Black Bred - Sex Stories

Black Bred

... nothing I don't give you." I make a noise that is somewhere between a groan of frustration and a laugh. We are a partnership, with give and take, but he has his moments of this, and it is, as I know, natural. I am an independent, strong-minded individual, and I don't really think of myself as submissive, but when he really wants something? He usually gets it, and it turns me on. A lot of people throw around the words 'dominant, submissive, alpha'- it's sort of a trade hazard for me, as I am a dog trainer. And it usually makes me laugh, because when people in ahem, the adult world, start tossing the terms around? Well... some of the interpretations are pretty weird. The dominant wolf- or dog- in a pack doesn't go around picking fights, and he doesn't get his jollies bossing someone. Dominance simply means that when he DOES feel the need for things to go a certain way, they do. Tonight, the dominant one wants to breed me- and I will be bred. He leans towards me then, and takes my nipple in his mouth, bites gently and then smiles at me. "Let's go upstairs." I know, if I wanted to, I could say no, and he would respect it. But I don't WANT to say no. The practical considerations are not my responsibility any more- he has taken all that and reduced me to my most basic, primal self. I am sitting across his lap, straddling him, and I use the excuse of standing up to grind against him- just once. "Ah-" he cautions, the same sound we use with our dogs, who are out in the kennel ...

... tonight, as if I am an a****l incapable of language. I nearly am. Sensation is far more important than thought at this point, but his disapproval is clear and I subside. He stands up, and we walk into the house and up the stairs to our master bedroom together. The bedroom my husband and I share. The lights are not turned on, but the room is not completely dark. Silvery light comes from the windows on the outer wall and illuminates the bed, covers neatly folded at the foot, one of my duties this afternoon. "Go lay down," he says. "On your stomach." I KNOW he is going to draw this out, and I am ready NOW- but I obey, propping my head on my crossed arms and looking back at him, waiting. He unbuttons his shirt, folds it. "Now you are just being mean." I say. His normal routine is dropping things on the floor, where I inevitably trip over them. He smiles. "So?" He unbuttons his pants, removes his boxers, his shoes were already gone at the bottom of the stairs. I spread my legs, wriggle, I hope, provocatively, and he drops his pants and climbs onto the bed himself, lightly slapping me on the ass. "Stay still." I laugh. He begins to rub my back, lightly, starting with my shoulders, the back of my neck (which he bends to kiss and then nip, which is completely, unfairly erotic for no reason I can explain). Working down my spine, across my buttocks. It seems like hours but is probably only a minute or two, before he tells me to turn over and lays down next to me on his side, so we are facing ...