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The Man at Langley Manor

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The identity of the man who purchased the mansion on the hill that rose above any landmarks for a mile around was a mystery to every resident of Langley Street, the street that led motorists and pedestrians alike to the private estate and the foot of its sweeping front drive. As much as rumor could provide, the new owner was a young man in his early twenties, obviously a man who had recently come into good fortune, either by his own merit or by luck.

He had settled into the massive house a month before summer started, but had yet to be seen interacting with the community outside his walls. He kept himself locked away in the ornate building, and food and groceries were delivered to him by truck. Even those deliverymen, when stopped and queried by nosy neighbors, had nothing to say of the man. They dropped packages on his front step and, as directed, drove off before he would pick them up. Not a soul had seen or heard a breath from this new tenant of Langley Manor.

Sarah Johnson, a courageous and headstrong woman of barely eighteen years was overcome by curiosity about the man. Mysteries were few and far between in her vaguely backwater town, a city where the only mysteries were weather and the occasional petty crime. And yet here, in her own backyard, was a man who had moved into Langley Street with a considerable sum of money, and who hadn’t left the building since. Word spread of the man in Langley Manor, and soon he became idle talk and speculation at her school. Boys joked that he was a murderer or a drug dealer, and girls joked equally harmlessly that he was a pimp who moved into town to legitimize his “work.” Naturally, neither was right, but jokes and supposed tales and forged sightings of the man from Langley Manor flew thick in the air as a means of curing the tedium small cities breed.

Sarah grew bold. When she finally left school for summer, overheating in near hundred-degree weather, she decided to dedicate her summer to finding out more about the man. Technically, they were next-door neighbors, although his door had to be reached by three hundred meters of paved, private road that stretched up a steep hill. Still, she was determined.

In early June, Sarah stepped out of her modest house, her toes curling slightly to dig into the soft, green grass. The bright summer sun made her orange hair glow, her fiery hair contrasting strongly with her pale body. She kept herself very healthy; she was a runner and looked the part and then some. Her toughened feet, rooted in her lawn, connected to strong calves and even stronger thighs, smooth, pale skin joining them all seamlessly as if she were carved from stone. Her ass was even stronger, perfectly shaped, soft enough to slap and squeeze, and hard enough to grab roughly. Her upper body too was perfect; her breasts strained against her bra, slightly too large for their encasement but supple and firm, pressed together by her too-small bra to make tight, deep cleavage between her soft tits. Her arms were delicate and, while not weak, were runners’ arms–designed for balance, not for strength or force. Her lips were thick and soft, parted slightly as she breathed in the dry air, her green eyes darting back and forth dilated from the prospect and excited fear of her pursuit that day.

She reached behind her and pulled her hair back into a ponytail. The motion pushed her breasts against her bra, straining the material, and she smiled smugly when a boy walking past glanced over and visibly swallowed, walking with a slight limp in an attempt to hide what must have already become a full erection. Sarah loved the effect she had on men, how she could seduce them and control them so easily. She enjoyed the control she had over men, but had always felt that there was something off about it, something missing….

She shrugged, brushing off the thought, tits bouncing generously after she dropped her shoulders. She laced up running shoes and took off up the private drive to Langley Manor.

She didn’t know what she would find, or even if she would find anything. The deliveries had slowed to a complete stop a few days before, and gossip was that the man must have taken a vacation or taken leave of his him for some purpose, because how else could he sustain himself without food?

Sarah came up to the front door, flushed and already sweating from the heat. She rang the door once, twice, and three times, but received no response. She frowned. Surely that was a foolish move; of course someone would have tried it already. She stood before the great house, biting her lip in concentration. Of course, the backyard!

She jogged around the house and leapt the fence dividing what might be generously called the hill’s wilderness habitat and the man’s property. Sarah edged carefully around the tall wooden fence, looking for a broken knot to peer through. There it was, clear as day. Sarah knelt down, leveling her eye with the hole, peering into the man’s backyard.

What she saw nearly knocked her back onto her ass.

There was a man who lived here indeed, but not just any man. He was in every sense of the word a man. He stood six feet tall, sported messy brown hair, and was bent to his work. Sarah had a difficult time concentrating on his work–which she eventually recognized as gardening–because the man was completely and utterly naked. He didn’t wear a scrap of clothing, not even shoes, and his body…Sarah caught herself in a combination gasp and sigh watching him work. His arms rippled with powerful muscle, flexing and pulling as he dug a long shovel into the dirt. His skin seemed to strain at every movement, stretched thin over boulders of muscle. His stomach and chest was just as carefully tuned and refined, hard abs underlining heavy pecs and bracketed by deep obliques. His legs were just as strong, lines standing out as he lifted each shovelful, every muscle swelling and bunching at the work. And his…his….

