7 comments/ 56121 views/ 31 favorites Master or Slave By: elsol I have to accept the blame. Tara and I had a good friendship. I knew she did not have normal relationships with men. She liked being the dominant too much for normal to be a part of her sex life. She was five foot eleven inches tall and a bodybuilder so she carried herself at a muscular one hundred ninety pounds. I was five inches shorter and thirty pounds south of her weight. We made an interesting sight when we went out for a friendly dinner or to catch a movie. Tara was heavy into the FemMuscle Dom scene and only dated smaller males she could throw around. Our comparative sizes and her sexual interests led to her mistake. I am the comatose laid back type. I never liked making decisions about unimportant things like restaurants or what movie to watch. There are very few things that I have ever been assertive about so Tara was the dominant partner, at least in her eyes. In her defense, she was except that it was by default and not choice. She took making the decisions in our friendship as my ceding control. She became more assertive, and I accepted it. She, from her view, understandably took this as a sign that I wanted her to 'dominate' our relationship. It was a mistake of interpretation; the truth being that nothing I did with her was important to me. She decided a consummation of our friendship was in order and that I should be the small male Sub to her FemMuscle Dom. She had never challenged me to the type of physical contest she liked with her men because for her it was a sexual experience. I had showed some interest in her activities. Sexuality is something discussed by people in a friendship so I felt obligated. We were having dinner at a little Italian place that I introduced her to. She seemed extremely excited that evening, anxious and expectant. I could feel the tension but ignored it figuring that she wanted to talk about her newest conquest. "David?" Tara said quietly. I looked up from the vodka linguini I was enjoying. "I'd like to ask you something?" I nodded. "Would you like to come over to my place tonight and mix it up?" she asked. 'Mixing it up' is what I had nicknamed the fights that she and her men got into. From what she had told me, it was a combination wrestling and fighting where she got to trounce the guy for about 20 minutes, then fucked him through the common levels of consciousness. I put my fork down slowly. The situation had to be handled delicately. It is not every day that a friend asks to fuck you. I had not considered it a real possibility. Tara was a beautiful woman. She had gorgeous shoulder length black hair with a hint of curl, olive skin, and deceptively soft brown eyes that finished off the picture perfect Italian woman. She was a big girl, but incredibly proportional. I was not a breast man, but she had high and tight cups between a C and D. I admired her thighs. There is nothing more attractive than firm, thick thighs, except maybe blonde pubic hair. Obviously, it was not that I did not find Tara attractive. She wanted something I had been taught painfully never to give someone else; a situation I knew could only end ugly. I tried to avoid the situation, but it got ugly. "Tara, I'm not your type," I said quietly but very pointedly. She did not take me seriously. Maybe, this whole FemDom thing has guys playing hard to get and needing to be convinced. "Let me be the judge of that" she replied just as pointedly. "I'm not into your scene, Tara," I told her. "At all." She smiled at me, the cat stalking the mouse. I stared back; a real predator surprised at the cat's boldness. I sighed. "Tara, speaking as your friend, you do not want to do this." She smiled dangerously, or what she thought was dangerous; her eyes sparked as she fought to keep her temper in a public place. Tara did not like to be balked. "I know what I want David!" I tried one last time. I opened to her, allowing the smile I hid behind to drain. I looked at her through the flat dead eyes that watched me shave every morning. I let her into the place where she was a target that I would not focus on, because the target is irrelevant. I had lived beyond the horizon of her darkness before the training wheels came of her bicycle. I did not want to hurt Tara, but I no one crossed my lines. She looked back, blind to what I was showing her. I could see the glow of expectation and desire around her. If I had not been challenged, I would have felt sorry for her. "What are the rules to this encounter?" I asked. "Winner takes all," she shrugged confident in her victory. I stared out the window. "No quitting," she continued, "We keep going until someone gives." She gave me a huge smile. Someone giving meant until someone was taken. "When?" I asked with a nod of acceptance. "We stay here long enough to relax, digest the food a little," she explained, "Then we go over to my place, down to my gym, and we mix it up until I win." Her smile grew in confidence the quieter I became. I was holding down the rush of adrenaline. My body was trying to enter hyper-excitement. My senses heightened as I fought to control the instinct to do what I had been trained to do in that situation, kill her. I nodded and sat back relaxing. It would be an hour before we would move; I did not want to expend energy fighting my body. I pushed the plate out of the way. I had eaten enough in case it went longer than expected, but I did not want to be weighed down if it did. I sat