24 · Extra 9 I WANNA BE YOUR SL*VE 3.0
I want to be your master.
A note from the author:
Please view with caution: This content contains descriptions of sexual acts, obscene acts, bondage, suspension, candle wax dripping, whipping, drugging, masturbation and dilation, riding, body licking, forced swallowing of semen, leg sex, foot sex, oral sex, anal plugs, enemas, prostate orgasm, pain control, verbal abuse, obedience, incontinence, discipline, and safe words.
——
Lawrence wanted me to tie him up. I'm not crazy, and I'm not hallucinating. Lawrence wanted me to tie him up.
“Don’t you want to, Ray?” Lawrence made me sit on his lap. “Don’t you remember what you were talking about in your sleep last night?”
Uh… I think I did have a dream last night. I dreamt that Lawrence was arrested by the FBI, and they tortured him with all sorts of cruel methods. They suspended his strong arms for hours, whipped his back with a leather whip soaked in cold water, and dripped melted candle wax onto his full pectoral muscles. They even gave him an aphrodisiac, making his already terrifying libido even stronger. I stood outside the cell bars watching all of this. Until Lawrence slowly raised his head, his deep blue eyes filled with hunger, and he called out my name—and then I woke up, realizing it was the real Lawrence calling me. A few minutes ago, he had fucked me until I passed out, and a few minutes later, he had fucked me awake again. I guiltily avoided looking into his eyes, but Lawrence, while fucking me hard, chuckled in my ear, “What does ‘Don’t touch him, let me handle this’ mean?”
How could I dare tell him the truth? I lied and said I was going out to eat and I'd pay. But the lie was so clumsy that even I couldn't fool myself. Lawrence didn't immediately expose me, and so this whole scene unfolded. I sat on Lawrence, staring blankly at the bundle of sexy leather straps in my hand, while Lawrence lay comfortably on the bed, his arm behind his head, watching my bewildered state, unable to distinguish between reality and dream. I tried to read his eyes, and could roughly come up with three interpretations: Lawrence was rewarding me, Lawrence wanted me to take the lead, or Lawrence had developed masochistic tendencies. I'm not crazy, so I ruled out the last one; I didn't do anything to please him, so I ruled out the first one. As Sherlock Holmes said, after eliminating all the impossible, whatever remains, however inconceivable, must be the truth—so am I still dreaming?
“Don’t just stand there, Ray.” Lawrence squinted his eyes contentedly and gently thrust his hips against my groin. “Do something to me…”
My mind went blank, and I felt like I was on fire. Holding the rope, I mumbled incoherently, "Wait, Caesar... Can I... can I do it? I don't know how, use... use this..."
“It’s okay if you don’t know how,” Lawrence said, his hand stroking my side and pinching it twice, a gesture that was both encouraging and seductive. “I can teach you how to tie me up.”
His palms were burning hot, like branding irons. My entire lower abdomen was instantly ignited by lust. My mind was a jumbled mess, and my body wouldn't obey me. I mechanically did whatever Lawrence told me to do. He told me to untie the rope, first wrap it around his neck, then pull both ends to his chest, cross it at the cleavage where his large pectoral muscles were so clearly defined, then cross it again at his firm, tight lower back, tie my arms, and then wrap it back around to my front.
I dared not continue, staring blankly and mesmerized at Lawrence's lower abdomen. The lines of his abdominal muscles were incredibly defined, the veins converging towards his penis clearly visible; I had witnessed countless times how powerful his waist was. But I never imagined I would have the chance to bind that area myself, or even… even to tie up his thick, monstrous weapon. I'd given him oral sex countless times, but every time I saw that thing that made me moan, I felt ashamed. Even now, I can't look directly at Lawrence's naked body without feeling guilty; otherwise, I would definitely die from a nosebleed.
But now, he's lying beneath me, his muscular body completely exposed for my admiration, even personally instructing me on how to handle him. Just thinking about it makes me faint. I gripped the ends of the rope, looked at Lawrence, and asked excitedly yet incredulously, "Really? Are we really going to tie him up?"
"Isn't this what you wanted?" Lawrence gave a "please continue" smile.
I finally believed he was serious. My trembling fingers tentatively explored his erect penis, only to recoil as soon as they touched it, burning me. My gaze inevitably fell on the tattoo on his lower abdomen—the menacing machete—a constant reminder that the person beneath me—or rather, on top of me—was an extremely dangerous, deranged killer. Even though he was my husband, my love for him was always tinged with fear. Even lying in bed, my hands bound, Lawrence's aura was incredibly oppressive. His gaze made me tremble, unable to distinguish between excitement and fear. Finally, I resigned myself to my fate, saying, "No, I can't do it..."
