Surrendered Desire - Sex Stories

Surrendered Desire

... upon hearing my plea.

"As you wish," he obliged and delivered another resonating smack followed by several more in quick succession. Each impact increased the blazing sensation residing on my skin while amplifying the stream of pleasure coursing through my veins.

"Arthur…gratitude," escaped my lips in a hushed moan, the words slipping out involuntarily. His eyes cloud over with depraved yearning as he continued his rhythmic invasion of my body, pushing me further towards an impending precipice.

"Never forget your allegiance to me," he rumbles into my ear, his grasp on my waist intensified. The combination of his presence embedded deeply within me, and his reminder of our unique bond was enough to unravel the tautly strung threads of restraint. Riding the tide of pleasure, I was left consumed by a single thought; Arthur and the exquisite torment he was introduced into me.

The thudding echo of my pulse filled my ears as Arthur took control, his assertive nature a potent concoction of authority and ardour. His fingers clawed against my sides, directing me in a dance choreographed by his will alone.

"Voice your desires," Arthur breathed, his whisper igniting my senses.

"All-encompassing," I managed to articulate, the phrase cascading from my lips like a waterfall breaching its confines. Arthur commended my compliance with an intensified manoeuvre that wrenches an involuntary cry from me.

In this singular instance, all external factors faded into ...

... insignificance - irrelevant was the perpetual clock or the burdensome history. In existence was solely Arthur's touch, his relentless hold on both physical and emotional aspects of me. Under his influence, I was malleable material ready for crafting, governed by his whims and mine.

"Plead... don't halt," I implored him, yearning for the continuation of his compelling domination. My mind orbited around this solitary focus, enveloped by a fiery craving for continuity.

"Naturally not," Arthur retorted with an ominous laugh, the sound teeming with assurance. "We're barely on the threshold."

As we moved as one, I drew comfort from the unfiltered passion exchanged - a healing balm for scars engraved by lost loves and shattered dreams. Within Arthur's hold, I found solace from life's brutalities, finding liberation to probe my innermost depths without apprehension or prejudice.

However, as our connection escalated to its peak intensity, doubts crept in regarding the endurance of this haven. Such ponderings were momentarily shelved though, muted within the symphony of our combined outcries and rhythmic resonance of skin upon skin.

"Arthur," I barely vocalized; the name serving multiple roles - a prayer, a plea, an acknowledgement of capitulation. In the ensuing quiet, I realized that despite our fleeting passion, the echo of Arthur's assertiveness would haunt my memories long after his departure. Maybe within that realization, some form of consolation could be found.

As the room ...