It’s been too long.

Yes. It has.

I’ve been thinking about you.

Is that right?

Yes. Right thoughts, wrong thoughts. Filthy, depraved thoughts.

I never would have guessed.

I know I’m a bad man for neglecting you, darling. Do you think you could ever forgive me?

I might be able to forgive you. “Might” being the operative word, there.

I’ve been reading your words.

You’re forgiven.

And looking at your photos.

Now, you’re definitely forgiven.

In the name of research, of course.

“Research.” Of course.

They are…  You are… You still are…

What?

Delectable. Exquisite.

I am?

You always have been. To me.

Oh.

I have a confession to make.

You don’t like the photographs after all.

I’ve been stroking my cock to them.

Oh god.

Oh yes, darling. I’ve been a dirty voyeur reading your words, looking at your body. I look at you while I stroke myself, taking my stiff cock to a hard, leaking missile, thinking about all of the things I want to do to you, thinking about the other men that might be getting off on you.

Fuck.

You’ve had that effect on me from the very beginning. You know that.

I wasn’t so sure there for a while.

I bet there are quite a few of them out there jerking off to you.

You like that idea, don’t you?

Yes.

You always have.

Yes, yes.

My lips, my mouth, my pussy, my tight little hole being taken and possessed by other men and used for their pleasure.

Oh. Fuck. Yes.

And their mouths and hands and cocks taking pleasure, giving pleasure, giving me pleasure, more pleasure than I’ve ever known, more pleasure than I can physically bear, more pleasure than…

Say it. I want you to say it. I need you to say it.

More pleasure… More pleasure that you can possibly ever give me on your own.

Fuck, fuck.

It turns you on even as it makes you a little crazy, doesn’t it, baby?

Oh fuck, yes. I’ve been thinking about you, thinking about this so much lately. I can’t get it, and you, out of my head. And those other men that want to fuck you. I get so hard knowing there are other men that want to fuck you just as much as I want to fuck you, as urgently, as savagely, as completely as I want to take you, fuck you, use you, mark your fair, pretty skin.

Actually, there are a few contenders.

There’s my little slut. Will you tell me about them?

There are five men, five very different men with radically different bodies and personalities and sexual desires. Five men that make me thump, that make me wet, that make me want sweet things, dirty things, downright debased things. Five men I want so intensely I fuck myself softly, brutally, passionately. Thinking of them, fantasizing about them leads my hands to my cunt no matter where I am or what I’m doing. It leads one, then two, then three fingers into my dripping slit, it leads my thumb to my needy, swollen nub, it leads my hands to my hot aching flesh, to my breasts, to my hard rosy peaks.

And this insatiable hunger and need will lead me to them. To all of them.

Oh, fuck. Fuck. You made me shudder. You’re making me shudder. My hands are shaking.

I’m so glad, baby. I like making you shake. It excites me like you wouldn’t believe knowing I have that effect on you. I’m dripping wet knowing my greedy appetite has that effect on you.

It does. You do. My throbbing cock and the precum smeared all over my stomach proves you do. 

Oh, that’s quite the delicious picture, lover. And you’re quite the exceptional man. Trembling, leaking, salivating, feeding off my perversity, off my need for men in their multiplicity. Off my need for you to be my filthy little voyeur.

Oh, I do. I do. With you, I do. I’m hard in an instant thinking of them taking you, spreading you open, filling every hole, roughly pounding your cunt, your ass, your mouth and throat, painting your petite body in rivers of their cream, you moaning and screaming from the extremity of a pleasure you have lusted after for so long.

I’m hard now imagining… oh fuck… picturing a big, thick shiny dick sliding out of your well-fucked cunt, come slowly oozing, dripping, coating your inner thighs and your ass as he straddles your face and your lips and tongue lick him clean. 

You’re such a dirty slut.

Yes, I am.

I like having you as my slut.

Oh fuck.

You like being my slut, don’t you?

Yes.

I can’t hear you, slut.

Yes, yes, yes.

That’s better. Shall I tell you, then, what I have in store for you, my slut, my whore, my beautiful little fucktoy?

Oh. Fuck. Yes. Please.

I like hearing you beg.

Oh fuck. Please, please.

I can’t quite hear you, slut.

Please. Please. Please.

That’s much better.