“You can do it, Ray.” Lawrence was still smiling, showing no intention of letting me go. I guess he would be just as at ease even if he were on the gallows. “You have to tie me up. That’s an order.”
An order. That makes me feel much better. Yes, it's Lawrence's order. Lawrence wants me to tie him up, just like he likes to do to me. Lawrence wants to bring my absurd fantasy back to life. Lawrence wants to fulfill my secret desires. Lawrence feels perfectly comfortable giving himself to me. Lawrence wants to relinquish some control to me… Wait, am I overthinking this? Am I just indulging in wishful thinking? Maybe he just wants to try a different approach?
I didn't know either, so I just vaguely followed his instructions and tied his thighs up as well. The red rope dug deep into his strong thigh muscles, looking incredibly erotic, and I couldn't take my eyes off him. But no matter what, I refused to tie up his genitals, not only because I was afraid he would retaliate later, but also because I was afraid that it would swell up even more due to poor blood circulation, and I would be the one who suffered in the end. Lawrence shrugged—his pectoral muscles were also heaving, insanely sexy—as if to say "okay," and then commanded, "Sit on top and move yourself."
My face flushed crimson. I lifted my buttocks and, under Lawrence's burning gaze, used my fingers to dilate myself. Several vibrators had just been inserted there; it was wet and soft, and after only a few thrusts, I could hear soft, wet sounds. I even felt an urge to swallow my own fingers. I was filled with shame, yet I couldn't control myself. I could only lean down and bury my face in the crook of Lawrence's neck, deeply inhaling his scent to slightly alleviate my thirst for him. Lawrence's hot breath brushed against my ear. "Get up, let me see your face."
Reluctantly, I climbed off him, deliberately placing my hand on his pectoral muscles as if to take advantage of him, and even boldly pinched them a couple of times. Lawrence squinted his eyes contentedly, which meant he didn't mind me doing that. So I slid my hand down to his abs, tentatively tracing the grooves with my fingertips, feeling each prominent vein. I had been coveting that area for a very long time; Lawrence had always been the one enjoying my body, and I rarely, or rather, never had the opportunity to do as I pleased with him. Lawrence gave me a tacit approval, and I instantly felt a burning thirst in my mouth. I bent down and began licking his abs with my tongue, licking diligently while keeping my eyes up, both excited and nervous, observing his reaction.
Lawrence's expression now was just as sexy as when he was fucking me. His thin lips were slightly parted, a blush of desire rising on his cheekbones, beads of sweat sliding down his eyelids, the ambiguous water trails across his azure eyes like a tear. Lawrence didn't have that kind of thing, but that's precisely why I wanted it even more. I held onto his shoulders, leaned forward, and licked away the slightly salty droplet, like a dog affectionately licking its owner. It was like a tiny liquid bomb exploding violently in my mouth, instantly filling my mouth with Lawrence's taste. I felt hot all over, becoming bolder, even initiating a kiss with him, mimicking how he kissed me, licking his lips, and then, after parting my lips, licking his teeth. Lawrence's breathing became heavy, he opened his teeth towards me, and my tongue immediately slipped inside. At the same time, he thrust his hips forward, his rock-hard penis slamming directly into my opening. Caught off guard, I was knocked onto him. Lawrence thrust rapidly with the strength of his waist, but each time he deliberately went in neither too deep nor too shallow. I couldn't help but kneel on him, holding his waist with both hands for support, and I bounced on his genitals like riding a horse.
Good heavens, even though I hadn't tied it up, it was still engorged and swollen bigger than usual. Lawrence's genitals, like him, were beastly; their size and shape were something that would shock me no matter how many times I experienced them. No artificial plastic penis could compare to that living monster with its constantly pulsating veins. Every time Lawrence penetrated me, I could feel his pulse in my softest, most sensitive depths, the frequency of his powerful heartbeat. Lawrence thrust in and out, as if his heart had grown inside me, pressed tightly against mine. The pleasure transcended the joy of physical intercourse; it was an intimate connection, a fusion of souls. In that instant, I knew Lawrence was mine. I was overjoyed and bewildered.
Even when bound, Lawrence could still make a mess of me. Even though I was on top, I craved his commands more than usual, my body doubly sensitive and unsatisfied. My anus seemed to be chasing after Lawrence's penis. Every time he pulled out, I would willingly sit down; every time he thrust in, I would lift up, as if I were strung on his penis, my body becoming his vessel and ornament. Like the tattoo on my lower back, I was Lawrence's scabbard—I was so excited that I didn't even need to use my hands to soothe myself, I came directly from behind. Sticky semen shot onto Lawrence's abs, and he fucked my post-orgasmic anus even more roughly. I felt as if I were melting into his penis, my colon convulsing and enveloping his glans, like a starving mouth insatiably demanding more. Only when he ejaculated deep inside me, wave after wave, did the hunger of my soul find relief, like receiving rain, and I collapsed limply against him.