and began the process of coming down. I relaxed every portion of my body individually the way I had done a thousand times. First, my mind thinking of something else, relaxing my facial muscles and forcing them into the rigor of death.. My neck rotated left, right, back, forward, and then released the tension. Shoulders rotated forward then back. Biceps and triceps, forearms, and down to wrists. The hands are important so I flexed and released each finger. Back to the torso, taking deep breaths to stretch my lungs and the muscles in my rib cage. Abdominals, hip flexors, quadriceps, and hamstrings. I brought tension to my calves and released. Rotated my feet, and stretched each individual toe. I sat quietly as Tara finished eating. Almost I was ready, I needed more though. I had read it in a novel, a description of the attitude a monk exuded, 'serenity of purpose.' I reached for it, bending my body and will to one objective. My instructors had said we would find different ways to deal with the wait before the target gave us the shot. A lot of the other guys talked about different things. I had no need for tricks; I had plenty of experience waiting for my time to come. I waited relaxed and ready. I saw her at the edge of my awareness. She was burning energy in the anxious expectation of conquest. I waited. She talked about a hundred different things, somewhere deep inside where I never looked, laughter echoed. I listened to her, and waited. Finally, she signaled the waiter for the check. When he came over, she paid. She smiled at me, another wasted show of domination. I followed her out of the restaurant, and into her car. "Can you drive me home for a minute? I need my workout clothes," I asked. "Sure," she replied I could feel her body revving up even higher. I went up to my apartment, into my bedroom, and opened the drawer with my workout clothes. I changed quietly into a pair of black rowing shorts, and sweats. I threw my wallet and keys into a small waist bag and went out to her car. Before I closed the door, I felt I should make one last try. "Are you sure?" I asked her. She smiled and nodded at the door. I closed it and we drove to her place. Tara owned a beautiful brownstone, and used all three floors of it. Her parents had money, and she was an only child. She owned an extremely successful gym, but the investment capital came entirely from her family, and there was no risk involved for her. Her parents had never gotten out of the habit of paying for everything. I could not blame them. Tara had been a late child, long after they had given up. Their adjustment to having given up was the only reason they did not completely spoil her. The brownstone had a personal gym in the basement; no weights, just a Stairmaster for an aerobic warm up and mats for her preferred form of entertainment. She opened the door to her house and pointed me toward the basement as she walked up the steps to the second floor. The first floor was her living room, library, den, and kitchen. Her personal space was on the second floor. I walked down the steps to the basement, turned on the lights, stripped down to my shorts, and started stretching. I figured it would take longer than my martial arts matches or even the wrestling of my high school and college days. I released some of my energy, revving myself up slowly, breathing a little faster, and then slowing down again. I kept my back to her when I heard her on the steps and beginning her own stretching. After about five minutes, I heard her say "Ready?" I turned around; Tara was impressive. She was wearing white spandex shorts over a light green bodysuit. It was really a one-piece workout swimsuit. She turned to model the outfit trying to distract me; trying to make me want. At the small of her back, the bodysuit split into five strips of cloth, two to wrap around her waist and become one over her crotch meeting the one that had run down her back and into the crack of her wonderful ass, the last two strips went up and down her shoulders to give her breasts unneeded support and came down to meet the two strips that were rushing to cover her femininity. I stared at her hungrily. She smirked at me. I did not smirk back; take in every possible distraction so that they lose power when the time comes. Training had taken over. "Ready?" she asked again. I took in a full breath of air expanding my chest, I released it slowly staring across at her; the prize. She did not know it yet. I nodded. "Remember no quitting, one person has to give," she said smiling seductively. I nodded again. She motioned me to the approximate center of the mats. I moved to it, she reached out her hand to shake mine. I gave her a quick shake. I watched her move. She was mostly a wrestler, but she had described a few instances where she had to scrap it out with a more than usually reluctant fellow. She went into a classic wrestling position; I joined her in it. I needed to hit her unexpectedly but not to hurt. I did not want that. I had to walk a fine line to keep her coming, letting her believe she could hold her own. We locked, unsurprisingly she was as strong as I expected. She had decent balance but it was obvious that I had to be one of the few men she had brought down here that could be her better in strength. I held back. We had different workout regimens, she liked size and tone, and I worked for efficiency. Unfortunately for her, being male gave me an edge. Some women hate to have that pointed out, but