Sarah’s mouth opened wide on pure instinct, and in the back of her mind she still recognized it might not be wide enough. She barely noticed a growing stain in the joint of her short shorts, her lust clearly visible. The hot sun beat on her back and she thought in a haze that it was much too nice a day for clothes, and so reached back and unclipped her bra, letting it fall to the ground next to her, her breasts springing free, nipples hard and pointing straight toward the object of her lust. Her hand dove into her partially unzipped shorts–when had she done that? –and worked furiously at her soaked, throbbing clit.

His cock, even while working in the garden, was both massive and hard. It was, by her guess, eight inches long, and god knows how thick. Sarah’s mind assaulted her with a slew of images: her on her knees before him, laying his heavy cock across her face, bobbing forward to work half of it into her mouth, gagging with pleasure as he grabbed her hair and forced his long shaft all the way down her convulsing, resisting throat….

Sarah had closed her eyes, her fingers dragging soft moans and cries out of her, her hips and round ass thrusting forward desperately, hoping to be met with the man’s throbbing member, but met only by her frustratingly tiny fingers. As she was about to cum, fingers soaked and breathing ragged, punctuated only by moans, she opened her eyes to the hole and saw the man only from his waist down, cock swinging between his legs, strong muscles pulsing and smoothly moving…toward her?

Sarah cursed herself for being so loud and quickly stood, wrestling her shirt over her head and running off, remembering only seconds later that she left her bra sitting at the hole, but realizing too that it would be too late to run back and grab it, and doing so would risk her being seen by the man.

She ran the short distance home braless, panting both from adrenaline and arousal, and let herself in, immediately withdrawing for a shower, where the running water would clean her sweat and muffle her moaning, shuddering orgasm, her mind replacing her hands with the man’s calloused fingers.

Sarah did not brave another expedition to the Langley Manor for a week. Exactly one week after she had seen the man, a flier was posted on every light pole on Langley Street that the man was looking for a housekeeper for the season. She had to stifle a moan when she looked at the poster. A personal maid for that man was fuel to her already overactive imagination, and it provided her with images of slutty maid costumes, bending at the waist in front of the nude man to pick up his clothing, him ordering her to climb into bed and clean him instead of his house….

Sarah shook her head. What was this, wanting a man to order me around? I’m the one in control here, always. Men fall at my feet and beg for me to fuck them. I don’t want one to order me around and cater to his disgusting whims.

Even so, Sarah found herself finishing the questionnaire, informal application, and portrait and depositing the three together in a self-addressed envelope in the Langley Manor mailbox.

Another week after, she received return mail that read:

Dear Sarah Johnson,

I would be delighted to make your acquaintance and ascertain whether you will be the right candidate for the job. I would like to give you a brief tour of the house, discuss employment, and your potential responsibilities and work hours, as well as any questions you may have regarding the job.

Thank you for your interest, and until next time–

Frederick Langley

So that explains that, Sarah mused, tapping her foot. The man was the heir to a fairly wealthy local family. She looked farther down the page, where he had listed the visit date. It was tomorrow. She almost gasped, but controlled her breathing even though her heart could not slow. She went to town to get a haircut and organized nice, but alluring clothing. That night, she stared at the ceiling, restlessly turning back and forth, the man’s body, muscles, and cock teasing her whenever she closed her eyes.

Sarah walked up to the door confident and poised on her assigned day. She rang the doorbell once and stepped back slightly, admiring herself in the window’s reflection. She had dressed in a black summer dress, tight around her breasts and ass to accentuate them, the hem cut off slightly higher on her thigh than appropriate. When she stepped too long, the hem would ride up and reveal the supple, tempting first inch of the bottom curve of her ass. She knew the dress did this, and almost giggled when she imagined her seduction of this man, as helpless to her delicious body as any wide-eyed boy at her school. She tugged a few times on the neckline of her dress, pulling her tits up simultaneously so the dress became less of a cocktail-type affair and became borderline whorish. Her nipples, hard already, rested merely an inch below the neckline, her breasts barely contained. And the black, Sarah thought idly, worked wonders to contrast her pale skin and orange hair, both glowing in the bright daylight.

So when the door opened and Sarah pouted her lips slightly, showing off her full lips, her body buckling slightly to accentuate her curves, she was almost shocked into propriety by the old, grey-haired man who opened the door. Sarah stuttered for a moment before greeting the man who seemed to be a butler, and followed him inside.

