The weekend was rapidly coming to a close. It never really lasts long enough, and on this Sunday night, facing a busy working week, I sent my weekend fuck home and decided to turn in early for a good night’s sleep.

After showering and tidying the bathroom, I climbed into bed. Thankfully, my weekend fuck had changed the sheets. We’d sure made a mess. When that bitch gets off — damn, she floods the place, squirting like no female I’ve ever known. All I have to do is curl my fingers up inside her and the bitch goes off. 

I turned off the light…

Next thing I knew, my phone was ringing for me to get my ass up. I reached over, turned it off and rolled out of bed, ready for a shower. It seemed only five minutes since I’d last been in there. 

But I must have had a good dream; I’d woken sporting a massive erection. I decided to take care of it in the shower.

I coated my huge cock with soap while thoughts of my wild weekend’s fucking ran through my mind. Grasping my pulsating piece of meat, I began stroking and thinking… about how my cock had torn through her beautiful velvet folds, how her cunt had engulfed my cock. Images of my cock in her warm cunt started my veins popping. I was so fucking hard, it hurt. 

I urgently wanted relief and moved my hand furiously up and down my thick shaft, feeling it getting ever firmer. It had rarely felt so solid and, as my sac drew up tight, I cupped my free hand under my swollen balls, gently supporting and massaging them while the pressure built. I inhaled deeply and held my breath as my cum sped through my pulsing cock like a heat wave. The thick cream spurted from my throbbing purple dome, splattering against the tiles, and I exhaled noisily, thighs trembling, knees quaking. 

The orgasm was so magnificently fierce, I almost lost my balance. I grabbed a side of the shower to steady myself, keeping one hand tight around my hot cock while it continued to pump out globs of cum. Eventually drained, my powerful erection subsided and my cock became very sensitive. I let go, leaving it to dangle between my thighs. 

I stood under the warm water for a few minutes, regaining my strength. What a way to start a Monday morning! Revived, I toweled dry, dressed, grabbed my briefcase, rushed out of the door and got in my car. 

The shower session had been great but it meant I was running late for work and I couldn't go to my regular diner for breakfast and coffee. Instead, I pulled up near a corner deli. While I was waiting to be served, I noticed a young dark-haired woman sitting on the curb. Wearing a sundress of pastel colors, she was hunched over, arms folded across her knees with head bowed and face hidden. I wondered why such a creature would be sitting on a street curb.

“Sir, sir,” I heard the man behind the counter calling me. I placed my order but my focus was on the young lady. I continued on the short drive to work, but I could not get her out of my thoughts. She seemed so out of place, not dirty or poorly clothed like a homeless person. There was something definitely different about her. 

During the day, I frequently thought about the mystery woman. I was intrigued. Why was she sitting on a street curb? She didn’t look homeless. So was something wrong? Would she still be there when I left for home? If so, maybe I could get some answers. 

Leaving for the day, I drove to the deli. I pulled up but I couldn’t see her. I got out of my car, walked to the corner and scanned the area. She must have gone. Maybe she’d had an argument with her husband and was now back home. Maybe, after all, I’d just worried about nothing. Overreacted.

Back at my car, I was about to get in when I saw her. She was across the street on the next corner. I started walking towards her. She was still hunched with her head down and, as I approached, she glanced up and then stood. She started to walk off and I reached for her. She pulled her arm away, like she was afraid.

"Are you okay?” I asked. “I saw you this morning, across the street over there near the deli. You don’t look the homeless type yet you’re here on street corners. Are you in trouble? Has someone hurt you?” 

She didn’t look at me, let alone speak.

I reached for her again. She pulled back, as though terrified of being touched.

'I won't hurt you.” I spoke softly. "I would like to help, perhaps get you home.” 

For the first time, she looked up and I saw her face. She had been hurt. 

“Please, no,” she said, panic in her tone. "I can't go home."

“Well, can I get you some dinner?”

She again started walking down the street. What should I do? If I followed, she might claim I was harassing her. But I didn't believe she would. She looked very scared. Someone had hurt her. What spineless bastard would do that? She was tiny. Frail even. Couldn't be over five foot, maybe less than a hundred pounds. 

I caught up with her in a few strides. “Please, don’t walk away,” I said and she stopped, eyes cast down. “Stay here, while I get you something to eat. Please, don't move.”

She again sat, looking into the gutter, apparently oblivious to the traffic cruising past. I hurried back to the deli, bought a sandwich and drink.

When I got back and offered the food, she reached up for it. I saw more bruising on her arms. What kind of animal would do this? I didn't ask the question. I didn't want to risk frightening her again.

She ate and then, in a low voice, thanked me for getting it before she again stood as if to walk away.

