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Review This Story || Author: Victor Mann

Melia - A Feminist Learns

Part 3

Melia: A Feminist Learns, III

 

 

Melia: A Feminist Learns, III

 

 

I crave power over women and savor it.   And it is only because that craving is so powerfully strong that I am so often able to get exactly what I want.  I do think women

instinctively respond to the type of cultivated, but raw male power I’m talking about, but society’s indoctrination often constrains them to conceal it very deeply within.  Though I call myself a woman-trainer, what I am really doing is “detraining,” unmasking a woman so that she can be he true self.  No---I am not a “play” Master.  I believe in Rule.

 

 

I extracted my spit-slopped prick from the bitch’s mouth, split her legs apart roughly

And shoved myself in her to the hilt.    Her hole was a mass of mushy wetness.  There is really nothing better than a cunt who has been put in her place but good and there is no better fuck than this.  My thick hard prick was seized almost immediately by the deep spasms of her cunt in orgasm.  She knew I was going to take everything from her.  I had

told her, like a man, directly and honestly that this would be true from the beginning.

Melia’s cunt, body and demeanor gave full consent now to this decision of mine about

her.  I did not brace my body with my hands, but used Melia as a fuck mattress, as it were, taking her with every presumption of right.  She kept her hands at her side as she had been taught.  And she kept her cunt mouth shut.  For the most part I do not countenance a bitch’s talking when I am using her.  For the purposes of this “claiming fuck,” not so different from the other’s I have administered, but special in that it marked the beginning of Our/our fuller relationship, Melia knew that she was allowed as fierce a groaning as she wished, and she was permitted gently and nicely controlled bodily movement to take full pleasure of the graces of my hard prick. I could feel her orgasmic

volcano under me, all the stronger because I forced her to modulate it to my dictates.

The deep, deep groaning and controlled spasms of Melia’s body now, made me understand I was doing exactly the right thing with her.  Under my thumb she

would flourish and flower.  This feminist bitch had sneered for the last time.

 

I was very proud now.  I have been a woman-trainer for a long time, but I don’t think

I had ever felt as complete a triumph, as I did in my conquest of this one squirrely

bitch.  Perhaps it was just my age, 48, which led me to break my vow not to burden

my household with a permanent cunt, or maybe it was the beautiful way Melia

had turned into something worth using regularly.  In any case, I was happy this day

that I was going to be taking this one home. No doubt I was especially cruel to

Melia’s tit nipples as I shot my mess in her.  She met this pain with an ejaculation

of her own, allowed by my detailed instructions to her about this morning:

“Give me what I fucking deserve Master!” And then--- through gritted

teeth:  “Thank you, Sir, for the honor of your pain.”  I was very, very pleased.

I had not scripted her words here. 

 

I lay atop Melia for some time now, something I am not wont to do. I had not

kissed her during this fuck and I would not.  The day does come for such

things, but only when the woman is fully ready for such grace.

 

“May this set of holes speak, Master,  Melia said very sweetly, taking care

not to have her voice be strained, though my weight still lay upon her, partially

unsupported.

 

“The cunt may use her voice,” I said, only slightly annoyed at the intrusion into

my pleasant thoughts.

 

Now, I have no patience for “woman-talk” in the context of my sexual affairs

and particularly not the grating talk of the so-called “empowered” woman who

wants praise for her good fucking or cock-sucking.  But Melia had learned

the pleasant tones, lisping and “cunty” tones that come from the core of a woman

and the mindset that underlay those tones was, with some rather harsh work,

clarified and in place.  I knew that subject and tone would be in accordance

with my pleasures and her status. In short, though I knew that she would spend

a lot of time in the future gagged to make the point,  Melia had learned to please me in speech.

 

I slid off Melia to the wall side of her bed and propped myself up on my elbow.

Her hair was very pretty now, done by the best hairdresser.  The bitch gray was gone

from it.  Her glistening grey eyes really struck me now.  She had just undergone a

deep assault, an assumption equivalent to rape.  But there was a flame, a passion,

an exultation in her eyes that was beautiful.  What I saw in this cunt’s eyes was

pride intermixed with  sincere expectation.   Her make-up was a mess now from sweat and some tears that came, more, I judged, from the pain she had just tasted, than emotion, though she was clearly in a heightened emotional state.  Melia waited to speak, but waited, properly, until I had surveyed her carefully.  Her face was flushed and blotched incredibly from her passion. The nipples of her very nice tits were chafed from usage and boldly erect.  They looked directly at me throughthe holes of her nippleless bra. They were ready, it seemed to me, for much more than what they had gotten.  Because she had kept herself in place nicely for the fucking, I saw no rips in her very delicate lingerie.  Her stockings too had no punishable runs.  She had taken great care, also, though it was difficult, not rub her pretty shoes together during the night, or rub them against something

during the fuck,  and they remained pristine in sheen.  She knew that I do not like a bitch in scuffed shoes and she knew, too, that I deal with such insults harshly.  I put my hand to her clean shaved cunt and felt the grossly swollen lips and the dirt I had left there.  Scooping a generous amount, I put my hand to her craw to be lapped up.  Then we talked.

 

“Master, am I not deeper and truer now?” she asked in a little girl cunt tone

that pleased me.

 

I answered: “It is very, very hard to be a real woman.  Contrary to the bullshit common

understanding, a woman has to be incredibly strong to embrace her truth.

You are about to enter my fucking house.  There is no woman’s will in

my house.  None.  It is not allowed.  As you know, I am not wont to

compliment.  When a woman really needs compliments, she has not yet learned.

I plow the ground, I seed it and it will grow beautifully.  I am a cultivator.

I plow very fucking deep.  And I force truth. There is no cutesy, eye-batting

evasion with Victor.  You would not be entering my house, if you had the slightest intent to “will” before me.  You have embraced truth. I am plumbing your depths and they will be plumbed completely.  But I don’t see any resemblance here to the bitch-mouthed,

cunt I first met at those meetings.  That was the fucking surface completely.

Yes, I have made you deeper.”

 

Melia said, “Thank you, Sir, for that gift.  I mean it very sincerely. You know that I love

you very deeply.  I know that is cunt talk, but it is true.  I am still learning

and sometimes I feel so inadequate,  but I can say that I’ve willed enough

in my bitch life.  And much of it was nothing but an act.  I know this is

brass tacks now and I want you to treat my will harshly.  I really do. I want

to be yours, your way.  You’ve never yet slapped me.  You have been manly,

more manly than I deserve, but you have never done that…”  tears started

coming into Melia’s eye when she said the next words, looking at me the

way a woman looks when she sincerely seeks to be good: “Is there a real woman

anywhere who doesn’t need the back of the hand, once in a while?”  There was

a pause, and more tears.  The conflict in her heart that brought the tears was

her social conditioning, the barrier to her being the woman she knew she was.

 

“Clean up this bitch mess on you,” I said abruptly, “Shower and when finished

you will crawl to the table in the living room with that issue of Ms. magazine on it.

Is it Fall of 2004? You know the issue where there is that “sad” picture of a very pretty woman’s face with grommets fancifully detailed on her upper and lower lips to take the laces put on her mouth.  You will crawl back to the bed with that issue, contemplate

it for some time and masturbate to orgasm with the truth of that image in your mind.

You will be deep and true for me, bitch.  When you are done, I want you dressed properly and in a corset.  There are some difficult rituals to be done before you cross my fucking threshold.”

 

I was looking forward to the rest of the morning.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


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