The tour was indeed brief, and the butler discussed the terms of her employment. She was to work cleaning the house every day of the week, and the cleaning work was to be paid as a wage of fifteen dollars per hour. She had no specified hours and could create her own schedule, but the minimum was two hours every day. All this was explained as the butler led her from extravagant room to extravagant room, each lush and filled with velvet, mahogany, and silk.

The tour neared its end and the butler had led Sarah to the parlor. He turned to her, bowing slightly.

“Miss Johnson I’m afraid you’ll have to excuse me, I have received a buzz from Master Langley that he is in need of assistance. Please make yourself comfortable here until my return, when we will finish the tour. I assure you this delay will be short.”

Sarah nodded politely and set her small bag down, sitting carefully in a plush suede chair, enjoying the soft fabric rubbing against her ass as she sat down. She looked around the room casually, eyes lighting on tall bookshelves and a stereotypical globe, all the tones dark and wooden and earthy. All except–

Her bra. There it was, draped over the armrest of a couch as if it were simply discarded or left behind. There was no doubt that it was hers; there was even a couple grass straws still stuck to the clasp. Sarah’s heart raced. He knew. There was no way he didn’t know it was her bra. Unless maybe he hadn’t seen it yet? Maybe the butler had brought it in?

No that wasn’t possible; as she had fled she had seen him walking toward her. He must have looked over the fence and found the bra, decided to hold onto it. What if he had set up the maid employment as a ruse to catch her, to make her come back to the house?

Sarah was breathing hard, and felt both panicked and felt the stirrings of arousal. She stood and walked over to the bra, picking it up in her hand. It would be easy to stuff it into her handbag and walk out, leave the Manor, her identity known but having escaped. She moved to put the bra in her bag, unzipping it, but before she could finish, she glanced up and saw him in the doorway.

He leaned against it casually, mouth turned up at a corner in a mocking, amused smile, eyes laughing and taunting her, arms crossed in front of a tight shirt, biceps and forearms flexing as he did so.

“Is that your bra, Miss Sarah Johnson? Is that why you’re taking it from my house?”

Sarah stumbled on her words, mouth moving briefly before language escaped her, trying to find a response but instead only able to focus on her quickly ramping arousal. Being discovered and called out was turning her on even though she was embarrassed. She crossed her legs, hoping her pussy hadn’t already soaked her thighs.

“Well, if it is, I suppose you shouldn’t leave it out places where it’ll be found. That’s awfully disorderly for someone who wants so badly to be my maid. And you do want to be my maid, very badly, don’t you?”

Sarah swallowed and managed a small “Yes, of course.”

He smiled more broadly now, like a hunter catching a rabbit in a snare, his eyes predatory and roving over her body as she shifted uncomfortably, feeling his gaze tearing her clothes away, a tiny voice in the back of her mind screaming “Yes, please tear off my dress.”

Sarah breathed loudly and composed herself.

“I believe I was to continue the tour then?”

“Not with stolen property, no, unless you are certain that is yours.”

Sarah clenched her teeth tightly and chose to stuff the bra into her bag, ignoring the rush of blood to her face as her pale skin tried desperately to match her hair. The man smirked, his eyes darkening, pushing himself to a standing position from his lean, turning from the door and walking out, saying as he went, “you can see yourself out.” He disappeared, and all signs of life with him, leaving Sarah terribly alone and terribly aroused in the empty manor.

One more week later and Sarah received a letter that simply said:

Dear SJ,

You’re hired.


And yet her first week on the job was tedious and uneventful. The man and butler were nowhere to be seen, and neither made much mess at all. Sarah resigned herself at times to simply exploring the old house, wandering in and out of its dozen rooms, plucking books from bookshelves and examining their titles, bouncing around with curiosity and barely-contained boredom. But the pay was good and the work was easy, so she stayed on.

In her second week, Sarah began to notice things slightly out of place. Articles of clothing were laying about some days. Pants, shirts, underwear, shoes, and socks were strewn about the place with seemingly reckless abandon. As she collected the garments, she tried not to imagine the man wandering the house naked late at nights, pacing the wooden floors, cock swinging with each step…

Each week passed like this, uneventful but still with work to do, always keeping pace with the messy man of Langley Manor, until the first day of July. Sarah walked into the house and immediately found herself face-to-face with a mannequin sporting a uniform. A maid’s uniform. A note was pinned to it that read:


Please wear this around the house when working. Proper servants should have proper uniforms. When you have finished working, place the uniform back on the stand before you leave.