'Where are you going? You don’t want to go home… have you somewhere else to go?"

She looked down, and I just managed to hear a mumbled, “No."

“Look, you’re more than welcome to come with me. I have extra rooms, you can have a shower, get cleaned up and have a good sleep. I promise not to hurt you in any way." I waited but she didn’t move or speak. I carried on, “When you’ve had a rest, you can decide what you want to do. But I think you should report whoever has hurt you like this."

Then she started walking swiftly away. I went after her. The woman was scared to death and needed help. If I left her on the street, something really bad could happen to her.

I kept one stride behind while I talked to her. ”I promise I won’t ask you any more questions,” I said. “If you want to talk I will listen. I can't leave you on the streets. It’s much too dangerous.” 

That finally got her to stop. She looked at me, frowning. Why was this woman bothering me so much? Why didn't I just move on if she didn't want my help?

One last try. “Please,” I almost begged, “come with me, at least for tonight. You’ll be safe, I promise.” 

She cocked her head to one side, gazing into my eyes. Then she nodded. Finally, she’d agreed to go with me. She clearly didn’t want to be touched, and we walked side-by-side to my car. I opened the door and she slid in, instantly bowing her head and resting hands on her thighs. She never spoke or looked up.

On the silent drive home, I began to put pieces together. I believed I knew what was happening, but I had to be careful how I approached the situation if I was to gain her trust. I believed that she belonged to a Master and she’d probably displeased him. He may have hit her and put her out.

Being a Dom, I now recognized her behavior. She knew the correct way to sit, head down and hands on her thighs. We had a connection. It explained why I couldn’t just walk away from the woman. I wished she would confide in me, tell me who did this to her. No proper Master does this to a woman. You don't frighten them, beat them and throw them out, no matter what they’ve done. I felt compelled to help.

At my house, I took her to a small spare bedroom, gave her towels and a T-shirt to wear. It would be like a dress on her, tiny as she was. I told her I would be downstairs if she wanted to talk. If not, she should get into bed and we’d talk in the morning. 

While she was in the shower, I put out some ointment for her bruises. I didn't want to make a big deal of it but I needed her trust and wanted her to know she was safe.

I heard the shower turn off, but she didn’t come down. I guess she was tired and wanted privacy. I knew there was no way out except through the front door. I wasn’t holding her captive but I didn't want her back out on the streets.

I sat trying to figure out what to do. Would her Master be looking for her? I didn't want any trouble, yet I couldn’t stand by and let her be mistreated. There are proper ways to discipline and this surely was not one of them. But, one Master does not get involved with another Master’s sub. It was something of a dilemma but keeping her safe was my concern. Protocol could be dealt with later.

My head was so full of all that had happened, I decided to turn off the lights and retire to my bedroom. When I walked in, my guest lay on the rug in front of my bed, curled up in a ball, naked, sleeping.

I was right, she was someone's sub and this must be the way he’d taught her. I covered her with a blanket and crawled into my bed and watched her for a long time before sleep claimed me. 

I woke to the smell of cooking. She wasn't at the foot of my bed. I got up and walked downstairs. She was in my T-shirt, cooking breakfast, and I stopped in my tracks. 

"Good morning,” I said, realizing I still didn’t know her name.

She quickly turned and immediately dropped her head.

I walked to her and, putting my finger under her chin, raised her face to look at me but she downcast her eyes. 

"Look at me,” I ordered.

She looked at me and I studied her face for the first time. She was beautiful and so young. She appeared of Asian heritage: long black hair, brown eyes, and small features.

“I'm not your Master. I take it that he’s the one that hurt you." 

Tears trickled down her face. I wanted to pull her close, tell her everything would be okay. But would it? She belonged to another man. If I was going to protect her, I needed to know who he was and what were their circumstances. Did he put her out? Did she run away? Knowing she was someone's sub, this wasn’t something I would take to the local police station. It was something I needed to handle.

“First thing, I don't know what to call you. What’s your name?”

“Sonya, Sir."

"Nice to meet you, Sonya. You must tell me what’s happened if I’m to help you. Did your Master put you out or did you run away? Did he beat you?" 

She looked at the floor, turned, and went back to the stove.

"Sonya, I have not finished talking to you."

She took the pan off the stove and turned to me. I saw fear. 

"Sonya, I’m not going to hurt you. But, in order to protect you, I need to know what happened. If you left on your own and he has collared you, I cannot interfere except to keep you safe. If he really put you out, then that is another story. Please talk to me."

Sonya stood looking at the floor, not talking. I decided to let her finish breakfast then sit her down and ask her again. 

"Sonya, we will talk later. I don't want to upset you, but I have to know how to protect you. You are free to leave at any time. I’m not holding you here. I wanted you to get some sleep and be safe. Please, understand, you can leave at any time or choose to stay until you get all this sorted and have a place to go."