I’ve decided I want you there for the first of them. To see me with the one man I want the very most. The one who makes me throb and pulse and thump at the sheer thought of his hands, his mouth, his cock, his overpowering body. The one who sets off my starvation with the sound of his deep voice. The one who sets my cunt salivating with a single piercing look. The one who will eat me and fuck me and take me as no other has ever done before.

Oh god.

And all the while you’ll be tied to the chair by the bed, your painfully erect, uncut man-meat leaking delicious nectar onto your beautiful caramel skin, begging for touch, for my touch, begging for my mouth, my lips, my cunt, my hole as you watch him use and control me.

As you watch him make me his dirty little slut.

Oh, god. Fuck. No. Yes. Yes.

Yes, my darling, you will be there to witness it all. To witness the possession and domination of a body you know so well. To witness another man’s voracious cunt love being sated by me and me alone. To witness his lips and tongue devouring my clit, my kitty, my arse. To witness his hard cock filling me to the brim, his rock ramming, pounding, fucking my pussy, his hands searing my skin, grabbing at my flesh. To witness his thick, pink flesh penetrating the tight little hole I’ve only ever wanted possessed by you until now. To witness this big, strong hulk of a man smearing his face, his chest, his cock, every inch of his skin with my flowing juices, branding himself as my new lover.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

And once he’s done, once my spent, fucked, stretched, marked body has been his, after he is done making me his slut, I’ll proceed to make you mine.

Oh god. Oh god. Yes. Yes.

I’ll proceed to wreak my revenge on your body, a tender and brutal revenge I know you crave more than anything else.

Oh, fuck. I do. I do. I don’t know why but I do.

I care not why you do, my darling slut. I merely care to give you what you need and desire most.

Oh, fuck.

I know, I know. The dance is on, lover. Yet again.

It’s been too long.

Yes. It has.

He makes slaves of us all.

With his hands, with his voice, with the mouth that worships pussy. With the striking words that leave us shivering, wet, dizzy. With the hard, searing cock that fills, opens and possesses with its volatile bliss.

You are my hungry want incarnate
My need made flesh and blood
My carnality made juices, sweat and come

When my eyes sweep down along you
Imposing, muscular and strong
I see a man aching to release, submit, surrender

Intoxicating at close distance
Your scent a heady, lethal mix
Compels mind and body to thoughts primal and impure

Take, possess, command you
My slut, my toy, my whore
I will use you and exploit you for my pleasure

Strap you roughly, bind you crudely
To the base of the platinum bed
My body looming in tall spikes of shiny leather

Body splayed wide open
I will tease and taunt and feel
The arousal as it screams up from your core

Spend and mark and bruise you
My own cunt slave you will be
Here and now and forever more

Looming large over his pliant little toy, he contemplates her fate, relishing the dominance that has torn its way through his skin like a ravenous animal, instantaneously taking his stiff ready cock to dripping and diamond-hard.

Captivated by her wanton display, her chest rising and falling with each sharp intake of the thick, pungent air filling the room, the damp black silk between her splayed thighs somehow glistening in the low light, he struggles with the intense need to touch her fair skin and mark it as his own, to maul and paw and finger her to a loud, thunderous height, sinking the digits slippery with womanly nectar into her mouth to suckle and cleanse, joined shortly after by his throbbing rigid shaft.

For the moment, he resists giving in to her. And himself. Leaning in, he inhales the scent of his prey, nose hovering over the line from neck to collarbone to shoulder, his flesh at an almost painful remove from her own. In a voice hoarse with barely contained desire, he outlines precisely how he will make her wait, the craving to see her long and hunger and beg even greater than his own immediate carnality.

Kneeling between her legs and roughly shredding the flimsy fabric concealing her modesty, he tells her this delayed gratification will force her to confront her own darkness, the unspeakable acts she has only ever contemplated alone in the shadows, the insatiable vampiric lust for the meat of men in all its variety, the unrelenting, cunt clenching necessity to both possess and submit.

And as he moves up along her sex, branding his own body with the liquid heat of her passion, he knows, without doubt, this night will ultimately compel her to honour the alluring woman at the heart of this sexual multiplicity.

(Remember to knock on Osbasso’s door to see this week’s gorgeous players…)

His voice, initially thick, hoarse and grainy with pent-up desire, transformed itself in that glorious moment of release as I murmured in dirty detail just how my newly well-fucked cunt full of another man’s seed would forcefully take him, would insist on being cleaned by his lips and tongue, would slide itself to the hilt onto his raging cock, would envelop him in soft, velvety wetness, would urgently ride the piece that completed my puzzle, would milk right out of him the come that truly belonged inside me.