She shrugged and slipped into the uniform, which was less form fitting and much longer than she had hoped for. Still, she wore it around the house with a certain pride knowing he had bought it for her. When she came in the next day, she put the uniform on again, but noticed it slightly tighter around the bust, and the skirt clung more tightly to her legs and ass, the hem cut slightly higher. It was as if the man of Langley manor had altered it overnight….

And day after day, the uniform grew tighter and more revealing, clinging more tightly to her curves. Soon enough a corset was added, pushing her breasts together and up so she had to strain to see over them. She would pass the house’s grand mirrors and see herself grow into more of a sex object every day, a frilly dress giving way to a skirt that didn’t even try to cover her ass, a modest neckline plunging deeper into her cleavage and exposing more and more of her breasts until the slightest jerk would pull the fabric down to expose her nipples. Sarah couldn’t help but feel, as she watched herself slowly transform from a normal maid to a porn star servant, that the man was watching her in the house, enjoying her transformation into an object, a sex toy, his private entertainment. As she worked, she imagined him sitting somewhere hidden away, watching TV monitors of her cleaning, stroking his huge cock while his muscles bulged, his skin beading with sweat.

She found herself more often than not bending at the waist to pick up objects from the floor, letting the cool air expose her perfect ass. When cleaning the table and counters she would lean farther over them than necessary; as her uniform changed, she began to let her tits fall out of the dress, nipples and soft breasts pressing and gliding against the cool marble. One day, on a whim, she pulled out her breasts and played with them, taking a ten-minute break to tease her nipples and pull on them, fantasizing about the man’s reaction somewhere else in the house. The very next day, she returned to the house and found her uniform altered again; any bodice or breast covering had been completely removed. Sarah stared at the uniform, knowing this was both an order and a test. She had been brave enough to expose herself yesterday, so he would make her commit to it every day. Sarah smiled with a blush and quickly donned her uniform, setting cheerily about to her work, perky breasts bouncing as she danced about the house.

In mid-July, she came to the house, excited and aroused as always, her daily highlights having long since become arriving at the Manor to work and exhibit her luscious body to a mysterious but gorgeous man, finding unexpected pleasure in knowing he was almost undoubtedly finding his own in the images of her naked form. She bounced in through the door and began undressing even before the door finished closing, ready to don her uniform, only to find a bare mannequin. Attached to it was a note that read only

“You know what to do.”

Sarah stood still for a moment, unsure of herself. Her uniform was always here, altered and sexier than the day before, with no directions from the Master than those he had given her long ago. She crooked her head at her own thoughts. Master? Since when did I call him that?

Sarah blinked and refocused, her bra straps off her shoulders, standing in the entry in only spandex and a bra. The note, the empty mannequin, both matched together with such sudden clarity and sinful obviousness that she moaned softly. Her uniform was on the mannequin.

Her uniform was nothing.

Sarah quickly stripped down, her feet stomping her spandex firmly to the floor as she tossed her bra to the side with reckless abandon. She was completely nude in a stranger’s house, at his bidding, for no other reason than that he had ordered her to.

She still went about her business, but did so cautiously, slightly unnerved, standing suddenly to look in doorways as if she expected her Master to be there, smirking, hard cock twitching as he watched her breasts bounce and ass tighten with her work. She mused on the idea that what he was having her do now was the same as what she had done to him that first day in June.

Suddenly one day, close to the end of July, her Master appeared. He walked through the house quietly, stalking like a panther even to do such mundane tasks as read the newspaper and pour himself cereal or make food for himself. Sarah knew she was not to interfere with him and his activities–such was one of her responsibilities as a servant, to be seen but never heard–but she found it difficult to avoid him. Even at home, dressed in sweatpants and tank tops, he was a sight manly enough to quicken her breath and weaken her knees. Once, Sarah had been cleaning the floor and her Master sat down at the table nearby with a book, and it had taken all of her willpower not to crawl to him and pull his pants down to see if, after months of fantasies and late-night practice, she could actually fit his cock in her throat. Instead she continued cleaning, turning away from him but pushing her ass towards him so that with every scrub against the floor, her ass would shake alluringly and teasingly at him.

Gradually, her Master began wearing fewer clothes, not saying a word of it and not expecting Sarah to speak. Day by day, she watched her Master undressing, each day passing by maddeningly slow, each night a fevered anticipation of the next lost article of clothing. Her whole body and mind had become bent to worshiping and serving this man, her Master, and pleasing him as much as she could. He had not needed to speak a single word, and yet she was completely under his command, her body at his mercy, her behavior changing according to his whim. She understood that she was his; owned by him, his sex toy, his artwork and personal porn star. She had never been more aroused in her life.

