[Originally written on October 31st 2020]
Wow. Just… wow. Bite is not a session I’m overly familiar with, to be honest, although after that experience I’m struggling to think of reasons why that would be. It’s interesting that you begin by describing yourself as “unknown and unknowable” – I was just earlier today considering myself very lucky to have this place where I can open myself up and be completely known by you! I hope to be able to offer the same to you, if you ever need it.
There’s something about the way you describe the story – even a scenario as simple as a man, relaxing peacefully in a Garden – that really hit me, and I found myself easily slipping into his place (although I suspect he wasn’t collared property with his sluthole stuffed full in the original story). I was curious, because I couldn’t quite recall what this was all leading to… until the introduction of the Fruit, and the beautiful, terrible whispers of Temptation.
They hit me strong, Mistress, I don’t mind telling you. You started out comparatively tamely, but even by then I was already hooked. And as you ramped up the depravity, with talks of sluts and filth and all the pleasure in the world, if I just submitted to you – it only cemented my decision further. I would abandon this Paradise, surrender my soul… Sign any contract, just to assume my place beneath you, controlled happily and willingly given up forever. Free will is an illusion – I merely pretend to go about my own business, when in reality I am but a vessel for your desires. How could it be wrong, to be so dirty and sinful, such a dumb horny slut, when it feels so impossibly good? How could anyone resist the alluring call of slavery?
Hearing the Devil hissssss in my ear as her whispers overwhelmed my little mind already had the blood pumping to my (your) cock – but once I heard the call to start stroking… I tell no lie, Mistress – I genuinely gasped, it felt so good. Any lingering thoughts I had were instantly obliterated, my entire being converted to an engine for lust and submission and need. This is the pleasure that comes from truly giving in, from accepting your control. I was good (bad?) though, and remembered your collar around my neck, not allowing myself to orgasm quite yet. It was only once the whispers faded to silence and I managed to collect myself somewhat that I got onto my knees, assumed slut position, and obeyed.
It was… so, so, good. Not just because it was an orgasm, not just because of mini-Locktober, not just because my slutty hole was filled for you. But because I knew now exactly what I would surrender, what I would give up, what I would sacrifice to be yours. And it’s everything. It’s anything. All of it is irrelevant before your pleasure. Free will means nothing, before the honour of belonging to you – control is pointless, unless it’s in your hands. I belong to you, my Mistress. And that is exactly how it should be.