Mind Fucked

He fucked my mind as surely as if He had fucked my pussy.

“When I get there, slut, you will be waiting for me…”

“You will kneel in the corner until I…”

“Wear your collar and know that I will use the leash to…”

His words surrounded me, filled me with longing. My back arched, my pussy dripped, and I moaned into the phone. Writhing on the bed, I pictured His next visit. He Dominated me with words, promising to Dominate me physically within moments of His arrival.

Not allowed to touch myself or cum, I whimpered and whined. I needed Him.

“I hate whining and whimpering. It’s beneath my slut to beg. Stop it. Now.”

I ceased my pathetic mewlings. The stern tone of His voice made my cunt clench. The scent of my arousal filled the room. Deep within my core, I ached.

All I’ve had for weeks are His words. He knows exactly what His voice does to me. Strong and stern, gruff and growly, He gave me what I needed – in the way He chose. He tortured my mind, thoroughly fucking it, until I panted with desire in His ear, trembling from head to toe with unreleased orgasms.

A few days later, He generously allowed one orgasm.

“Stay standing, pull your pants down, and get four fingers in my cunt.”

I rushed to do His bidding.

“Tap your fucking g-spot, stretch my pussy, bitch.”

Four fingers slammed into my pussy, stroking my g-spot over and over. Guttural, animal noises filled the room. My body convulsed as I came.

“I want it dripping down your fucking legs, slut. Pull your pants up. Don’t even think of cleaning it up.”

Terrified to let Him hear my whimpers of pleasure, I silently did as He bid.

“Thank you, Sir.”

I walked around in a state of heightened awareness and total relaxation – thoroughly and utterly mind-fucked.