Big Ass Submissive Whore Fuck Slave Surrender

You always knew deep down that you were a big ass submissive whore used like fuck slave, the kind of woman whose curves begged for command, whose wide hips and plush rear swayed with an invitation only a firm hand could answer. It started innocently enough, a late-night scroll through an discreet app for like-minded adults, where profiles whispered promises of surrender. His photo caught you firsttall, broad-shouldered, with eyes like polished obsidian that pierced through the screen. MasterK, his handle read. Your fingers trembled as you messaged him, heart pounding with that familiar ache between your thighs. “Looking for a big ass submissive whore used like fuck slave,” you typed, bold and breathless. His reply came swift: “Prove it. My place. Friday. Wear nothing but a trench coat.”

The elevator ride to his penthouse felt eternal, the mirrored walls reflecting your flushed cheeks and the way your heavy breasts strained against the coat’s fabric. Your bare skin prickled beneath, nipples hardening at the cool air slipping through the collar. The scent of your own arousal lingered, musky and sweet, as you stepped into his domaina sleek expanse of dark leather furniture, floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the city lights, and the faint aroma of sandalwood incense curling from hidden corners. He waited there, shirt unbuttoned to reveal a chiseled chest dusted with hair, his gaze raking over you like a physical touch.

“Drop the coat,” he commanded, voice low and gravelly, sending shivers racing down your spine. You obeyed, letting the fabric pool at your feet, exposing your naked form. His eyes lingered on your big ass, the cheeks full and round, dimpling slightly as you shifted.

God, I want him to grab it, squeeze it, make it his,

you thought, pulse throbbing in your core. He circled you slowly, the heat of his body brushing your skin without contact, building the tension like a storm gathering force. “Beautiful,” he murmured, breath warm against your ear. “A perfect big ass submissive whore ready to be used like fuck slave. But first, we talk limits. Safe word is red. Yours?”

“Yellow to slow,” you whispered, voice husky with need. His nod was approval, a contract sealed in the charged air. He led you to the couch, not with force, but with a hand hovering at the small of your back, guiding. You sank into the cushions, thighs parting instinctively, the leather cool and sticky against your damp folds. He knelt before you, strong hands parting your knees wider, inhaling deeply. “Smell that? Your submission, ripe and ready.” His fingers traced feather-light patterns up your inner thighs, avoiding your aching center, teasing until you whimpered.

The build was exquisite agony. He ordered you to stand, bend over the arm of the couch, presenting your big ass like an offering. The position stretched you open, vulnerable, the air kissing your exposed pussy and the tight ring above. You heard the rustle of his belt unbuckling, the soft clink of metal, but it was only to retrieve silk restraints from a drawer. “Arms behind,” he said. You complied, the smooth cords binding your wrists loosely enough to escape if needed, but firm enough to heighten the thrill. His palm cupped one cheek, kneading the flesh, thumb dipping into the cleft. Electric sparks shot through you at the contact, your moan echoing softly.

Yes, use me, own this big ass submissive whore body,

you silently begged. He chuckled, low and dark, delivering the first light spanka sharp sting blooming into heat that pooled liquid between your legs. “Count,” he growled. “One,” you gasped, arching back. Each subsequent tap was measured, sensual, the sound of flesh meeting flesh rhythmic, like a heartbeat. By ten, your ass glowed pink, warm under his soothing rubs, the pain transmuting to pulsing pleasure. He pressed his clothed erection against you then, hard and insistent, grinding slowly. The friction through denim made you sob with want, scent of his colognecitrus and smokemingling with your sweat-slick skin.

He unbound your wrists only to reposition you on your knees, the plush rug soft under them. “Suck,” was his simple command. You leaned forward eagerly, nuzzling his zipper, tasting salt through the fabric before he freed his cock. Thick, veined, it bobbed before your lips, pre-cum beading at the tip like dew. Your mouth watered as you engulfed him, tongue swirling the velvety head, savoring the musky flavor exploding on your taste buds. He threaded fingers through your hair, not pulling, but guiding, thrusting shallowly as you hollowed your cheeks. Gluck-gluck sounds filled the room, wet and obscene, your saliva dripping down his shaft to coat your chin. His groans fueled you, hips bucking gently, praising: “Good girl, such a eager big ass submissive whore.”

Rising tension coiled tighter as he pulled you up, leading you to the bedroom. Dim lights cast shadows over a king-sized bed draped in black silk sheets. He laid you face-down, ass up, pillows propping your hips high. The vulnerability made your clit throb against the fabric. Lubecool and slickdrizzled over your cheeks, his fingers spreading it, one dipping into your pussy, then two, scissoring slowly. “So wet for your fuck slave use,” he murmured, voice thick. You nodded frantically, pushing back. He positioned himself, the blunt head nudging your entrance, pausing for consent. “Please,” you breathed. “Use me like the fuck slave I am.”

He sank in inch by torturous inch, stretching your walls with delicious burn. The fullness overwhelmed, every ridge dragging against your nerves. He bottomed out, balls snug against your clit, then held still, letting you adjust, his hands massaging your reddened ass. The slow withdrawal was agony, only to plunge deeper, building a rhythmdeep, measured thrusts that slapped skin on skin. Sweat beaded on your back, tasting salty as he leaned to lick it. Your moans rose, crescendoing with each grind against that spot inside. Pressure built, relentless, his fingers circling your clit in time.

“Come for me, my big ass submissive whore,” he demanded, pace quickening. The world narrowed to sensation: the stretch of him, the jiggle of your ass with each impact, the wet squelch of your union. Orgasm crashed like waves, ripping cries from your throat, pussy clenching rhythmically around him. He followed, groaning your nameLilahot spurts flooding you deep. He collapsed over you gently, weight comforting, cock twitching in aftershocks.

In the afterglow, he untangled you both, drawing you into his arms. Silk sheets whispered against sweat-damp skin, his heartbeat steady under your ear. Fingers traced lazy patterns on your cooling ass, no longer stinging but tender. “You were perfect,” he whispered, lips brushing your forehead.

This is more than playit’s connection, raw and real,

you realized, a soft smile curving your lips. The city lights twinkled beyond, but here, in his embrace, you felt claimed, cherisheda big ass submissive whore gloriously used like fuck slave, yet utterly free in surrender. Dawn crept in slowly, promising more nights of such sweet dominion.