Finally the day came when Sarah walked through the door, stripping in seconds, and walked through the hallway to find her Master lounging nude in a chair, body glowing in the afternoon sun, eyes dark and smile just as cruelly teasing as always. The most arresting detail however was what her eyes were immediately drawn to–his rough, calloused hand was wrapped tightly around the thick shaft of his cock, stroking it slowly to keep it rock hard. Sarah moaned and her knees weakened.

Finally here he was, she had waited and worked for two months to see this again. The money was unimportant, the hours spent bent to her work meaningless compared to this, the veins pulsing in his foreskin gripped in his hand, the thick head glistening with precum, smooth, heavy balls bouncing with each long stroke, all while the rest of his body tensed and shifted, body lithe and directed towards one purpose–carnal, primal sex.

The scent itself was overwhelming, a heavy musk filling the air to fill her eyes with a lustful haze, her eyelids flickering as she fought to keep control of her own body.

After a moment, her Master released his cock, letting it fall with a thud onto his chair and stood, walking past Sarah as if he didn’t see her. As he passed, she breathed a sigh of both disappointment and relief. She went on with her today, but her Master was sure to walk in on her in compromising positions, his cock bobbing and dangling inches from her face or tits or dripping pussy, teasing her without touching, driving her mad without a word.

In August, Sarah caught word from neighbors that Frederick Langley, her Master, was due to move out soon, as he had been only using the house for a summer home. Although it was night and she had already worked that day, Sarah walked up the drive and entered her Master’s manor.

The entry was dark. Every light in the house was off, all except a warm light that spilled out from a door two floors up, a door that had always been locked during her work hours. Sarah wrapped her arms tightly around her bare chest, the house being slightly colder than usual, having already stripped completely bare by habit.

She wandered the house, checking in side rooms and out back, and nowhere in the house was a soul to be seen. She walked up the stairs, pale feet carrying her to the glowing door.

As she stepped inside, Sarah looked around and noticed that, compared to the rest of the house, this room was very plain and simple. Its ornate wooden door swung wide to reveal a blank white room with a single window and a large, pale, orderly bed. A jet-black desk crouched quietly in the corner, and a modern sculpture hung from the ceiling. Sarah walked farther into the room and glanced around to find a book on the pillow, one of sexual and pornographic tales and literary erotica. She was intrigued, but set it back down, and looked around at the room she was now convinced was her Master’s bedroom.

Somewhere downstairs, a clock sounded eleven chimes. It was nearing midnight, but Sarah was determined to speak with her Master about his imminent departure. She stood for a few minutes, but tired and sat on his bed, an action that she knew was irreverent, but she paid no mind to it. She reached over and opened his book and read about a tribe of Amazon warriors conquered and dominated and made into sex slaves by the more powerful men of the North, wielding massive cocks and strength in fighting. Sarah was always damp in the Manor, but as she read the story, reading about man after man dominating women, showing them their rightful place, kneeling at their feet, covered in cock, her hands flew to her clit, and as the men covered the Amazons in their seed, Sarah brought herself to orgasm, moaning loudly, breath hitching and breaking as her body spasmed and twitched in pleasure.

Sarah set down the book on the other side of the bed and lay down, her vision blurred with pleasure, her body glowing. Without meaning to, Sarah fell asleep.

When she awoke, she thought she was dreaming about the story. Her senses returned as a pair of strong, calloused hands gripped her wrists and pinned them together over her head, another hand pulling her legs apart roughly, another set of iron-strong legs keeping them forced apart. Sarah struggled to focus in her post-sleep daze and found herself face to face with her Master.

Her gaze faltered and her mouth opened as she realized her position. She was utterly helpless, weak and powerless under his strong body, his commanding stare ordering her to stay still, his rough hands demanding she not resist. Sarah shifted out of reflex and felt her slippery pussy push against the hot, almost impossible thick head of her Masters cock.

Involuntarily, she bit her lip. For the first time since she had seen him, her Master spoke.

“I know how badly you want me and have wanted me since you saw me naked in the garden in early summer. I designed all of this to slowly convince you to submit to me, to accept your rightful place underneath me not only as a maid, but soon after as a pleasant sight, then as a private stripper, then a porn star, and now, most importantly of all–my fucktoy. My silly little redheaded slut, a whore for me to pin to my bed and fuck senseless, a sleeve for me to fit my cock into and use for my own pleasure. You are a piece of fuckmeat, my slave, and you will do everything I say when I say it because I know you want to be controlled and shown your place and shoved to your knees before me, made to take my cock deep into your throat until you happily gag on it. I heard your thoughts while you cleaned my house and you were always screaming for me to fuck you and control you, but all you need for it is one word, because taking a proud woman and turning her into a wanton slut is no fun unless she admits she needs it. So, little slutty Sarah: yes or no?”