Standing almost motionless before him, lightning white desire radiates from her body, bleaching the lilac walls, cloaking the fair form and mind in the deepest of shadows. The base thoughts prickling her skin, hardening her nipples, soaking her sex, circulate around his possession, around seizing and controlling him in his entirety.

Riveted half naked to the edge of the bed, his untouched cock rigid in its denim prison, strong hands gripping the sheets, he sinks into the whispered words of her carnal need to feed off him and suck him dry, wear him down and break him open, bring his smouldering passion to an uncontrollable burn.

Claiming all she requires with no thought for his ruin, his spent, cunt smeared body will be, in the end, proof of her ownership.

(Remember to knock on Osbasso’s door to see this week’s gorgeous players…)

On this night, the ties that bind are makeshift, fashioned from a narrow black patent leather belt worn by her earlier in the day. In no mood for trifling, he crudely straps her slender wrists together hoping for immediate signs of his force on her creamy skin as he positions her against the wall.

She is just as he wants her, just as he wants to gaze upon her while considering the infinite possibilities of her defilement. Scratching the muscular abdomen through the gap in his shirt, he moves up close to begin staking his territory, his touch shifting from unnervingly light to achingly fierce – the tips of fingers skimming her silky inner thighs; his stubbled chin scrapping along curves and swells; the full-lipped mouth kissing and licking; sharp teeth biting and marking; his deep, deliberate breaths consuming, guzzling, savouring the sweet, spicy essence of his willing victim.

Standing, trembling, her body is now a vessel of pure sensation, his darkness and light washing over her, sinking in and overtaking, ears filled with the rapid thud of her heartbeat, eyes blinded by the white hot beam of her lust. And while she is at his mercy, she knows submission affords its own unique power, tearing at the limits of her pleasure and her pain, at the boundaries surrounding her ordering mind.

She knows this in her very depths just as she is certain of the dilated pupils of his chocolate eyes, the fine mist covering his torso, the precum seeping from his thick hard uncut meat, fusing his desperately throbbing cock to his boxers. In the end, she knows the power it also holds over him, she also holds over him. And as he twines his fingers through her hair, leading her roughly to the bedroom, bound and possessed, she knows her acquiescence sets them both free.

(Remember to knock on Osbasso’s door to see this week’s gorgeous players…)

You will do as I say. You will do as I want. You have no other choice. And you know it.

I do know it. I know I have no other choice than to obey you. You, your voice, your body, your face, your ability to see me, see right through me, impels my body and mind to follow without question or reason. It leads me instinctively to you. It breaks me open, it strips me bare, destroys every vestige of my shame and inhibition.

I know.

I don’t know how this has happened so quickly. I don’t know how you can know me in this way. How do you do that? How can you know these things about me? How? How? How can you see and feel and know the very things I can scarcely admit to myself?

I already hate you a little for that.

I know you do. I know. I like that you hate me. I love that I do that to you, see right into you, see and recognise the depraved things you want for yourself, from yourself, from me, from others.

You see me, see into me, in the same way. As I see myself in you, you see yourself in me. I see the things you’ve never allowed any of the others to see.

Please, stop.

You know I can’t do that. It’s too late to go back. There’s no way back, not now. This you know.

Yes. I do.

Besides, you don’t want that. You like being my slut, don’t you?

Yes.

You love being my slut, don’t you?

Yes.

I can’t hear you, slut.

Yes. Yes. Yes. I love being your slut.

Tell me then, my sweet little slut, tell me what you imagine when you’re ravenous and desperate, when the ache crawls under your skin, when your cunt drips from its starvation.

I think about you. I think about excess. In those moments, I crave excess.

Of what variety?

Men. Many men. A roomful of men. Just for me. All for me. All there for my pleasure alone. Giving, taking, feasting, gorging.

I love how insatiable you really are under the nice girl façade.

I figured as much. I somehow knew you’d like that contradiction.

So, where am I?

You’re sitting in the corner of the room, my beautiful voyeur lurking in the shadows, as I am pleasured by a roomful of men.

That’s exactly where I want to be.

I imagine you stroking your hard, thick slippery cock as you watch these men taking me, fucking me, plundering me, giving me more pleasure than I can stand.