biologically the average male is nearly seventy percent stronger in the upper body than a woman; the disparity is not much in the lower half. Tara was not average; she would probably be considered even for a man. I had ground to give though, and was not average either. I let her test me, giving ground to make her show more of her strength, to make her waste energy. She would have had the female lead over me in endurance, but her regimen did not work on that and mine held to the maximum effort for the longest amount of time; purpose over flash. I needed her physically exhausted if I was going to beat through her mental defenses. She drove me backward and down. I turned to her left driving her strength down. I released and moved away from her. She got up slowly, surprise showed on her face and a lot of annoyance. She thought she had me pegged, but people rarely pay attention. They are so caught up in themselves that they do not notice when someone does not talk about himself or herself. I had wrestled for four years in high school and four in college. I was never one of the best but I could give anyone a hard fought match. My biggest problem was that I was a late bloomer; I was not fully developed until twenty-five. Tara was wrestling me with the full confidence of my ability and growth. She was good, but only a good play wrestler. She smiled and moved into me. She faked another lock up and tried to kick me in the thigh. I turned it at the last second. Hips do not lie so I had seen it coming. She had thrown a good fake, but her hips told me the truth. She smiled at me confidently; I looked into her eyes. She thought she hurt me. Laughter echoed deep inside. How could she have come this far and not read the subtle turning? I moved to her, faked the lockup, moved to the right when she went for it and kicked her thigh. It was solid but without power. She had challenged, but if she quit I would have let her go. I needed her confident for a little longer. I needed her to be angry just a step beyond reason with the taste of blood in her mouth. Challenged, I meant to take. She looked up at me surprised, in one second that surprise turned back into quiet confidence. She thought that was all I had to give. The bloodlust was flowing through her. She should have known I was stronger from our clench, but she was at the edge of not thinking. It continued for five minutes, she challenged again and again. I kept turning blows and using greater wrestling experience to get out of holds and clenches so I would not have to show how badly she was overmatched. She was strong but play fought. I was holding back trying not to cause damage. I hoped she would not surprise me and get hurt for it. It was in her eyes, she was beyond real thought. Sexual excitement, the taste of pain, and the greater challenge had carried her to the other side. Inside me an exultant cry repeated. Mine. MINE! MINE, GODDAMN YOU, MINE!!!!! I smiled and focused past her. I released the controls, letting adrenaline's song dance in my veins. Purpose flooded me and I hardened. We clenched and I let her turn me. She had my back and wrapped her arms around my rib cage. I filled my lungs to capacity, and held as she pulled me up into a reverse bear hug. I gave her thirty seconds. Kicking backward in rhythm, I struck her calves and knees. Twenty-five seconds. I started a loose rhythm of downward elbows on her upper arms and forearms. Twenty seconds. I flailed wildly keeping the blows raining down on her. Fifteen seconds. I lessened the power of the shots. I did not want to hurt her; I wanted to weaken her beyond return. She should have thrown me down but the flailing seemed panicked. Ten seconds. I increased the flailing. Five seconds. I brought my hands down to her grip. I let the air out of my lungs, and used whatever leverage I had to insert part of my thumb between us. I applied pressure with my other hand directly on top of her hands and pushed downward to attack the grip. She bent down to keep her hold. I stepped to the right and behind her thigh. I continued the motion around her, trying to get behind her. It is the best method of breaking a hold from behind by leveraging beyond their reach while trapping the hip. She tried to hold on to the bear hug instead of dropping out of it, or dancing in the direction I wanted to go. Leverage beat her. As she released, I drove an elbow and the beginning part of my tricep into her rib cage. It was a flat strike used only to strain and take some of the flexibility out of her rib cage. I moved away from her. Deep inside I gave a low whistle of admiration; the same sheen of sweat that covered my body covered Tara. It brought out the beautiful coloring of her skin. Moving backward I drank her in, taking in distraction when it did not count. She kept her distance, but I did not move forward. If she quit, I would have let her. Slowly, I saw confidence returning. I had not tried to hurt only wear her out. The minute I danced away from her some of the soreness drained out of her. Cross the line! She moved on me. We beat on each other for a few minutes. In truth, she beat at me, and I drained her. She tried to go head to head with me in pain tolerances. If she had asked, she would have known how badly she would lose. I let her take the majority of the shots in our exchange turning them again and again. I absorbed more punishment than what I was dealing to her but head to head, if she had asked she would have known I