As he finished, the Master pressed his cock firmly against Sarah’s swollen clit, rubbing it slowly with the thick head of his dick as he stared into her eyes, already laughing, already knowing her answer, propping himself up to caress her breast gently with his free hand. Sarah squirmed under him. Everything was too soft, she needed him rougher than that, like an animal, and to be bred and filled and left destroyed….

When she answered, she whispered her response so softly that it was more breath than language, but her Master squeezed her breast tighter, palming her nipple while shooting her an inquisitive, expectant look, encouraging her to try again.

“Yes,” she moaned softly.

Her Master laughed and retorted, “Yes what, whore?”

Sarah blushed and looked away, hot lust pooling in her stomach, electrifying her veins. If she said what he wanted, he would own her, completely. She would be his to control. She hesitated, her breaths coming faster, her hips and legs betraying her as they bucked and flexed to rub her clit against his massive shaft. She turned to him, defeated, dominated, controlled, owned, admitting she was his slut and his property, his fucktoy to use and tie up and spank, to be made available to him and guests and anyone he saw fit.

“Yes Master.”

And her Master smiled and shifted his hips forward, his cock stretching her tight pussy so much Sarah couldn’t breathe. No scream could come and no intake would either, the only sensation she knew was her Master’s fat, long cock impaling her as he drove it deeper into her, sheathing it inch by inch into her twitching cunt until she felt his cock head pushing at her cervix, and he still didn’t stop there. She writhed and moaned and hissed at him, straining to break free now that she had found her breath, but he kept her locked in position, legs open, facing him as he pushed the last inches of his member deep into her belly, his cock popping into her womb.

And there he stopped, letting Sarah adjust. He noticed with evil pleasure that her breathing was random, her heartbeat racing, her eyes dilating with the confusing combination of pain and pleasure, her body shifting to accommodate his throbbing dick, buried in her pussy until his balls dangled against her tight, unused asshole.

Sarah couldn’t focus on anything. He just kept pushing it into her, when she thought it was over he just kept going until her body screamed, about to tear in half but also wracking her with wave after wave of incomparable pleasure, her brain giving up all but the most vital functions as she struggled to comprehend her surrender to this man, who had stuffed her tight teen cunt. As she finally began to understand what was happening, her Master began pulling his cock out. As he withdrew it from her pussy, Sarah felt emptier than she had before her Master fucked her. She whimpered softly and tried to push her ass toward him again, straining to keep it inside of her, but she watched in intense disappointment as he shifted farther back, his cock popping out of her vagina and bobbing twice before landing with a wet smack on her belly. Sarah angled her hips towards him.

When her Master looked down at her, he could see her eyes were desperate, begging, pleading with him for his cock. Without breaking eye contact, he grabbed his shaft with one hand and angled it down, rubbing his slut’s clit as he did, and slowly, patiently, thrust forward again. He continued the process for five minutes, fucking her so slowly that her hips began bucking madly to plead for a harder fucking. Sarah got so impatient that she bucked up against her Master and caught him off guard, partially rolling him onto his side.

As Sarah would learn, this was either a mistake, or a wondrous discovery.

Immediately after she tried to wrest control from her Master, Sarah was slammed onto her back on the bed. She turned fearfully and her Master caught her in his gaze, one hand gripping her wrists as tightly as possible, another hand guiding his cock to her dripping cunt. Once he slid his tip inside her tight fuckhole, he used his free hand to slap her tits roughly, back and forth, the slaps stinging her skin but shocking her body, pain mixing with pleasure until Sarah couldn’t tell between the two. He then leaned into her body, moving his hand from her reddening breasts to her neck. He plunged the full length of his cock into her womb at the same time as he wrapped his hand around her throat, squeezing tightly. He wouldn’t stop. Sarah lost her air as her Master fucked her as roughly as she had wanted before, pounding into her over and over again, shaking her body and making her tits bounce up and down with every violent thrust, his cock popping in and out of her womb as her pussy spasmed in pleasure, his thighs hitting her ass on every stroke. In her dominated bliss, vision slowly blackening from air loss, Sarah struggled to keep her eyes on her Master’s, knowing this would please him, instinctually understanding that all she existed for was to please her Master and serve his cock, the hard rod stretching her little cunt over and over, time stretching as he kept fucking her as roughly as he wished. All she could feel was his cock, his hand around her throat, and his smooth balls slapping her asshole again and again. Suddenly, her eyes shot open and she struggled to breath. Her vision was failing and electricity flew from her skin straight to her cunt. She was about to cum on her Master’s cock for the first time.

As Sarah struggled to cry out and moan, her Master only fucked her rougher and faster. It was unbelievable how hard he could fuck her, driving his full length into her every time. Her body seized up and her cunt twitched uncontrollably. Just as Sarah could feel herself cumming, her Master let go of her throat and she screamed loudly, her cries of ecstasy broken up by almost sobbing moans, her bliss complete, her will broken. She was a cock slut, designed to be fucked and used by this man. All she wanted was his cock. It was all she could think about and imagine, submitting to him and taking his cock in any hole he wanted to use.

As if he had read her mind, Sarah’s Master withdrew from her twitching labia and released her wrists. He instead grabbed her by her hair and used it to drag her to the foot of the bed, forcing her to scramble on hands and knees. Her Master turned her roughly around, practically picking her up to throw her down again, one hand unceremoniously pulling her ass up into the air, another pushing her face into the mattress. Still in post-orgasmic bliss, Sarah only figured out what he had planned when she felt the tip of his lubricated dick push against her asshole.

She had always imagined anal and fantasized about it. She had even tried it with a boyfriend once and found it to be great because it made his dick seem bigger. But with this man, her Master….She was unsure if she could take a cock that big. Even so, she looked back and began to protest, but was far too late. Before she could say a word, her Master was already pushing into her. She felt stuffed, completely full. She had no idea something that huge could fit inside her, but it made her feel satisfied and destroyed. As her Master sped up and fucked her more forcefully, his balls bouncing against her clit, quickly rocketing her into another orgasm, she was proud of her abilities; being able to take his cock, following orders so compliantly, pleasing him. All were rewarded by her Master with orgasms. As if on cue, he buried himself as deep into her as her tiny hole would allow, her firm ass shaking against her Master’s tree-trunk thighs, and pushing her into another orgasm, and as her body exploded, her pleasure center flooding her with positivity and congratulating her for her complete submission, she let out a feral cry, a plea for her Master to breed her and ravage her body, to use her any way he wished.

He was more than happy to comply.

Before she knew it, Sarah found herself on her back again, her head over the side of the bed. Her reactions had long since become instinctual. Her jaw flew open, her throat relaxing and her lips tightening into a firm O. She fingered herself, fingers flicking her clit. Her Master stood in front of her, his cock hanging down, twitching with his pulse. As soon as she settled into her position, Sarah’s Master lost no time. He pumped his cock a couple times and found it hard, then knelt and pushed the tip against Sarah’s lips. She easily gave in and savored the taste of his cock mixed with her pussy and ass. Her mind went wild as she wrapped her lips and tongue around him, feeling his pulse in her mouth, letting him stretch her lips as he pushed deeper. She loved it, every inch, almost better than fucking. This was the ultimate service, the ultimate submission; taking a man’s cock into her throat, making her completely powerless. She knew this act more than any other was a sign of her acceptance of enslavement. Her throat was just another hole for him to fuck, and she loved feeling his thick shaft slide over her tongue to the back of her throat and down, shifting her neck to allow for her Master’s incredible length and girth. Sarah blinked quickly and looked up. There were still three inches to go, she thought, gagging slightly. Slowly but surely, he fit every last one inside of her throat. He thrust lightly, watching his cock fill Sarah’s throat, treasuring the sight of a pretty little redhead slut’s throat swelling with every push of his massive dick.

Sarah felt tears dropping from her eyes, but only from the strain. She was overjoyed to serve her Master. She was a slut. No, not a slut, his slut. She was his whore and his fucktoy and his little cum dumpster. She wanted this. This was her place, lips around a cock, serving completely, her body nothing but her Master’s toy. She strained to stay on his long shaft, but began running out of hair. She coughed and spluttered and tapped his leg politely. Her Master did not budge. As the seconds passed, her need for air became more urgent, as did her leg taps. Finally, Sarah began to squirm on the bed, cock still buried deep in her throat, her lungs searching for air but finding none, and her Master grabbed her head and pulled it firmly onto his cock, not letting her budge.

Slowly, Sarah struggled less, her taps growing fainter, her eyes only focusing on the stiff rod just below her nose like a feeding tube stuffed into her throat. Her jaw and lips loosened and her eyes fluttered, watching the smooth balls pressed against her nose twitching and seeing them swing lightly with gentle thrusts, and then she didn’t see or feel anything else, slipping into black.

When she came to, Sarah gasped in air like a man too long underwater, and almost immediately began moaning again. Her Master was behind her, pounding her pussy again. What finally woke her from her unconsciousness was a powerful orgasm. Sarah looked up at a mirror set up behind the bed frame and saw herself for the first time that night. She was red everywhere. Handprints were on her tits from her earlier spanking, the light mascara she had put on earlier was running down her face, her usually tame hair was balled into her Master’s fist, and what hair wasn’t stuck out in all directions. Her Master pulled her hair roughly, using it to guide her body and ass to push against him, the sound of their skin slapping filling the air. She looked lower and watched her round, full, firm tits swinging. She looked herself in the face and didn’t see Sarah. She saw a willing fucktoy, a needy slave, and a redheaded slut. Seeing herself so owned, watching her Master dominate and fuck her, his cock sending her into another reeling orgasm, Sarah nearly collapsed in pleasure. She loved seeing herself being used, it was so raw and sinful and matched her Master’s primal fucking and animalistic desire.

Her Master began fucking her harder and faster again, and Sarah lost her mind with orgasm after orgasm, unsure if he could ever even run out of energy. They must have been fucking for hours already, nonstop, just constant blissful destruction.

Master and slut fucked like this for another two hours, when Sarah, barely able to move from over exhaustion, her senses and mind overwhelmed by endless orgasms, felt her Master’s rough hands grip her and pull her to the floor. She fell, but straightened back up, resting on her knees, her mouth opening. But her Master had something else in mind. He propped her back against the bed and grabbed her tits, tweaking and pinching her nipples until Sarah couldn’t help but start moaning again, then slapped his cock between her tits and made her push them together. Her soft, pale tits smashed together, huge breasts with perfect cleavage, sent Sarah’s Master into a fever. He pushed his hips forward and slid his cock into the sleeve Sarah’s perfect bust made and fucked away.

Sarah loved it too, feeling her tits used as another fuckhole, the thrusting and massive cock so close to her face alluring beyond belief. As she bit her lips and rocked her tits on her Master’s cock, Sarah could hear him growling and grunting lowly. She looked up and saw his face tense up, his entire body rippling in tension, muscles taut against his skin, veins swollen. She bobbed her body down onto his cock a few more times, then let go and let her mouth fall onto his shaft instead, his member already slick with spit, and shuddered in delight as she felt him slide deep into her throat. She bobbed on his cock, shoving her mouth forward again and again, determined to make him cum. She moved closer and pressed her tits against his legs. When she buried his dick in her throat, she pushed another extra half inch down and let her tongue dart out to lick his balls.

And then, finally, Sarah felt her Master’s cock swell. She gripped the back of her Master’s legs and used them to force his cock as deep into her throat as was possible. She flicked her tongue over his shaft and looked up at him. When she made eye contact with him, her eyes innocent and desperate to please, begging for his cum, Sarah’s Master grabbed her by the back of her head and thrust his hips forward. Sarah felt his balls tighten against her chin, and he groaned loudly. Her Master came, and Sarah gave her last act of submission, her pretty face working to accommodate a thick cock, her tongue furiously sliding against it, her flaming hair framing her face perfectly. Sarah closed her eyes and shivered in carnal pleasure as jet after jet of hot, thick cum splattered against her throat and dripped down into her stomach, filling her up, so much cum that her Master had to begin pulling out from her throat because she couldn’t swallow fast enough. She tipped her head back and he kept shooting his massive load, her mouth filling halfway with cum before he let go of his cock. Sarah swirled it in her mouth for a moment, loving what his cum meant and how it tasted, and swallowed it in one gulp. As her Master stood, his cock slowly beginning to droop, she dodged forward and eagerly cleaned it with her tongue, earning an approving nod from her Master and owner, the man of Langley Manor.

Sarah continued to work at Langley Manor for the rest of summer, earning triple what she started at the beginning of summer. Each summer, Frederick Langley, Sarah’s Master, would come back to town, and he was always quick to contact Sarah to be his servant. Sarah, of course, was more than happy to comply. She had found her place. At the man’s feet, his cock across her face, with declarations of “Yes, Master” and “Please, Sir” always ready on her lips. She had discovered what she was meant to do: serve, please, and obey her Master at Langley Manor.

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ปั้มไลค์ wrote

Like!! Thank you for publishing this awesome article.