I think about my legs being parted by large, strong hands, a foreign mouth kissing my plump, glistening folds, licking and slurping and drinking my juices, his lips and tongue on my needy clit, my hips bucking, my body writhing. As I’m coming, loudly moaning and whimpering, another approaches and takes hold of my face opening my mouth, my lips and tongue skidding across his swollen head, licking greedily at the sheen before he slides his erection into my hot little mouth, fucking me slowly, steadily, then a little roughly, just as you like it.

Fuck.

Would you like that? Would you like that, baby? Would you like to see your slut being eaten by a big, strong man while another fucks her pretty little mouth?

Yes, I would. You know I would. You know I would relish watching your pleasure even in the face of my own jealousy, don’t you?

I do, baby. I do.

I also know when I come, you would like me to look you squarely in the eye, seeing the way that jealousy makes your uncut meat diamond-hard and slippery wet, your pleasure meeting your pain. Your handsome face would register another man’s invasion, my sodden cunt impaling itself on him to the hilt, filling me to the brim, my hips grinding and swivelling, small circles at first, then larger thrashing loops, our pelvic bones crashing, my fingers digging into his hairy chest, his force blushing the fair skin of my body.

Yes. Yes.

Rising from your chair, you walk over to me as yet another moves up behind me, nibbling from the base of my spine to my neck, languidly tasting, our lips and tongues at last consuming, his hands moving around to tease my small, pert breasts, hard and rosy nipples, his angry purple glans nudging my tight hole, hands moving down to part my cheeks wide as he takes the part of me that has only ever been owned by you.

Oh, fuck. No. Yes.

I think about you standing over me, joined by others, watching and stroking their cocks, using my mouth and my hands to jerk their hard-ons, using my body as a canvas for their newly spent hot seed. Hands rubbing and massaging the rivers of spunk, cream on cream, coating my slight body with the essence of these men, the essence of man.

This is just as I’ve pictured you, wantonly laid out for ready consumption and debasement. At my hand, at the hands of others.

You’re such a filthy little slut.

Yes, I am.

What happens when they’re done, when they’ve used you up?

You know what happens.

Tell me. Say it. I want to hear it. I need to hear it. Tell me what happens when your pleasure has been satisfied.

My pleasure is never truly satisfied. Until I have you.

Until I am reclaimed by you.

Until you take me back as your own.

Until you possess me as these men bear witness.

Until your naked body is intertwined with mine.

Until your jealous passion is released onto me, into me, into my mouth, into my cunt.

Until you fuck their seed out of me, until you lick away all trace, until you bathe me in your scent and sweat and saliva and come, until you immerse yourself in mine.

Until we ride the waves of pleasure together, until the marks on my skin are yours and yours alone.

Until we spend each other dry, use each other up, until nothing remains for another.

My slut. My beautiful little slut.

Always.

She has read his words several times over in a vain attempt to regain her breath, her composure, her sense of this time and place and the intensity suddenly spiralling wildly through her body.

Unfolding before her, they paint a vivid picture of his emerging desire and hardening flesh as well as the craving to plunder her mouth, cunt and the very essence of her desiring force.

She recognises his carnal drives, and the shadows in which they often seem to lurk, in an instant. In them she sees her own, rising up, taking over her rational mind and needy form as his cock and beautiful face and body become the centre of her own sexual imaginings.

But there is something more in him, something that already sets him apart, something he encapsulates in a short string of simple words. These words, innocent and benign in their own right, have been placed together by him in a way that tears open her sexual soul.

The thoughts and feelings that assail his mind in the dead of night and the obscenely early hours of the morning as he strokes himself, smearing the precum dripping from his swollen head, circulate around her. Her wants, her needs, her obsessions. And the very things she hasn’t experienced but will one day grow to love, will one day be unable to live without. The very things he can give her, take from her, as master, as slave, as man, as lover.

And because no one has ever dared express a yearning to know her in such an intimate and yet primal way, to delve into the depths of her darkness and her light, she undresses in front of the screen, her naked form illuminated by the artificial glow, and begins her exploration with his words as her witness.

Unconsciously he leans in, his hand reaching for her supple available flesh. She stops in her tracks, eyebrow arched, surprised and a little delighted for the opportunity to reprimand. Mind and body once again united, he resumes the position. She rewards her obedient filthy man with a small sly smile and a long, deep cock kiss.