would be fighting long after she had broken down in blood tears. If she had asked, we would not have been there. I would have told her about my childhood, beatings upon beatings until pain is an expression of love. Pain on top of unhealed pain. I would have told her the truth. I lived through that truth, lived with it. They did not break me. They made me stronger, stronger than this woman in front of me. Tara never asked, but she paid. Pain was the fine edge of excitement for me, like the pleasure a child feels at picking a scab. We piled it on each other, blow after blow. She was good, strong, fast; a dangerous combination, but I wanted to take now. I cushioned the blows I threw at her, spreading damage across the maximum area. We kept dancing; moving in, she sent two shots at me. I turned them and kicked across her thighs. We separated. She moved back in, I took the shots on the outside of my arms, and kicked her with the full bottom of my foot in the ribs. If we clenched, I leaned on her forcing her to work on the edge of her power while I had not fully started moving forward in tempo. It was slow going, but I did not want victory. I wanted her exhausted beyond defeat. I let her lead our dance. She was bathed in sweat. I let her drive the pace at what she wanted, I knew if she thought she was in charge she would not stop. I did not want to stop. The voice in the depth was getting closer to the surface. She went for a wrestling clench that I turned out to trip her. I landed on top of her, stretched myself out so that my toes kept me balanced. Wrestling spins on top of an opponent, keep them driven into the mat, carrying as much of your weight as you can get on them. Do it for too long during a match and it is stalling, but here there was no referee. I could force her to work against an extra hundred pounds. She tried to rest on the bottom. I moved down her back until I was forcing her diaphragm into the mat cheating her of deep breaths. I used my forearm at the back of her neck to force her head down making it uncomfortable for her and cutting off more air. She was recovering slowly, but she was behind in endurance, and I was getting more rest out of the position. I let her up, and she moved back. She had to go into her reserve. I let myself drop into the next gear. I breathed deeper; she smiled at me. It must have seemed like I was running out of breath. I was taking in more oxygen, feeding myself, revving higher, letting the depths get closer to the surface. She moved in on me again, a predator that could not admit she had made a mistake. I love strong women! It was unfortunate that Tara wanted me bent to her will. We could have been equals. She moved fast, but I was reacting with distance between us. I let the darkness out to dance with her. This time it was fifty-fifty in the shot count. She was absorbing as much punishment, but it looked like she was giving as good as she got. For a second, I wanted her to quit. She faltered, and I took ground with that split second of mercy forgotten. There was no stopping now. We had been at it for a half-hour, much longer than she was used to. She had taken more punishment than she ever had to. I took the lead driving her back and down. Rage began to flow through my veins. Master or Slave She had told me, "I only know master or slave, nothing in between!" Inside my head, I could hear the furious yells. "Learn to crawl, slave!" It got louder and louder as blows fell on her. "QUIT, BITCH! Quit and walk away!" I had bellowed it at her. She turned her face up to me. From somewhere in her soul, I could see the challenge still in her eyes. Tara was a woman of her words; master or slave. "I'm sorry," I whispered. I felt the voice inside howl its victory. It took me over for the split second that it takes to capture mercy, pity, empathy, and any emotion. It dragged them all down into the little box I built on the last day I cried myself to sleep from the pain. It left behind only the waiting and the purpose. I beat her, not with the helpless frustration that a boy beats his wife or girlfriend, nor with that impotent anger. I beat her with soulless purpose. She had made a choice; master or slave and challenged me with it. The clues were all there, but she did not want to pay attention, or maybe she knew all along how it had to end. I beat her into defeat, and then deeper. I beat her until her will shattered on exhaustion. Master or slave! I stopped; I let her swim in the sound of her sobs, and hot feeling of tears. She lay flat on her stomach crying. I watched as her breaking stopped, and she started to heal inside trying to build up what I had taken from her. I felt something release inside me, a return of the human. Pure lust, undiluted by anything soft rose inside me. No quitting, someone must give; someone must be taken. More of the words that Tara lived by. I untied the ties of my shorts. I could see her watching as I unlaced them recognition came to her eyes. Someone must be taken. I pushed the shorts down my hips to my feet and stepped out of them toward her. She did not even try to move away from me. I reached down grabbing a fistful of her sweat-matted hair. I pulled her up until she was on her knees with my cock inches from her mouth. I pulled her toward me as I cut the distance between her face and my crotch. Blood flooded, and I got harder the closer her face came to me. I could feel her breath on my balls as her face forced my dick up and to the right. Her eyes looked up at me, not pleading just accepting. She had been playing a game before me. I was always different, and now she was the prize. I was harder then I had been in my modest sexual experience. I felt like the blood would never stop pumping into my dick. I pulled my hips back running my dick on her face. I watched fascinated as I rubbed the tip over her face. She watched it equally fascinated. One clear liquid drop came out of my dick as I ran it across her lips. Her tongue extended outward and over her upper lip to absorb the moisture into her. I pulled her head up and back. She looked up at me and kept her tongue running across her lips. I pulled my dick into position where her tongue ran between my dick and her lips. I smiled down at her. MINE!!! I pushed my hips forward driving my hardon into her mouth. She stopped licking her lips, but her tongue never stopped moving. It ran back and forth along bottom of my dick as I took her mouth. Her hands came up weakly to my hips as I kept driving until I hit the back of her throat. She started pushing back as the gag reflex hit. I pulled back. She breathed around the hard dick in her mouth. I stroked forward again. One sudden hard stroke, and back out. Her eyes widened as the head of my dick contacted the back of her throat and pulled out almost completely only to be driven into her mouth again. I used her mouth for my pleasure, giving nothing back to her. I stroked deep, then shallow, and deep again. I pulled out of her mouth, and pulled her face into my crotch until she understood and extended her tongue. I used her tongue on my ball sac, on the bottom of my dick, and finally on my dickhead. I could feel the loss of control coming. I went back and down on my knees forcing her face to stay in constant contact with my dick. On my knees with her face in my crotch, I pulled her head back. As her mouth opened, I drove forward until the only air she could breathe was moistened with the sweat on my pubes. I pulled out slowly reveling in the approach of orgasm. I looked down at her and drove my hips forward while pulling her head onto me impaling her mouth on my dick. I left it there until she began to pull away unable to breathe. I helped her pull her mouth off me to sit the head of my dick just inside her lips. She looked up at me; I smiled and nodded to my dick. She surrendered further. She licked around the head of my dick furthering my climb to completion. I sat back on my heels using her hair to keep my dick enclosed by her mouth. I used her hair to stroke myself deep into her mouth, pulling her mouth nearly off my dick, and back onto my dick. She kept her tongue moving now, stroking the bottom of my dick as I rested deep, and on the sensitive tip when I pulled back. I felt the orgasm build from my chest. I drove up to my knees pushing her back with my dick at the back of her mouth. I needed the leverage to push the pace into satisfaction. I used her hair again to leverage my dick deep inside her mouth, and almost out again. I felt the orgasm travel down my chest into my abs, up my thighs into my ball sac. Both pleasure routes met at base of my dick, and followed the natural path. I drove forward to the back of her mouth and downward into her throat. The orgasm blew through my dick and down her throat. The first convulsion was barely through when I sat back on my heels pulling her face to keep deep contact with my dick. My head fell back as the second convulsion forced my hips forward trying to bury my dick deeper inside her mouth. I let go of her hair as the final convulsion triggered. Gravity kept her face on my dick. She pulled back slowly but still caught the third jet of semen in her mouth. I rested letting my body come down. I could feel her hair tickling the inside of my right thigh, my ball sac, and my still engorged penis. On the edge of consciousness, I could hear the exhausted cough as she tried to swallow/spit out cum. Her head fell off my lap and onto the mat. She was still on her knees. I stood up, and looked down at her. Her face was inches from my toes. She was too weak to even change positions so her ass stuck up in the air. No winner until someone is taken. I walked behind her to stare down at her upraised ass. I smiled to myself. God, how I had wanted this woman! Unfortunately for Tara, I had not lost my hard-on or my mental excitement. She had challenged me, winner take all, and I was not going to leave unsatisfied. I knelt between her calves and enjoyed the view of her firmly muscled ass from up close. I ran my hands down her back, onto her ass, and her thighs. I reached around to the front juncture of hip and waist and pulled her ass into my crotch. I rubbed myself on her white spandex covered crack for a few seconds. I ran my hands on her thighs, ass, and small of her back before I reached just inside her spandex shorts and pulled them over hips, across ass, and down her thighs. I lifted up one knee at a time to take them completely off her body. I looked down. The bodysuit buttoned over her crotch with two small green buttons. I was not in the mood to be careful so I popped the buttons off. The strip running down her ass crack sprung up and onto her lower back leaving her pussy uncovered to my inspection. Her pussylips were shaved clean. I gave a sigh of pleasure. I reached with my right hand underneath to where her stomach ran down to her pussy and felt a perfectly shaped line of pubic hair. I ran my fingers on her ultra-firm naked asscheeks, and studied a stunningly beautiful pussy. Her pussy lips had no extra flesh to them; they were also puffy at the moment. She had a very pretty asshole too. I pulled her hips back to me. I placed myself carefully and ran my dick between her asscheeks. It was pleasurable, rubbing myself along the crack of her ass, only the bottom of my dick getting friction. I had to do it so I raised my hand and brought it down in a sharp crack on her asscheek. I gave the other the same treatment. I backed up, and started running fingertips up and down her ass, her thighs, and whatever part of her calves I could reach. I pushed my self forward using my hips and dick on her ass to push her forward also. I ran small circles on the inside of her knees. I grabbed her hips and pulled her back so that her ass was parallel to the floor. She was mine now, and I meant to play her out. I reached forward to grab the bodysuit and used it to pull her upper body to me. Her hands came off the floor and her back came into contact with my chest. I pulled the bodysuit off her. After throwing it aside, I reached around her to play with her breasts. I bit, licked, nibbled her neck while alternating between stroking her nipples, milking her breasts, and running my hands down her tight abs to stroke through sparse pussy hair. At the same time, I ran my dick up her ass crack again; at times I would free my dick from her ass to run the head along her pussylips. At first, I took the heat and moisture from her pussy to be from the workout she had been through, but she grew hotter and wetter. Her breathing alternated between deep sighs, and short shallow breaths. My dick was covered with her juices as I continued running my hands over her body. I pushed her upper body forward again. She went down on her elbows. I had enough, I wanted her body furthered surrendered to me. I ran my thumb up and down her labia. She shuddered the first time. I stroked her lips and outer pussy incessantly. I stayed away from her fully extended clit. At a young age, I had read the way to do this was to approach the clit, get as close as you could, and then move away. To continue to stroke and stroke, everywhere around the clit never touching it. Eventually orgasm comes, but an incomplete one. One of my other female friends had smiled at me when I described this to her saying that she was very dickcentric, and for her any orgasm without a hard dick inside her was incomplete. I wanted that now from Tara, an incomplete orgasm. I continued to stroke her inner thighs, her outer lips, and inner lips in heartless motions approaching but never touching her clit. She came, and it was incomplete. Her cries of pleasure were unsure, as if she had tried to swallow them. She had not though; she was too weak. She shuddered but towards my hand as if in the middle of orgasm a more powerful one had begun to build. I smiled to myself. I repeated the process now with my right hand. She whimpered but I did not care. She was mine, and this was my pleasure. I stroked, fondled, and caressed, every unforceful hand movement that could be performed on open female genitalia. I felt her sobbing in frustration. She was reaching for something that I would not give her yet. Her body was on the other side of an unfamiliar arousal. I gave then. It was what I wanted for her to bond her even more to me. I backed off of her, holding my hard dick in my left hand preparing myself as I started small circles with my right thumb on her clit. Clockwise, counterclockwise, stroking up and then down. She came hard. She threw her pussy into my hand amid violent convulsions. After the second convulsion, I placed the head of my dick carefully between her beautiful pussy lips while continuing to stroke her pussy. On the fourth shuddering of her powerful frame, I impaled her. She was tight, wet velvet. I reached around the inside of her hips, and pulled her back trying to embed my cock deeper inside her. I pulled back almost completely out of her so that only the tip of my dickhead was keeping her pussylips spread, and pulled her hips to my body again. I pushed/pulled her away to the same position, and this time combined a pull from my arms and the driving force of my hips. She came even more violently than the last time. Her mind had her sexuality imprisoned, and her challenge had made me the jailor. I stayed still enjoying the flood of wetness, the gripping and releasing pressure that her contractions were giving my dick. I waited until she was done with her orgasm. Inside I could feel the dark part of myself smile remorselessly down at her. I had never felt more in control of myself, of a woman, of anyone else. I alternated strokes started in a ten-beat count. Pulling back until the tip of my dickhead was splitting her lips open, forward enough just to get the entire dickhead inside her plus half an inch of the penis body. Pulled back again until I was in the original position splitting her pussylips with the triangular tip of my dick. Repeat. Again and again. I was splitting her pussylips. Her hips weaved restlessly; she wanted more. I gave it to her. I powered my body forward in one vicious thrust into her pussy. She swallowed a cry of satisfaction. I pulled out again splitting her pussy lips. I repeated the short stroke. I heard her frustration. The remorseless smile got wider. The physical breaking had been necessary for the sexual breaking to be allowed. I repeated the short strokes eight