Spontaneous Combustion
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On her first trip to Jack's cabin...
Jeni waited. Nervous. Expectant. Afraid to say a word – being slave required a whole lot of silence at times, something she was growing used to any time she was in Jack’s presence – although the cottage seemed to demand even more of her slavish attention. The silence between them was rife with promise, gears grinding to a start in Jack’s brain; she could almost hear them break the quiet.
I am your slave, she repeated to herself. She’d shed the rest of her various selves the moment she stepped onto his property. She wasn’t a copy writer, a blogger, a 21st century woman in this place. Nothing but Jack’s surrendered slave.
“So what do you think?” He stared around – checking to see that all was in order in the room.
“It’s you – everywhere,” she smiled, trying to break the heavy weight of the moment. “I mean everywhere…hanging from the rafters, along the walls…and this floor, wow. Beautiful.” She gazed down at her bare feet, feeling years of history rise up through those rugged boards.
“I planned on putting in new, thought the old was too damaged to salvage, but once you walk across this in bare feet…just couldn’t make the change.”
“I know what you mean,” she smiled. “Almost feels soft on the feet.”
He nodded. “It does feel soft.”
Their eyes met and locked on. Ten seconds. A minute. Maybe two. Time gets lost in the depths of another’s eyes. And in that ten seconds, minute, maybe two, the fire in their bellies grew, so did the throbbing between thighs, in his cock and her pussy – which seemed to have been burning up since the day their affair began. All was quiet between them as they silently communicated the lust that had been expanding since they left his house early that morning. It suddenly reached a feverish peak.
“Over the table, slut,” Jack finally broke the silence. Jeni looked toward the table. At one end was another stack of books, but at the end near the kitchen, there was an open spot where she could bend over and rest her tits while he had his way with her. Doing as ordered, she moved there quickly and bent over, resting her naked chest on the smooth surface and pushing her naked ass in his direction, waiting for the first blow to land. Her collar rattled as she settled in.
To Jeni’s surprise there were no blows, just fingers fishing their way into her crotch to find the warm, wet hole. As he stuffed his hand inside, a gasp of pleasure escaped her lips, “Oh my gawd, yes,” she quietly seethed. He pulled his hand out and stuffed his hard erection where his fingers had been. Strength. Muscle. Rock hard. Ramming. Thrusting into her until it hurt inside, and hurt at the crease of her thighs where bare skin banged the edge of the hard wood every time he shoved with a little more force.
The discomfort didn’t matter. This was being taken, being used. Nothing mattered now but the fire and the fuel for that exhilarating blaze.
She was gone – Spontaneous combustion all over again…
As the hard ramming action slowed, he moved more deliberately, pulling out slowly, only to shove back in again, and again, and again in a reckless and erratic rhythm. The thrill ride could have gone on from there all day long as far as she was concerned. He picked up speed again, and abruptly lunged for the final time, depositing enough cum to have what her cunt could not absorb dripping down her thighs. When he pulled out, he gave her ass a firm smack, and announced, “I’m starving. Rustle up some grub, will ya?” His mood had definitely shifted.
“May I clean up first, Sir?” she asked.
“No, you may not!”
She looked at him stunned.
“Cum running down your leg?” he asked.
“Yes, Sir.”
“Good. Let it dry there.”
Her gaze lingered on his passive face. What was he thinking when he stared at her like that? She’d probably never know.
Jeni laughed then spent the next twenty minutes making bacon, eggs and toast that they both hungrily devoured. The cum was sticky before it dried, and itchy when it did. She felt like such a slut.