Sonya went about finishing cooking and set the table for one.

I sat down to eat, somewhat torn. I knew a sub did not to sit with her Master — but, and this was the point, I was not her Master. However, not wanting to confuse her, I said nothing and ate the breakfast she’d cooked.

Afterward, I told Sonya I was going to shower. While I was upstairs, she could clean the dishes and be prepared to talk when I returned. This business had to be settled today. I could not go against what I knew was right. 

In the shower, as the water ran over my body, I also ran through ways to handle the situation. When I turned off the water and stepped out, Sonya was waiting with a towel in her hands. She began drying my body and I didn't immediately know how to react. One, it is the submissive’s role; two, I really liked it; three, I had to be sure she was released from her Master.

I took the towel from Sonya and saw the confusion on her beautiful face. She clearly felt this is what she should be doing. But I had to make sure of her position. 

I led her to the bedroom. Sitting on the bed, Sonya kneeling beside me, I explained why she could not do these things for me. She had to tell me what had happened, whether her Master had removed her collar, if indeed she was a collared sub. And if he’d really put her out and released her. Or did she leave on her own? I had to know the facts. 

Sonya's head was down while I spoke and I put a finger under her chin and lifted it up. I wanted her to look me in the eye. Yes, I am a Master but I am also a man. I wanted Sonya to understand that I cared about her. Yes, I expected respect but I also wanted her to feel safe and cared for.

Tears tumbled down her face as she told me about her life with her Master. He kept her in a cage in the basement, unless he wanted some play time. He had turned his basement into a playroom/painroom but the way Sonya described things, it was more of a torture room.

He wanted to do things that involved a lot of pain. But the pain was so severe, Sonya frequently had to use her safe word. This eventually infuriated her Master to the point of deciding he didn't want her anymore. That’s when he’d dropped her off on the corner where I found her.

"Master told me not to go back, Sir,” she said.

Sonya had never been collared. It seemed she was bought and sold on a slave market. It was her choice, but Sonya never expected to be sold to such a sadistic Master.

When she’d finished her story, Sonya was in a horrible state. I decided to finish this matter later, but I didn't need to hear any more. I asked her to stand and remove the T-shirt. I examined Sonya's bruised body and then told her to dress. I sat her on my bed and told her to stay there. 

I went to the bathroom for a warm washcloth. Blotting Sonya’s tears with the soft cloth, I tried to soothe her. I slid my arms around her and pulled her close. I wanted her to know she was safe, that she would never be suffering like that ever again. 

"Sonya, how would you feel about becoming my sub? We could set a time frame to found out if we are compatible. Look at me, Sonya,” I said and she raised her head. I nodded, smiled and continued, “I’m not cruel like your old Master, but I do demand respect. I demand certain things to be done.”

I paused, making sure I would have her full attention while I outlined what I expected. “You would be here to totally take care of me, and be used in any way I choose. One thing I will promise you is this: I will never beat you or cause you unbearable pain. Any pain I cause will be a pleasure pain, something you will enjoy. If you’re being punished, that’s something different. But I will never use pain to break you. That’s not what a loving Master does. Take your time to think about it."

"Oh Sir, I don't need time to think about it.” I noticed she clasped her hands tightly, as if in prayer. “Please, please… yes, I would love to be your sub. I would love to take care of you. Master, I promise you won't regret taking me in."

"Sonya, I think you’ve had some troubling days. I really think you need time to think about this. Don't agree because you’re afraid of being forced to go back to him, or back to the slave market. None of that is legal or a part of any respectable Dom/sub lifestyle. Your Master was no Dom. He was a monster.”

I took a deep breath and looked into her tearful eyes. “Whatever happens, I will make sure you’re taken care of. I know a lot of people. Maybe you would like to be free, not be a sub any longer. That is a thought, Sonya. An option for you to consider.”

"Oh Master, I have no clue how to be free nor do I wish it,” she blurted, shaking her head. “My whole life I have taken care of someone. And that is my desire.” She used the back of a hand to wipe away a tear. “Sir, after the way you came for me on the street and rescued me, why, Sir, why would I want to be anywhere but here, taking care of you, being owned by you? Sir, please, please, let me be your sub."

I was impressed with her earnest plea but still thought she may be reacting out of relief. She might need time to properly consider her position. And that’s what I proposed. “Okay Sonya,” I said, “we will have a two-week trial period. If for any reason I don't feel you are working out, or you feel you would like to leave, there will be no questions asked. After that, if you are still here, there will be no leaving. Understood?"

'Yes Sir, understood.” She jumped up and threw her my arms around my neck. