House Afire

Will you save me, Mr. Fireman? Can you save me from myself? From the thoughts running around in my head, like hamsters on a wheel in a cage?

Make me your slut. Pull me and push me, shape me and mold me to be your whore. When I hear your voice, I react with wetness, slowness, an inability to focus. I whisper to you, unable to speak clearly from the place I now inhabit. Your place. Your space where my will is yours.

Up against the wall, your body pressed hard against my back, your hands moving over me, slowly and quickly, finding the places they long to rest. Pull my shirt up over my breasts. Grab a nipple and with slow, progressive, savage pressure, sink me into your lair. Where you know I'm yours, unequivocally.

I'm on my knees for you, before you. Your hand grips my hair, a big handful tight and sharp pulls me closer to you. Pressed against my lips, your damp cockhead pushes into where it belongs. My mouth, my throat, I gag as you push in and out of me, looking down at me growling, smiling as I struggle to please you, and breathe.

Discipline me. Punish me for transgressions great and small. Or because you know it will keep me where you want me. Dripping and compliant. Your strong hand on my ass, pelting me into obedience.

In the finally without end, behind me, not gently, you fill me and fill me and satiate my hunger for you. I have begged for you. Please, let my cunt gorge on you. Push my walls to their needy limit. There is no overdose, there's never too much even as I scream and shudder and my body tenses and relaxes into the pleasure that surrounds your cock and pulls from it your last thrust and quake as you spill your passion into me, and into me, and into me.

Will you save me, Mr. Fireman? Can you carry me down from my burning desires? Rescue me from my need for you to have me, save me, own me.