Scene. We were already more intimate than any BDSM scene could make explicit.

As evening came on, I decided we had earned an evening out.

"Katryn my pet, let us clean up, put on our glad-rags and go out tonight. That black dress, properly accessorized, will do for what I have in mind. Would you like that?"

"Whatever you like, sir, we will do, as I agreed."

I required Katryn to don the corset she had brought with her. After she had it on, I laced it much tighter than she'd had it. It narrowed her waist noticeably and made her firm B-cups look larger than they were. She put the silver jewelry she'd worn the night before back on after she had done her make-up. I was in a tailored tuxedo complete to hand-tied bow tie; we complemented each other nicely. The car I brought out was not my pedestrian Taurus wagon but her BMW; so much classier. We set off in style to the place I had selected for our night out.

The Majestic Ballroom is a building with a history. Built in what today would be called exurbia within driving distance of Washington, several smaller cities and big towns just before the Crash of 1929, its pseudo-Moorish lines and motifs had adapted to and survived the Swing Era, the Big Band Era (it had been a favored venue of both Dorsey brothers and Glenn Miller), rock 'n roll, (Buddy Holly, Elvis and Frankie Valli had all made the Majestic a regular stop on their tours), the rise of Rock and big Country acts (it is a favorite of both Dolly Parton and Ted Nugent), and even the Disco Era. Rumor has it the world's largest disco ball is stashed somewhere in the basement of the place.

Musicians love the acoustics of the ballroom. Their management loves the fact that when the tables and chairs are removed, between the second floor balcony that looks down on the dance floor, the raised, railed first floor tier that like the second floor runs along three walls and gives a good view of the stage and the dance floor itself, you can pack 4,000 screaming fans or more into the place. It's a very intimate venue for its size.

However, the operant word in the Majestic's name is 'ballroom.' The parquet dance floor is huge, big enough that back in the day regiments training for World War II service had thrown regimental balls there. It remains a popular venue for upper class weddings, proms, college formals, political gala functions and even drill team competitions from the military academy-type secondary schools which dot the countryside in this part of the South. Even with all these competing functions there are many nights when dinner and dance are the order of the day, and this was one of them.

With Katryn's fashion-model looks, we turned more than a few heads as we walked into the main room. The maitre d' led us to the table I had reserved on the first floor tier overlooking the dance floor and I seated her. Menus and a wine list materialized at once. Katryn automatically deferred to me in the matter of what to eat and drink, but I could tell from her sparkling eyes that she approved of my choices.

As we ate, we watched the dancers on the floor. Most of the couples fell into two categories. There were the well off, silver-haired retirees who had been dancing all their lives; pairs who had danced together for so long, you could blindfold them and still have them move gracefully across the floor without hitting anyone. Then there were the nouveaux riches who had figured out that tons of loot alone do not guarantee a welcome into the upper class. It takes excellent manners and a counterfeit of breeding as well as lots of green to gain entry into the rarefied realm of the monied elite. A few months of lessons can't imbue the ease and muscle memory required to dance without thinking about it as those who have always had money do. It was easy to tell who was which.

After we had eaten, I led Katryn onto the dance floor. She had learned to dance during her modeling days; I'd learned as a junior officer. We had a good idea of our skill levels thanks to our psychic connection. What was more important, we could sense what we each were about to do before we did it. The result was our graceful movement across the parquet. Though it was the first time we'd danced, we moved as confidently as partners of years' standing. She never took her eyes from my face as I piloted us around the dance floor, and I stood prouder because of it. We might not have been ready for Blackpool, but we were head and shoulders above most of the other couples out there.

We had been chatting as we waltzed and foxtrotted to the music from the house band. Now they segued into a tango. There is no need for a couple to talk if they know the language of tango.

Our opening was a little awkward. During her modeling days in Europe, Katryn had learned International Style tango. I'd learned Argentine tango when I'd had been assigned to train Special Forces units during the Ejercito Argentino's reorganization in the late 1980s following the Army's poor performance in the Falkland Islands War and the restoration of civil government to Argentina. International is the open form of tango in which the partners bow their upper bodies outward, away from each other. I had been taught the closed form in which the partners are corps a corps, much more intimate. Without being told, she adopted my style. We moved sensuously across the floor, the less skilled dancers instinctively clearing the way for us to step out flamboyantly.

It is impossible to conceal your intentions towards your partner when you tango. A common canard claims the dance originated in the bordellos of Buenos Aires as a way for the girls to size up the johns before taking them upstairs for a ride on the magic mountain. I had no doubt Katryn knew that I wanted to drag her off the dance floor, spread her on a table and take her. I could tell she was willing for me to have her right here if that was what I wanted. By the time the dance was over, her chest was flushed and my erection was downright painful. We went back to our table, where dessert and a bottle of champagne waited for us.

After we finished dessert, I reached into my pocket and set a small black velvet box on the table.

"I have been thinking about what your grandmother told you about soul mates, Katryn. I believe she is right. I just never expected to find mine. Now that I have, with your consent I will never let you go." I pushed the box toward her.

She opened it slowly. A two-carat diamond in an antique cut winked up at her in the subdued lighting. While serving in the Balkans, I had discovered a cache of jewels in a cave that had been hidden following who knew which revolt, revolution or uprising; this diamond had been part of it. I took her hand and reached out to her, mind to mind, through the fizzing of the physical contact.

"Do you consent to become my wife as well as my submissive, Katryn Pokoran?"

She did not answer in words. She took the diamond from its box and slid it onto her ring finger. She then held my hand to her breast, heedless of the looks from couples at the tables around us, locking her eyes to mine as she raised my hand to her mouth and kissed the palm. I could hear her inside my head.

