Earlier this week I said “I do love getting all subby sometimes and I was looking forward to being completely objectified.” Someone was offended that I implied he had objectified me. I had to explain I meant it as a desirable thing for me.
While I do enjoy a gentleman who treats me like a lady, sometimes it is so perfect just to “be”. Be a body. Be female. Be used. Be sensation. Be subhuman. Simply exist. Who and what I am does not matter, if only for a little while. In that mindset, everything else falls away. I am no one. I am nothing, except for what he needs me to be. I feel complete inner peace, even while my body is writhing in agony and ecstasy. My explanation seemed to satisfy him.
A few hours later, my phone rang. He wanted me there. Smiling I grabbed my keys and walked out the door. All I had to do was drive. I didn’t have to think about anything else. As I was driving I could feel the weight of everyday worries lifting. The closer I got to him, the less of “me” was still there.
I arrived and went in. His fingers wrapped themselves into my hair. Anything that was still me, the person I am, the individual disappeared.
He pushed me down to my knees and fed me his cock, now with both hands firmly holding me by my hair. As he rammed it down my throat I relaxed and allowed him to use me, gasping for air in between his thrusts. Then I was dragged by my hair up the stairs. Once there, he roughly pulled my breasts from my shirt and twisted my nipples until I finally gasped and flinched. Then he released me and sat down in a chair.
I do not remember if he commanded me or if I acted on instinct. I dropped to my knees, my breasts brushing against his cock as I did. I began stroking, nibbling, and sucking his balls and cock. Sometimes he would fuck my face, other times he would allow me the freedom to move on my own. I was very content and could have stayed there for hours.
“Strip.” I swallowed his cock one last time, and stood up. I smiled and undressed, looking into his eyes. I stood there awaiting his next command. He looked me over for a moment. “Turn around.” I did. He examined me again from that angle.
He walked over to me and again grabbed a fistful of hair. “Hmm… no bruises this time. Haven’t you been getting what you need?” He pulled me to a padded table and told me to get on it. I did not have to wait long on my hands and knees before the first strike of the cane. He beat my ass, back, and tits until he was satisfied with his work.
“Let’s see what that did for you,” he said as he shoved his fingers into my sopping wet pussy. I moaned. He shoved his cock into my cunt and began fucking hard. Within a few seconds it seemed, I was asking to cum. It was allowed. He started beating me and kept pounding until I came again. He could feel each blow causing my muscles to clench on his cock. As he fucked and beat me, he made me tell him in detail about the others I had fucked since my last visit. The cane strokes began to feel so nice as I told him what a slut I was.
Suddenly he pulled out and shoved his cock down my throat, one hand in my hair, and the other bringing the cane down hard on my ass over and over again. Now he could feel the clenching via my throat. Now my gasps for air were accentuated with primal sounds as my body processed the pain.
He stopped and walked away. My head dropped to the table, and I remained there, panting, ass up in the air, still moaning and writhing. “Are you feeling objectified yet?” he asked. I somehow indicated that I was.
“Stand up and put your arms behind your back.” I did and he secured my wrists. “You need something to write about.” He began to cane my nipples now that he had a better angle. The pain was excruciating. Now that I think about it, I do not believe they had ever felt a cane.
“Face on the floor.” I dropped to my knees and complied. More caning. Apparently he had missed a spot or two earlier. “That will make a good picture,” he said after a series of particularly cruel blows left me wrenched sideways trying to protect myself with my hands. He paused and took some photos.
Suddenly he rammed his cock in my ass balls deep and started slamming into me. With no warning, and no lube, I was overcome by pain as my body tried to adjust. He had a firm hold of my wrists and did not allow me to move away. Even before the pain had receded, I was close to cuming. He growled “Cum,” and I did. As my body accepted him, I came again and again.
He stopped and left me lying there. I do not know for how long. I heard water in the bathroom, so I knew he had cleaned his cock. Then he removed the wrist restraint and sat down. “Crawl to my cock.” As I served his cock he continued to take photos. I worshiped his cock for a very long time until he finally shot his load into my mouth. There was so much I instinctively started swallowing so I would not lose a drop, and when I did he shoved his cock all the way down and continued to cum.
I cleaned his cock and rested my head on his thigh, still kneeling at his feet. He stroked my hair. Finally we both came back to earth and he sent me away, marked and used. I was quite sure he now understood my definition of objectified. I grinned all the way home.