Sex Slave

Submitted by Nicolae Parx

Once in a while, an illustration can be more powerful than a photo. I believe this is one of them.

A Domme takes her slave into her own space whenever she want him there.


A naked male figure, strapped to a table, his legs drawn upright and held in place by one woman gripping mercilessly on his knees, holding him steady and immobile. His cock betrays him; his penis is as upright as his legs are spread wide. An ass, spread by another Woman's hands, hands he knows well and loves and fears, seems to stand open and ready by itself. She peers inside the blackness now exposed to the light. Her light.

He has no face. Instead, it's covered by the warm wetness of one of his captors, the woman holding him steady and unmoving, covering his mouth with herself so his screams or whimpers or moans are inaudible except for those brief periods when she rises and allows him to gulp air into his lungs. His sight, also prisoner to her wet skin, is useless. His hands lie limply at his sides awaiting the command to hold his cheeks farther apart so the seated Woman who owns him, can delve in deeper and see Her target more closely.

All he can do is feel. He has no needs, nowhere to go, no other thoughts in his brain except to suffer for Her pleasure, whatever it is.

Without warning, cold steel touches the skin between his scrotum and his ass and the teeth of the metal wheel dig gently into him. If he moans, no one knows. If he gasps, no one hears. The vibrations of his sounds serve merely to titillate the woman's labia that smother his face.

At the other end, a woman digs deeper with her wheel and traces the line of skin deeply and with more force. Each lap of the wheel threatens to go farther and farther down and deeper and deeper inside that small strip of skin toward his spread ass and touch the damp darkness inside. His chest heaves, a groan apparently rises inside him, but it is silenced until she says,

"Spread yourself for Me."

Like a puppet on a string, he obeys. Reaching diligently toward his cheeks, he grips and pulls them apart so She can invade him better, deeper, longer, with more ease. His only goal is to provide Her access; his only thought is to obey. She owns him, all parts of him, outside as well as the inside She is now claiming. There is no other world for him; he lives right here and now within Her dominion.

Her sexslave. Her fucktoy. The words suddenly take on real meaning and he winces with the sudden realization that he is nothing except Her property.

She moves in with the unforgiving metal wheel and traces him, inch by inch, to the darkest spot of his being. Almost as dark as the fantasies in his soul, She looks inside him and . . .

smiles.

The wheel moves down, down, relentlessly down and he screams soundlessly into another wetness that drips across his face. Unhearing, She ignores his agony and . . .

smiles.

With keen aim and Her target now in plain sight, She rolls the wheel into him, harder and harder, until his screaming produces enough vibration to make the wetness above him fall onto his face with incredible volume and force. Dutifully he drinks it up while She sits between his spread and quivering legs and drives Her tool toward Her final goal. She knows he is suffering for Her and She . . .

smiles.

With one hand filled with lubrication, She enters him casually, first with one finger and then another and another until his ass is finally bursting from the sheer dimension of the intrusion. Rolling three fingers in a silent circle, She knows he is panting and hoarse with incessant groaning, and his chest aches from heaving, and his legs agonize from restraint, but She merely . . .

smiles.

With the wheel tearing into his tender virgin flesh, She presses inward toward Her goal. Reaching up and around, then down and back, She inspects every inch inside him until She locates the goal of Her search. His suddenly-sucked in chest betrays him; his dripping penis cascades rivers down the rigid shaft toward Her two fingers that still remain outside him. She rubs the juice he creates just for Her between Her thumb and pinkie and She . . .

smiles.

. . . as he screams
. . . as he groans
. . . as he quivers
. . . as he trembles
. . . as he shudders
. . . as he shakes

in shock and in pain. in terror and in resignation. in horror and in realization of what he truly is to Her and within him is unleashed . . .

spasm after spasm, he ejaculates directly upward, reaching unimaginable heights as She presses firmly into his prostate and forces him to finish on Her command, on Her timing, on Her desire, on Her demand, on Her pleasure. Watching the rivers pour over his searing shaft, She just . . .

smiles. and whispers...

"Sleep well, my sexslave, my fucktoy. you are owned. you are Mine. I know it and I own this time, you, and your dreams.

When I want you again, my fucktoy, I'll let you know."