"Oh yes, my master! I will be your wife and your devoted slave, my sorodna dusa, for as long as we live. I will love you and make you happy, in bed and out of it, as you make me happy and complete. I am your woman, your soul mate, your submissive and your love. While we live, I will not let you go from me. I do not ask that you confine yourself to me. A woman is foolish if she does not realize men have a biological compulsion to bed as many women as they can. But as long as you come home to me, if you ever feel the need to fuck another woman I will not complain."

"Why would I need to take another woman when I have you in my bed?" I asked through out mental bond. "Sex is fun; but sex without the bond we share as soul mates cannot compare with what we have, Katryn. Look in your memories and tell me if I am wrong."

"You are not wrong," she whispered, speaking aloud. "I am your woman, your loving slave, now and always. You are my man and my master. Becoming my husband in the eyes of the law will not change that. It just makes it clear that I am yours. But we know that already."

As she spoke, she sent me a vivid picture of herself lying on her back in her corset and heels, exquisite legs spread wide; her swollen twat glistening wetly up at me. Her eyes were flame and her body was wanton and wanting to be taken by her Dominant.

"Please, master. Take me to your bed and allow me to consecrate our bond by filling my aching cunt with your huge, hard cock. Discipline me and then mount me so I can pleasure you. I want you deep inside me as I love you and obey you." Without another word I motioned for the check.

We raced each other to the bedroom when we got back to the house. I stripped her of her dress but left her in corset and heels. Obedient to her wishes, I cuffed her hands to a pair of sturdy eyebolts screwed into the joists overhead by the window where they might be taken for something from which to hang plants. From her case of toys I selected the nipple chain. Stepping in front of her, I sucked her nips, feeling them harden against my tongue as her hot blood rushed to fill them. Her moans were music to my ears, as was her yelp when without warning I applied the clamps and twisted them tight. I watched those lustful nipples swell as the clamps held back the blood from returning, forcing them to grow longer and thicker. Smiling, I picked up the knotted silk flogger and stepped up to her.

"Aieee!" she screamed as the cords smacked into her buttocks. Lines marking their impact instantly appeared on the pale skin of her luscious ass. "Please, master!"

I couldn't tell if she was pleading for me to stop or begging for more; either way, it didn't matter. She was my slave girl to be used as I wished. WHACK! The next stroke came in backhanded, crossing the lines of the first at a ninety-degree angle on her nether cheek. I continued to flog her, firmly but not viciously as she squirmed in her cuffs, helpless to stop me. Her cries were a goad, urging me on.

"Please, master! Whip me! Punish me! Give me the discipline I need! I am your cunt, your slave, your slut! I am your to use as you wish! Use me! I love it! Use me! Use me! OHHHH, Y-E-S-S-S!!" She writhed in the throes of orgasm.

Under the stimulation of my lashing, sex-syrup leaking from her nether lips glistened on her mons. As she came, in the glass of the window I saw her pussy winking at me as it involuntarily clasped, seeking a cock that wasn't there to be milked by her eager box. I sent my next stroke in from the front to gently lash her clitoris.

"A-A-A-H-H-H-H!!"

Katryn's legs shook and she climaxed again, her juices spilling out of her mound to run down her thighs. A second stroke to her pubes brought another cry and another climax as she shuddered in her chains. As she lost herself in the pleasure, I unclipped the nipple clamps and tossed the chain aside. She groaned as her no longer compressed nerves announced the fact to her brain with bursts of burning pain. I took careful aim.

"AIEEEEEHHHHH! A-A-A-H-H-H-H!! A-A-A-H-H-H-H!!"

Her legs buckled and she hung by her wrists as the bolt of pleasure-pain-ecstasy burned through her from the impact of the silk flogger on her swollen nipples, the small knots feeling like a load of birdshot on the tortured, sensitive labile tissue. I stepped in and kissed her hard, one hand wrapped into her red hair helping me control the kiss as I fingered her pussy with the other. She pressed into my hand and mouth, eager for my touch as she came yet again, her climax and her need pouring into me through our physical contact like a coronal flare of the sun in shades of gold delight and red lust. Breaking the kiss, I opened the handcuffs and swept her up into my arms, laying her on her back on the bed. I looked at her. Unbidden, she spread her legs wide in invitation, as she had in the vision she had sent me at the ballroom.

"Fuck me, master. Fuck me, Al. Fuck your sorodna dusa! Fill my empty cunt with your huge, hard cock! Fuck me like the slut I am! Take me, please!"

She wriggled under me as I mounted her, a deep moan of satisfaction announcing her pleasure as I filled her wanton pussy with my thick pole, stirring her wet twat as I drove in and out of her. She begged me to screw her, to use her hard, to make her cum, before the feelings of our bodies overwhelmed us both and we were lost in the color, scent and sensation of mutual gratification as we fucked each other. I was in her and she was in me and the boundaries between us were so blurred we could not tell where one of us ended and the other began. I felt the groundswell of her orgasm coming on like a wave rolling into a beach, rising, rising, rushing until it tumbled over itself and broke like a comber on the Banzai Pipeline in Hawaii, sweeping everything before it.

I rode that wave, my cock cutting across it like a surfboard, taking pleasure from my defiance of her instinctual attempts to make me cum in her. Another wave followed the first and I shifted to it, penis-dancing on the crest, laughing at it as I controlled its direction and intensity, barely aware of my hands twisting and pulling her long, hard nipples or her tongue in my mouth or of her hands pulling me to her, as if she could completely envelope me with her cunt. More waves followed and I rode them all, glorying in my control of her orgasmic dynamic until one final breaker rose behind me and took me unawares.