Kneeling before Him...



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Thursday, December 30, 2004

Mac came home two days before Christmas. We fought, which was inevitable really considering the way I had been feeling. It was not a long drawn out fight, nor was it a violent expression of anger, more a discussion of different views. Mac had become increasingly frustrated with my lack of understanding of how busy He was. I had become more and more demanding as He became less giving and it became a self-fulfilling cycle.

My major gripe was that had Mac said to me that He needed a few days to get the job done so that He could come home to me, I would have been more understanding than I was. He had kept telling me that He would call back, that He would find time later, that He would talk to me soon and then not had the time. I took this as a rejection of me personally instead of it just being too busy. He thought it would help me if I knew He was planning to get back to me even if He was not able to make it. He realised that He had made a mistake and He apologised. He was sincere. All the pent up anger and frustration that I felt suddenly had no place to go. I couldn't take it out on Him, not even passive-aggressively, He had not meant for me to get hurt and He was sorry that He had contributed to it. He had only meant to help me.

I told Him I needed a bath. What I really meant was I needed time alone to think. Mac is perfectly aware that I often just need some quiet thinking time to come to terms or work through whatever it is that is going on inside of me. He just smiled at me and let me go do things my way.

In the bath I cried. I cried for a good long time. I cried about being left alone, about having to be strong while He was away. I cried about how much it bothered me when He didn't call and how terse He had been on the times I had gotten hold of Him. I cried because of the uncertainty and the fear I had felt, the rejection I thought I heard in His voice. I cried because He was back and I was scared at what would happen next. I cried until I had finished all the crying I could do then I dragged myself out of the bath. I washed my face and brushed my teeth and scrubbed myself until I was spotlessly clean. I rubbed a barely scented moisturiser all over my body making me softly shiny and I ran my fingers through my damp curls to encourage them into sit quietly on my shoulders. And when I was ready to face Him, all shields up, looking haughtily sexy, untouchable, unreachable, in control of the world of my emotions, I went looking for Him.

It didn't take long to find Him. He was standing in the bedroom, naked, surveying the world out of the window like He owned it all. I could see His reflection against the darkness. He stood arrogantly, His fingers entwined behind His head, stretching His arms out and displaying His chest. He looked quite delicious. I had meant to say something witty, but all I could do was stare. He saw me in the window and turned to look at me, equally naked but that was all that was equal between us. I suddenly felt small and soft in all the places He looked so big and hard. I couldn't help it. He hadn't even said a word yet and I could feel my defences slipping away. I can't fight Him. I can't fight what I feel and I was too tired to even try.

'Sarah,' He whispered softly. 'You are so beautiful.'

My breath caught in my throat and for one terrible moment, I thought I was going to cry again, but then Mac was in front of me and His hand was cupping my cheek and all I could think of was being on my knees. I slipped onto them. Mac didn't try and stop me, accepting that it was something I needed to do. When I bowed my head, He tipped it up again so that I had no choice but to look at Him. I tilted my head back further and opened my mouth and rested my tongue against my lower lip. It was all the invitation Mac needed. He placed the head of His cock on my tongue and jerked it onto me.

For the briefest of moments I wondered what it was He was seeing in me. Here was a girl, His girl, the one He loves on her knees looking up at Him with patient desperation for His orgasm. Did He see the adoration? Did He see the love? Did he see the desire that I have for His pleasure? Did He see the need? Did He know that my heart was beating somewhere near the top of my throat so that I almost choked on it with lust? I wanted to tell Him I was feeling all these things. I wanted to say it, but His cock was in complete possession of my tongue and all I could do was look up at Him and please Him in the ways I know He loves.

It took only moments before His semen was spurting across my face and into my mouth. He had been gone for two weeks. I was surprised He held out as long as He had. He pulled me from the floor and He kissed me, deep probing kisses with forceful tongue and I melted in His arms. He licked His semen from my face and pushed me back onto the bed, positioning Himself between my legs. He used His tongue and His teeth, His lips and His fingers to make me come time and time again. I didn't try and hold back. It had been two weeks for me too.

He didn't stop until I was a shuddering shaking whimpering mess and until His cock was hard and ready to come again. He climbed over me and I wrapped my legs around Him in anticipation of having Him inside me. I felt His cock press against my opening and I knew I couldn't take Him. He was too big, it had been too long, I would never stretch to His size. It was going to hurt. I held onto Him tighter and when He forced His way into me I cried out from being opened so widely this way. Mac's fingers dug into my sides in surprise.

'Christ Sarah.' He gasped. 'Fuck that feels so good.'
'Deeper,' I whispered. 'Fuck me deeper and harder.'

I twisted my fingers into His hair and dragged His mouth to mine and I kissed Him the way He loves to be kissed. I existed just for Him. I was only there to make Him come. That was all I wanted. It was my one goal in life. I needed to make Him come or I would cease to exist. I needed it that badly, that desperately. I needed it straight away. I did everything I could to make it happen as fast as it could. Mac didn't try and hold back. He quickly filled me with His semen again, emptying Himself into me. His pleasure made my hands shake.

I held onto Him, unwilling to let Him go. I was suddenly frightened again. If I let Him go, how long would it be before I held onto Him again? How long was He back for? How much of myself could I give to Him when I knew He would go away again? Mac will never stop leaving me. It is a part of His life. It is His job. It frustrates Him, tires Him and pushes Him harder than He has ever been pushed by anything before. It challenges Him in new and different ways. He hates it. He loves it. I can't see Him living without this level of commitment to it. He could never work a boring nine to five job. He needs this. I don't think He even realises how much He needs it.

But I need Him here, at least in spirit if not in body. I need to be owned, not only when it is convenient to Him but all the time. It is a huge commitment to ask of someone, I know. I have never asked it lightly, He has never accepted it lightly. He told me that He understood fully what I was offering when I gave myself to Him. When He owns me, when I feel owned, I feel safe and secure. I do not cling to Him the way I had been doing. I do not scream for His attention. I can stand quite happily and contentedly on my own two feet when I still feel His presence. When I am sure of His love, when I am sure of who I am to Him, I am able to give so much more of myself to the people I love. I am able to achieve more. I am happier. I am more content. I am more confident. The tighter I am held, the more capable I become. I only fall to pieces when I cannot feel Him as a part of me anymore. I tried to tell Him, but He couldn't get past the whine in my voice and I couldn't get the words to come out right.

We slept.

When we woke on Christmas Eve I tried again, this time quietly and with love and affection instead of fright and anger. Mac heard where I was going before I had finished finding the right words. He lifted my hair from my neck and marked me with a suck/bite bruise. I wore my hair down on Christmas day.

Each day since has been about Sarah belonging to Mac. It has been full of lust and love. It has been full of dominance and submission. It has been about control. I cannot move without being reminded I am His. I cannot pass a mirror without seeing His marks on me. My sex is not my own anymore, it is for His enjoyment, His amusement and pleasure. If I leak it is from His use of me. If I wince it is because He wants me to. If I tremble it is because He intended it to be that way. He does not ask what it is I want or need, but takes whatever it is He feels like taking. He uses me to please Himself, knowing that I could not be filled any other way. I am Mac's Sarah and I cannot fight this. If He decides to take it away again at some point in the future, I will fall to pieces again. I don't think it will happen for a long time. This morning while I lay in His arms, my nipples aching from His rough kisses, my pussy hot from His semen, He told me this is who we are and He welcomed me home.

I hadn't realised that He had missed us too.

God it is good to be back.

Posted by Sarah McBroden at 7:20 am

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