Ibis - Leviathan Laroche (love letters to the dead .txt) 📗

me even better than he ever has.

I started typing.

This is a bit embarrassing to admit. But when I get wet, I'm only allowed to clean myself with my fingers and my mouth. Which usually just makes me all the wetter. Which is kind of self-defeating, don't you think? 

He chuckled when he made that rule. He knows me so well.

I have slut fantasies. Fantasies where I'm taken unwillingly and fucked till I love it. Who am I kidding? I love being fucked. And I mean completely fucked. Sweaty and sore. All holes. I am not too keen about anal, but I like it after the initial shock and pain. I don't look forward to that feeling. It makes my tummy tumble. But after that, I do love it. I feel so slutty too. Naughty. Dirty. Delicious.

I loveeee sucking too. Especially big ones. Though not all my fantasy men have enormous cocks. A couple of my girlfriends really envy me! But I don't know why. I mean, if he were a bit smaller, it would be a lot easier! A cock is a cock, right? I can't imagine a tiny one being much fun though. Is it wrong to genuinely feel a bit sorry for those guys? 

I just think sucking is so yummy though. I can see his face and actually know whether I'm being pleasing. I mean, it's gotta be pretty hard to fake! Right girls? I also spend a fair bit of time on my knees too. Oh! I don't mean like that! Let me explain!

Johan is my husband and lover, but he is also my Master. I like being able to kneel at his feet. So I have three really big cushions in various places around the house. With time, one really does get used to kneeling a fair bit. As long as one's joints and back are okay I mean. I guess I also feel sorry for the subbies who can't do that. I love looking up at him from down there. I love seeing the look in his eyes.

I love knowing a man's cock is hard because he is excited about fucking me. It's basic and animal. It affects me deeply. It makes me horny and I like being horny. I mean, I'm no "spread my legs at the drop of a hat" type slut. God, the men at the supermarket, or the women for that matter, would have a fit. No, I am very straight-faced and can conceal my horniness well.

I mean, God. I've never done 'anything' really wild. I've never slept with anyone but Johan. I'm just a regular girl, who went through college, and had normal type young girl fantasies and stuff. Save myself for marriage, etc. Not strongly, I just hadn't met anyone who I really wanted to do it with. 

When a friend mentioned erotic literature and a website one day, I had a look and was hooked. I read and read and fantasised and wished Johan would just take me. I mean we were going together and everything, and I was thinking, god he's such a hunk. I wonder if I should let him fuck me? I masturbated endlessly wondering what it would be like. But I could never throw myself at him. I'd probably even resist. God, then a thought occurred and a feeling went through me that I never got over.

What if he forced himself on me?

Now let me make something perfectly clear. He would not have been raping me. 'That' thought was not what I was thinking about. The idea of being ACTUALLY raped is not what I'm talking about. 

What made me tremble with carnal lust was the idea of being forced, when I WANTED it. 

Because I did want it, and I recognise that now. To be honest, I recognised it then too. I recognised it as he pushed his big cock into my virgin pussy and I came as the pain hit me. I bucked back at him and screamed. I breathlessly told him to fuck me harder. He split me open and I cried with ecstasy. 

I became a slut almost overnight. Not a slut for any guy. Just for my guy. I discovered the joy I felt in giving pleasure almost immediately. Johan had me kneel in front of him and we spent a whole day practicing and talking about sucking cock.

Mmmmm. It took a heartbeat to realise I had a lot of power when on my knees. Listening to him moan at my various touches made me cream. I absolutely loved it. I wanted to suck him all the time, and I was 'always' disappointed when I didn't get the opportunity. 

I realise now I was becoming demanding. 

"High maintenance." 

I knew I had a high sex drive. I read about it. It was normal for a young female to have strong desires when first introduced to sex. Much like males. But apparently more so, given the fact that my first experience was good. That can be crucial, so I've read.

All I knew was I found myself thinking about having sex with Johan all the time. In school, after school, at dinner, when out with friends, sailing, skiing, anything, anywhere, anytime. 

It got to the point where I started to beg him. 

Yeah, yeah, I know. How demeaning. But honestly, I didn't think about it that way. 

I just wanted my fix.

"C'mon baby, don't you wanna fuck me?"

God, I was such a slut. 

"No? Awww. Then can I suck you? Would that be okay? Please?"

Conversely, he actually 'was' pleased. I mean, what big-cocked, hot blooded, Scandinavian guy wouldn't be? He was making his own personal slut. Who wouldn't be pleased? 

I had all the necessary assets. I had the body. I still do. I had the open, accepting mind. I had the enthusiasm and the strong desire to please. And I had a man who satisfied me wildly beyond my frantic masturbatory imaginings. 

After outrageous sex one afternoon, we were kissing and cuddling and talking, as we always do.

"I'll marry you one day..."

I rolled over, onto my tummy, looking down on him.

He was lying on his back, breathing heavily.

