In a weird way, he owned me. This man, whoever he was, had seen inside me, found the dirty little secrets that made me tick, and now he controlled me with them, taunted me with that knowledge.

Would these perverted acts he had me committing be considered as depraved in his world as they would be in mine? I doubted it. If my parents found out what I was doing, they might disown me. If the school I worked for discovered my kinky extracurricular activities, I’d lose my job, and I’d surely lose some of my friends, if not all.

“Sophie!” he barked, bringing me back to the situation at hand.

“Sorry, huh?”

“Scrape that clit!” He growled, and all my concerns flew from my mind. With a conscious effort I let go of my reservations and dragged the end of the fork across my shiny pink button as I held the skin back with my other hand.

It hurt, but not as much as I expected.

“Now, press it into your clit.”

I started to, but it was uncomfortable. “But…”

“Do it.”

I caught my breath. “Yes, sir.” I did it then let out a whimper.

My obedience was rewarded with a, “Good girl.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“Now tell me that you’re a greedy girl who needs her cunt fucked.”

“I’m a greedy girl, and I need my cunt fucked.”

“Spank that ass with your spatula and keep repeating that. I want to hear that thing when it lands on your skin. I’ll tell you when to stop.”

I swatted my ass, switching cheeks when one side got too painful, all the while repeating the mantra he’d given me. “I’m a greedy girl, and I need my cunt fucked.” It was robotic, but in the back of my mind it reduced me to a hungry slut with overwhelming carnal needs, and nothing else mattered. I got lost in the scene until the rest of the world disappeared, and it was only him, me, and my desire to come.

“Good girl. You may stop now.” This brought me back out of my self-spanking trance. “Take those wristbands and put them on.”

“Yes, sir.” I slipped them on, fearing what would come next.

“Now clamp the attached clothespins to your nipples.” I did as he asked and my breasts raged with a fiery pain that was both awful and yummy at the same time.

“Go lie on the bed now. Lie on your back and fuck yourself with your vibrator.”

“Oh. Yes, sir.” I hadn’t expected this, but I climbed on the bed, lay back and made myself comfortable.

“I want you to think about opening your mouth and taking me inside it. Suck on your fingers with your free hand. Start with your thumb. Use your tongue to work it, pretend it’s my cock and you’re very hungry for it.”

I inhaled and a shiver traveled over my body, my nipples cried out, and I closed my eyes. I imagined him kneeling above me, shoving his cock past my lips, down my throat. It made me so wet, I felt a surge of my juices trickle down my leg. When I used my wrist to fuck myself with my vibe, the attached string tugged at my nipple. It was agony and ecstasy at the same time. “Oh yes. I like that,” I moaned.

“That’s because you’re a greedy little cumslut, aren’t you?” His voice sounded more ragged than it had previously, and I pictured him sitting in a chair on the other side of the computer, stroking his cock while I thought about sucking it.

“Yes, sir. Are you going to fuck me?” I asked boldly. MC had never mentioned actually fucking—between the two of us—in our conversations. It was always me fucking my cunt with a toy. But he had asked me to pretend I was sucking him off. Why not pretend he was fucking me? Because that’s what I wanted. More than anything. I wanted to feel him inside me. I wanted to experience his passion the way it came through over the internet in his emails, the way I heard it in his voice. I wanted to feel that coursing inside me.

“I haven’t decided yet. It depends on if you’re a good girl,” he said, toying with me.

That was okay. I was his. He could do with me whatever he liked.

At least during this session.

That was the agreement, right?

“I’ll be good,” I promised. “I’ll be so good. I’ll do whatever you want me to.” There was a teeny tiny part of me, in the way back of my mind, that rebelled against my words, but the wanton slut I’d become squashed her back and added a sultry giggle.

“Keep fucking yourself.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Reach back with your other hand. Your fingers should be wet from sucking on them. Now stick one up your ass.”

Eww. I’d never been much of an ass person, but I wanted him to fuck me so I did it. As I inserted my index finger I groaned.

“Fuck your ass with that finger.”

I groaned again, and this time he must have recognized my reticence, because he growled, “Do it bitch!”

“Yes, sir,” I warbled, and did as he asked.

“Who owns that pussy of yours?”

Contorted into a wild position in order to fuck myself in both holes at the same time, I breathed heavily. “You do, sir.” And the thought of that, of him controlling me, owning my sexuality, the most intimate and private parts of my body—that sent me other the edge.

The tremors started in my extremities but traveled rapidly to my core. With each intrusion, each push, the intensity of sensations built to a crescendo of ecstasy, until all that pressure released in a sweet explosion. Waves of bliss spilled over me, flowing in a seemingly endless river of pleasure, complete with its ebbs and flows.

“That’s right. I own that sweet cunt of yours.” Then he groaned, his voice strangled, desire morphing into satisfaction, and I could hear his own release. I pictured him, fist encircled around his cock, his pearly, viscous offering spewing into the air, flying across the room and landing on the carpet, perhaps some on his leg. I imagined catching it on my body, maybe on my tongue, tasting him.

“Will you come in my mouth, sir?” I asked, surprised at my brazenness.

“Is that what you want?” he snarled.

“Yes, sir. To taste you. Swallow your cum.”

“You’ve been a good girl. I think you’ve earned my cum. Be sure to lick me clean, you little whore.”

His words lit me on fire, and I climaxed again. “Yes, sir,” I breathed, my voice coming out barely more than a whisper. My muscles contorted again and I rode out another body-shaking release. Without thinking, I blurted out, “Thank you, sir.”

“You’re welcome, Sophie.”

We were silent for several moments, recovering. My heart rate began to slow, part of me amazed at what I’d just done, and part of me wishing the man on the other end of the computer was lying next to me.

He spoke first. “How did you like your first session?”

“It was great. I liked it.” I wanted to ask him in turn if he’d liked it, but it seemed stupid. After all, he’d led me through the scene, and what if he hadn’t liked it? What if I was a disappointment to him? If that was the case, I didn’t want to know. My ego couldn’t take it.

“Good. You did a good job.”

“Thanks, sir.”

“Do you have any questions for me?”

At that moment, he seemed approachable, more available to me, softer than he usually felt. This would be a perfect time to ask those questions, but I couldn’t think of any. My brain had turned into a bowl of mush. About all I was capable of at that point was basking in the afterglow of the delightfully naughty tryst we’d just had. “No, but that was fun.” I giggled, nervous admitting how much I’d enjoyed the kinky gauntlet he’d just put me through.

“Good. Our sessions will only get better from here… as I get to know you better.”

I stretched my limbs languorously in feline fashion. “That sounds good.”

“All right. Tomorrow I will find you online after you’ve had a chance to process everything, and we will have a debriefing of sorts.”

“Oh.”

“It’s important to your growth that we discuss your thoughts and reactions to our play time.”