times, then two punches to the depth of her pussy. Seven short strokes and three deep, powerful lunges. She became louder in the satisfaction of the deep strokes and the frustration at the shorter ones. This continued up and down the stroke count. I got to one short stroke, and gave her nine long ones. I laughed as the power of the situation flooded my chest with pleasure. I should not have had that much control but something more than lust had a grip on me. I stroked deep into her ten times. I continued deep strokes. I hesitated with her body on the razor's edge of orgasm; only the tip of my dick was in contact with her pussy again. She sobbed real anguish. I penetrated my dickhead and a half-inch of penis beyond that and pulled back out again. Her body shuddered in an incomplete orgasm again. She banged her head into the floor but I did not care. Her game. Her rules. My victory. I traveled up the stroke line again. Eight deep, two short. Seven deep, three short. At 7 short, the strokes changed. I settle into a steady pace of seven and seven. My mind had taken over my body, and I moved with the control that a singular purpose allowed. The violence of my screwing into her increased, until I lost the rhythm. I used my hips to power in and out of her. I combined hands and hips to give strokes more power. I was on the other side of manhood inside of deepest part of myself using pleasure to bury me deep into Tara's psyche. I heard her cry to me then. "please!" I did not care and continued to stroke in and out of her pussy. "please, David!" I stopped my movement with my dick deep inside her. "please cum!" she cried. I forced her forward then. I owned a poster once called 'Surrender'. It was mind-blowingly sexy. In it a female was on her knees wearing the most torn up pair of jeans I had ever seen. Most of her upper body was on the ground. Her face was to the left, her breasts pushing into the ground, her arms flat, her hands fisted in desire. The position was amazing and proclaimed the title of the poster. Surrender. She had surrendered her body as the pleasure of her lover. I used my hips and hands to push Tara into the position. I pushed her face into the mat then her breasts. Her left hand was inches from her face, her right arm extended forward. Complete surrender of her body to me. I put my hands on her shoulder blades to further push her into the mat and started pumping myself to orgasm. I was on the edge of orgasm and exhaustion, but my dick did not care. I plunged in and out of her gaining power and speed with each stroke. I wanted to cum now, but more I wanted her to cum again. I did not know how many times or if she came while I was control-fucking her, but I wanted her body to convulse around my dick one last time. I felt it. She came again. Her pussy flexed and unflexed around my dick. I growled and pumped harder. I pumped deep into her, almost completely out of her and back into her depths. Finally, I shot deep inside her. She came again! Her mind, her body completely mine. It was the strongest orgasm I had noticed. Her body shuddered violently, but she had no strength left for more. Inside her pussy though, there was crushing pressure on my dick, release, and then more crushing pressure. Every squeeze seemed to coincide with a shudder of my own. My dick went from unfeeling to hypersensitive at the beginning of my orgasm and every squeeze on my dickhead threw me a little higher into pleasure. We stopped. She slid forward. I followed with my dick still inside her. She lay on her stomach with me resting on her back. She gave an involuntary shudder when I slipped out of her, and her pussy squeezed trying to keep me inside her. We lay with me on top her for a few minutes. I got up and stared at her naked back, ass, and legs. She was drenched in sweat and arousal. I picked up my shorts and started dressing. I walked over to my sweats and finished the job. She had not moved. I walked over to stare at the statuesque body again. I smiled gently down at her. I walked around so I could look down at her face. Her left hand was touching her cheek, her eyes were closed. I watched her for a few seconds realizing the deep breathing meant she was asleep. I went down on one knee and stroked her hair away from face. I reached down and kissed her temple. I left her there in her own sweat and desire. ------ Sometimes I miss the friendship Tara and I had. We were not real friends, but there was an unwritten understanding of what we both wanted from each other. I never replaced her with another. I can get pretty melancholy about it, but only at work. At home, my situation changed for the better. Tara asked me to move in with her, and after much consideration I decided to. She had been the one that turned on me. I was responsible for not speaking about myself to her, but she had never asked. One afternoon I found how much for the better my situation had changed. I got home to find an absolutely exquisite blonde sitting on her heels facing the front door with a naked Tara standing behind her. I raised my eyebrow at Tara, she smiled gloriously at me. I inspected the blonde. She was stunning. She had a wealth of waist length blonde hair. It had an enticing soft curl to it. She had jade green eyes that stared up at me in flourishing desire combating concern and fear. I stared back, and she looked away from me down at the floor, but in the instant before her eyes broke contact I could see desire spike over concern and