"You will, huh?" I smiled widely.

"If you'll have me," he winked.

"I'd have you. I'm not an idiot."

"What about now, then?"

"What?"

My tummy tumbled.

"Will you marry me?"

"Are you asking?" 

Duh. Okay, so I was looking for time.

He nailed me. He always does.

"Shannon. Don't hedge me, baby. You know you're mine. You always have been. And you always will be. I can't see any reason not to."

I reached up and caressed his face.

"Nor can I. Of course I'll marry you, baby."

I settled down a little and found myself some interests.

At nineteen, I was still so reliant on Johan. As his star rose, I wanted to feel like a success too. Marriage to a twenty-eight year old business executive was fun and sometimes exciting, but I wanted something I could call my own.

So I took some college courses. I had designs on becoming a graphic artist. I actually did quite well at school. It was hard getting a job, though. And Johan was no help.

"Why do you want to work, there's no need!"

But I needed to feel useful.

So while Johan worked his fingers to the proverbial bone, I went to school and boy, was that fun. I enjoyed all the looks I got, walking around the campus in my short skirts and halter necks. I fended off dozens of advances from guys during those years and actually got into one jam with a guy who pinned me against the wall in the college bar one evening. 

God, it made me so wet, but thanks to a friend, I squirmed out of his embrace and fled home into the arms of my husband who kindly fucked my ass off.

I was so nervous. He'd warned me so many times about wearing the clothes I liked to wear.

"One day you are gonna get attacked wearing stuff like that."

"Don't be so old-fashioned."

"Well, don't say I didn't warn you."

I wish I had a dollar for every time he said something like that.

So when I returned that night, he had no sympathy.

"You stupid slut. He probably thought you were begging for it."

"But I wasn't though," I complained. "I didn't say anything. He just grabbed me and pushed me against the wall and started feeling me up."

"Hey, I've warned you a hundred times, if you dress like a tart, you'll be treated like one."

"That's not fair. I like my clothes."

"You probably loved it anyway."

"I did not!"

"Bullshit. Show me your cunt."

"Noooo!"

"Now!"

"Oh, it's not fair. YOU make me wet. Not this. Not being felt up by a complete stranger!"

"I don't believe you. Show me your cunt, NOW!"

"Ohhhhh..."

I remember picking up the hem of my short skirt and there for my Johan to see, was a big patch of wetness in the gusset of my panties.

 

"See? You loved it."

Well of course I did. But I couldn't admit it to him, no matter how submissive I was. Good girls aren't supposed to like that kind of thing. I always thought I was good, as long as I was pleasing my man. I fantasised about a lot of things, sure. But I never dreamed of actually doing anything about them.

"No, I love you!"

Yeah, I know, I'm not supposed to lie. Honesty is the basis of a correct D/s relationship. I've heard it a million times before. But a girl's gotta have 'some' secrets, right? They were just fantasies, and I didn't want to hurt my Johan.

Or my marriage.

I mean, what would happen if I told him the truth? What would happen if I told him I fantasised about being fucked by a gang in an alley? Or treated like a slut by a girl and forced to go down on her and her friends? God! He might disown me! He might think I'd gone too far, that I really wanted something like that to happen!

Ugh! I couldn't tell him the truth! I couldn't tell him my nipples got hard as soon as that guy in the bar pressed his body against me. I couldn't tell him I practically went weak at the knees as he put his hand up my skirt and caressed the inside of my thigh. It was indecent! I was so thankful Suzie, one of my friends from class, was with me.

"Get off her, you baboon!"

She punched him hard in the shoulder and I wriggled free.

I was slack-jawed, unable to comprehend why I didn't do anything to stop him. I was like a deer in headlights.

Fortunately it all happened so fast, Suzie hadn't noticed. 

I felt embarrassed. 

I felt humiliated. 

I felt guilty.

And I felt wet.

Which Johan decided to check. 

Right there in the kitchen.

He said I was a slut, and sluts should be punished. So he took the wooden spoon from the drawer and spanked my ass about fifty times!

He made me admit I was a slut (which I was! for him!), and he spanked me till my ass glowed and I was moaning from the red-hot pain and the humiliation of being spanked over the kitchen bench.

God, it was breathtaking!

When he was done, he fucked me right up my sore and sorry ass. And he was rough. I go nuts when he's rough. He just pushed me back down when I thought he was done and then pushed two fingers up my pussy, then straight up my ass. God! If my ass wasn't so sore, and I wasn't so exhausted, I would have screamed for mercy. But by this time I was a mess. I just wanted to be fucked.

And so I was. He cornholed my poor little ass till I screamed in ecstasy. Did I tell you I love it up the ass after that initial penetration has settled down? Well, he never gave me the chance to get accustomed. He just jammed himself up my ass and started hammering away. It knocked the wind out of me and I couldn't even think, let alone scream!

Then he started spanking my already tortured ass and I forgot about the pain from his cock real