The line between play and love had blurred so completely that I no longer tried to separate them. Every morning felt like a quiet vow; every night, a deeper promise. The dominance remained—sharp, unapologetic—but it carried weight now, the kind that came from knowing exactly what breaking her could cost, and choosing tenderness instead.
Mornings started playful, almost teasing in a new way.
I'd wake her with slow kisses down her spine, hands roaming gently until she sighed and arched into me. Then I'd flip her onto her back, pin her wrists above her head with one hand, and slide inside her in one long, deliberate thrust.
"Feel that, my future wife?" I'd murmur against her lips, hips rolling slow and deep. "This cunt is going to wear my ring soon. Every inch of you is going to be mine—legally, forever."
She'd gasp, legs wrapping around my waist, pulling me deeper.
"Yes… God, yes… tease your future wife's dripping slit… make me ache for it…"
I'd grin against her neck, picking up speed just enough to make her breath hitch, then slow again—grinding deep, circling my hips so the base of my cock pressed against her clit without mercy.
"Beg for your husband-to-be," I whispered. "Beg like the perfect, obedient slut you'll always be."
"Please… husband… please let your desperate wife cum… I need to feel you own me… claim me… fill me…"
I'd keep her on that razor's edge for long minutes—thrusting slow, then hard, then slow again—until her nails dug into my shoulders and her voice cracked into soft, pleading whimpers.
Only when tears glistened at the corners of her eyes did I growl low.
"Cum for me, baby. Cum knowing you're mine—today, tomorrow, always."
She shattered beautifully—quiet, trembling waves that milked me deep, her cunt pulsing in slow, rhythmic squeezes. I followed right after, spilling inside her with a groan that felt like surrender.
We stayed locked together afterward, breathing in sync, my forehead pressed to hers.
"I love you," I said simply.
"I love you more," she answered, smiling through the afterglow.
Afternoons were for lighter edges—ones that felt like foreplay for forever.
I'd cuff her wrists to the headboard with the softest leather, blindfold her gently, and spend an hour worshipping her body. Fingers tracing old bruises that had faded to faint yellow, lips brushing stretch marks and scars, tongue circling her clit in lazy, patient loops.
I'd bring her close—over and over—then ease off, kissing her inner thighs while she trembled.
"How many times today?" I'd ask softly.
"Six… seven… oh God… eight…"
By the tenth she was shaking, thighs quivering, breath ragged but not panicked. These weren't punishments anymore; they were promises.
When I finally slid inside her, slow and deep, she came almost instantly—soft, rolling release that made her glow from the inside out. I fucked her through it gently, whispering against her ear.
"You're going to cum like this every day for the rest of our lives… my perfect, dripping, eternal love…"
Evenings brought one last echo of the old humiliation—but softer, consensual, almost ritualistic.
I took her to the backyard again under a clear sky. No leash. No commands to crawl. Just my hand in hers as we walked naked across the grass.
When we reached the jasmine-covered wall, I pressed her gently against it, lifted one of her legs around my waist, and slid into her in one smooth thrust.
"Remember the first time I made you walk out here?" I murmured, rocking slow and deep. "You were shaking with shame. Now look at you—proud, wet, mine."
She moaned softly, head falling back against the stone.
"I was yours then too… I just didn't know how deep it went…"
I fucked her there under the stars—steady, powerful strokes that made her breasts bounce softly, her breath hitch in sweet gasps. No degradation tonight. Just raw connection.
"Cum with me," I whispered. "Cum knowing this is our forever."
She did—quiet, trembling, her cunt clenching around me in slow, perfect waves. I spilled inside her with a low groan, holding her tight as the night wrapped around us.
Back inside, I bathed her again—warm water, gentle hands, quiet kisses along her shoulders. We dried each other slowly, laughing softly when the towel slipped.
In bed, tangled and warm, she traced lazy circles on my chest.
"I've been thinking about the future," she said quietly.
I kissed her forehead. "Tell me."
"A small wedding. Just us and a few people who matter. No big spectacle. Then… maybe a long honeymoon. Somewhere quiet. Where we can play as hard as we want without worrying about neighbors."
I smiled against her skin.
"And after that?"
"Life," she said simply. "College for you. Work for me. Coming home to each other every night. Teasing. Fucking. Loving. Growing old together—still kinky, still obsessed, still us."
My chest tightened in the best way.
"Sounds perfect."
She lifted her head, eyes shining in the dim light.
"Marry me," she whispered. "Not because I'm your slave. But because I'm your everything."
I cupped her face, thumb brushing her cheek.
"I was going to ask you first," I said, voice rough with emotion. "But yes. A thousand times yes."
She laughed—soft, joyful—and kissed me like the world was ending and beginning at the same time.
That night we made love again—slow, deep, eyes locked the entire time. No toys. No ropes. Just us.
When we came together—quiet, trembling, hearts pounding in sync—it felt like the final piece clicking into place.
The teasing wasn't over.
The hard fucks weren't over.
The dominance, the submission, the filth—they were all still there.
But now they were wrapped in something unbreakable.
Love.
And as she fell asleep in my arms, her breath soft against my neck, I knew:
This wasn't the end of the story.
It was the beginning of eternity.