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me suck your cock, master!” she demanded at one point, wild with a frantic desire that rushed through her uncontrolled—she wanted her man in every way  possible and her mouth was as hungry for him as her pussy.

He struck her with the crop for issuing the command, the hot sting reverberating  through her cunt, upward through her breasts, down through her ass and thighs. “Oh  yes, punish me, master,” she breathed, “for I’ve been very bad.”

Soon, though, he unchained her from the table, and instructed her to prance around  the room for him, being his little filly. She  happily made a grand show of it, swaying her ass, jiggling her breasts, stopping to caress them while he watched.

She lustily kept her gaze on his cock, which jutted prominently from the nest of hair  between his legs as he sat watching. He stroked it—the act becoming punishment in  itself because  she  wanted to stroke it.

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Clearly seeing her eye his rod, he cast  a devilish look. “Do you wish to suck it,

wanton?”

She started  to say yes, to plead  with him  to let her— but then a better idea struck her. She attempted to look playfully demure as  she softly replied,  “No. No,  I do  not.  You would have to…force me. It would be a  horrible but fitting punishment for such a bad girl as I.”

A slow, sure grin spread across her husband’s face—he clearly liked her way of extending the game. But then  his smile faded, his expression going stern, his eyesthrillingly dark. “Then force you I shall.  On your knees, my dirty little wanton— now!”

Trying to look frightened, she obeyed, dropping down before him. She could  barely wait to take his beautiful shaft between her lips, but she  had  to wait, until he made her do it.

She raised her gaze from his rod to his face, met his eyes. She might want to look demure, might wish to appear frightened, but in that moment, she knew the same heat swam in her gaze as in  his—and it was a connection nearly as intense as sex itself. His hands wound in her hair, his grip tight, as he  said, “Do it, vixen. Suck me,” and pushed her head down.

She took him deep, his enormous cock gloriously filling her mouth, and he held her head, moving her lips up and down on him, and she cherished the sensation of his taking control, even of this. She wanted to  suck him into oblivion, but she also loved hispower—loved it to a fault, she thought.

And yet, was it a fault  if she wasn’t sorry  for what she’d become? She was both sex slave and true lover to him, and she wouldn’t have changed a thing.

“Yes, suck me, Teesia,” he purred. “You suck me so good.”

His hands stayed in her hair, but over time, his grip lessened, and the movements became her own. When  she looked  up, his dark gaze had turned softer, more wanting.

Odd, she thought, the slow switch in control, the gradual surrender he perhapsdidn’t even realize he’d made.

“I  want  to  ride  you now,” she told him after releasing his wet shaft from her mouth,  â€śjust as you wished earlier.”

His smile was warm, lusty. “Yes—my filly riding me.”

Without hesitation, she climbed into his lap, straddling him, and sank onto his enormous cock with ease. They  both moaned at the union, and as  she moved on him in  sensual circles that stimulated her clit with  perfect precision, he  suckled her breasts,  caressed every inch of her he could reach—and soon they came together, collapsing in one another’s arms.

Control, she thought.  So much of our sex is about control.  Being the master. Authority. And also surrender. It was all a decadent delight she wanted to bask in forever.

Before she drifted off into a deeply satiated sleep in Ralen’s strong arms, she staredup in the dim lighting at their reflections in the viewing glass.

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I want him to know more  of what  I feel. I want him to understand…

The purity of surrender.

Of submitting.

Of being within someone’s power.

And I want to know more of that power. I want us both to know it all.

* * * * *

Over the coming days, Teesia couldn’t break free of the desire to take their master-and-slave games even further, to explore the roles even more deeply. There were moments when she could barely comprehend the  intensity of the  pleasure that being his slave brought her, and she simply knew there had to be even more. She yearned for  Ralen to know that same pleasure—she yearned  to trade their roles, just for one night.

One afternoon as she sat in the bathing tub,  she shared  her wish with Shaena as the pretty maid ran a soapy sponge down the length of Teesia’s thigh. Shaena frowned,instantly skeptical. “I don’t think Ralen is  made to be anyone’s slave, Teesia—even yours.”

Teesia sulked at her friend as the sponge swept over her uplifted calf and then ticklishly onto her toes. “Perhaps there are sides to him he doesn’t know about. I want to find out.”

Shaena still shook her head doubtfully—but  soon enough, she agreed to help Teesia concoct a plan. “I am your maid, after all,” she said on a sigh. “I  suppose I must do as you wish.”

Teesia responded with a smile.  “Thank you,” she replied, reaching to squeeze

Shaena’s hand.

“I just hope you know what you’re doing.”

“Don’t worry—I do. And my pussy is  throbbing just thinking about it.”

Shaena let out a light laugh. “To tell you the truth, mine is, too.” Yet then her grin  faded. “But  I’m still unsure about this, Teesia. The notion might excite you and me, but  that doesn’t mean it will excite Ralen.”

“Trust me, Shaena,” she said as she rose to  her feet, water sluicing from her curves  before she stepped into the drying cloth the other woman held out for her. “He will love it. He will love it more than he could ever imagine—just as I’ve loved submitting to him  more than I could have 

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