I lazily raised my eyes and was shocked to find that Lawrence had actually freed himself from the leather ropes binding him.
I should have known that being controlled would make a twisted control freak even more tyrannical. Lawrence brutally thrust into the mattress again and again, from the front, back, and sides, changing positions constantly. No matter how many times I called for safety words, he ignored me. He seemed intent on impregnating me, ejaculating until my belly swelled. The semen inside me sloshed back and forth with his brutal thrusts, making a gurgling sound even more lewd than penetration itself. Finally, when my vagina couldn't take any more, Lawrence pried open my mouth and ejaculated inside. I couldn't tell if it was ejaculation or a form of oral sex. It felt like my entire body had become a sex organ. Lawrence used my anus, mouth, armpits, thighs, palms, and even the soles of my feet in turn. By the time we finished, the skin in those areas was almost completely chafed raw. My body felt both swollen and throbbing, and I begged him in a low voice to clean me up. But Lawrence wouldn't let me expel the semen. As soon as he pulled his penis out, he put the anal plug back in and carried me, exhausted, to the bathroom.
I was dazed and confused as Lawrence handcuffed and shackled me to the water pipe on the wall, my legs spread in an "M" shape. This position made it impossible for me to hold the anal plug in; it kept slipping out, the overflowing semen pushing it further out. I didn't even care about the shame of being forced to expose my private parts; I struggled desperately to keep it from falling out, at least not in front of Lawrence, but it was all in vain. It popped out with a "pop," and for a moment it felt like incontinence; large gushes of white fluid gushed from my anus, all flowing onto the floor. I was filled with shame and rage, and only dared to look after it had all leaked out. Sticky semen strands clung to my anus like spiderwebs. Lawrence scraped the semen into my mouth with his fingers, playing with my tongue as he chuckled and asked, "Want to be filled up again, Ray?"
I discovered that Lawrence particularly liked to call my name when I was aroused. Like a slave owner calling upon a slave to confirm ownership, a master calling upon a pet dog to elicit a response, a lover calling upon their lover to ignite their desire. And I, like a slave, like a dog, like a foolish boy in love, nodded in response to Lawrence's clearly malicious remark. He slowly moved closer to me, I smelled his sensual scent, our breaths mingled like lips and tongues, I was lost in passion. We were about to kiss when, taking advantage of my momentary lapse in attention, Lawrence thrust a cold water pipe directly into my body.
My eyes widened instantly, my back stiffened, and I stared at him in shock and disbelief. He had actually pretended to kiss me to trick me into relaxing my anus so he could insert that thing even deeper! I felt wronged and resentful. Water kept flowing into my body, my legs were stiff, cold sweat poured down my back, and I trembled so much that I couldn't even utter a single word of accusation.
Lawrence watched for a moment as I writhed in agony from the forced enema, then pressed my head down, giving me a small, satisfying pleasure. He skillfully traced the shape of my lips with his tongue, his tongue slipping into my mouth and licking my palate. I involuntarily responded, but the sharp pain in my lower abdomen constantly reminded me that if he continued, my body would explode. Lawrence kissed me with narrowed eyes, showing no intention of stopping the enema or the kiss. I could only try to expel the tube with my sphincter muscles as if trying to save myself. But it was inserted too deeply; the little bit that came out was immediately pushed back in by Lawrence. He slapped my buttocks insultingly, whispering in my ear like he was talking to a whore, "So loose from being fucked, you can't even grip the tube properly?"
I cried out in pain, water streaming down my thighs. I cried out his name, then shouted the safety word, begging him to let me go. Lawrence did grant my request, removing my handcuffs and leg irons. But immediately he pressed down on my waist, forcing me to kneel, and pushed the tube deeper. I cried out in pain, and he increased the flow of water, touching my increasingly protruding belly.
“No, that’s enough…no, Caesar…” I scratched Lawrence’s arm with my nails, my legs trembling from the pain. “Stop…”
Lawrence remained unmoved. My stomach sank in waves, so heavy I couldn't straighten up, like a pregnant woman. A growing heat rose within me, and reason quickly vanished. I craved his penis like a wanton bitch. I think I must have shouted out all the lewd words in my head. Lawrence immediately stopped the water flow, yanked the hose out, and before the water and semen could gush out, roughly plugged my anus with his penis.
I was experiencing both pain and pleasure, a state of ecstasy that felt like I was dying. Lawrence whispered in my ear, "Ray, what's our safe word?"
"Master," I blurted out the completely unsafe word, "Master..."
"Good boy/girl."
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