fear. Deep inside a voice hummed appreciatively. She had perfect breasts, or at least symmetrical breasts, which is close enough. They were the exact size for her frame with only a teenager's sag to them. She had fit abs that led to a trimmed BLONDE bush. I sighed in pleasure; blonde pubic hair is kin to heaven. Her hands were resting on firm, almost muscular thighs. I looked up at Tara whose smile was one of satisfaction. It was obvious that I was more than pleased, but I wondered what was going on. I am not stupid, just unassuming. I walked to stand in front of the blonde. Her knees parted instinctively. I took another step forward. I saw Tara look down at the blonde and push her forward with a knee. The blonde flowed. From sitting on her heels to kneeling with her face inches from my pant-covered dick, the motion had rhythm. Her hands came up to work carefully on my belt, my pant hook, and zipper. Her fingers slipped inside the elastic of my jockeys and with constant pressure gently pushed my underwear and pants to my ankles. She hesitated there, looked up at Tara, unsure of herself. Something passed between them. The girl, she could not be older than twenty, reached underneath the pants to untie my shoes and pull them off my feet. She pushed my socks, underwear, and pants off my body. Every movement was a sexual ballet. Finally, she flowed back up to her knees and went nose to head with my dick. I was hard so my dick was pushed into her face. She reached up to encircle the base with her small hand. She made a study of it as if unsure where to start. She looked up at Tara again with my dick an inch from her lips, and smiled gratefully. She carefully extended her tongue to lick the drop of precum that escaped me. She brought her tongue inside her mouth and closed her eyes luxuriously. She opened them and looked up at me. She kept hungry eye contact with me as she extended her tongue again. This time to wet my entire dickhead with her saliva. She tasted every part of my dick with every part of her tongue as if seeking the taste buds that would let her enjoy the flavor the most. Master or Slave She gave my balls the same treatment. Tara reached down to hold her face in place. She grabbed my dick halfway down the stalk and pushed the blonde's face to me. The girl opened her mouth and accepted me inside her. Tara let go of my dick as soon as the girl had my head inside her mouth and used two hands on each side of the girl's head to fuck the her face onto my dick. The girl took all of me into her mouth and in her throat. She kept me for seconds, I could feel her desire spiking even higher. Tara pulled the girl's face so that only my dickhead was in her mouth. The girl took a long shuddering breath, and convulsed. Tara looked at me and smiled. The girl had come with nothing more than one deep stroke into her throat. Tara took a step forward then so that her hips were directly behind the blonde's head. She reached down and dug nails into the side of my hips. She was still aggressive, but knew how far I would allow her to go. I would not be pushed, but I could be convinced to be lenient. She used her hips to stroke the girl's mouth on my dick, and off again. She leaned down to give me her lips to take. Tara was taller than me so this little stunt must have been uncomfortable for her. Added to the discomfort was her effort to guide the blonde's efforts in sucking my dick with her hips. I did not care though. My hands came up to play with Tara's nipples. Slow, careful circles were a weakness of hers. Tara kept the girl on a steady rhythm with her hips. Finally, she stopped her hip motion and pushed the girl to the side only to kneel next to her. She took my dick out of the girl's mouth and gave it a slow tongue bath. She gave it back to the blonde's loving mouth. She let the girl take a few plunges into her mouth, and took it back to take me deep inside her own mouth. The trading back and forth continued for a few minutes until Tara ran her hand along my abs and felt the beginning of my orgasm. She took my dick away from the blonde, and took me down her throat. She sucked my dick at a furious pace helping me to the other side of orgasm. I grabbed her face and tried to plunge deep inside her, but she fought me. I came with only my dickhead inside her mouth. I came hard, but was angry. I enjoyed coming deep inside a woman not shallow. She looked up at me pleading an apology as she milked my dick with her hands and the suction from her mouth. When she was sure I was done, she turned to the blonde and forced the girl's head down beneath her own. She kissed her openmouthed, forcing the girl to accept my cum from her mouth. The girl convulsed again. My eyes widened. I did not know who this girl was but her reactions to being dominated were amazing. The rest of the night made me thankful that it was a Friday night. Tara led the blonde through her paces on my dick. The only time I had ever seen anyone cum that much was when Tara forced me to take her. Tara made very sure that I enjoyed her body also. She went so far as to take me in her very pretty asshole for the first time while licking the blonde to orgasm, which was another first. I can be melancholy about the loss of our friendship, but Tara tries to make sure I have very little time for anything but sexual pleasure. Maybe someday, I will ask her if she knew how it would end when she made it 'Master or Slave' between us. It is just that she adjusted so well. The End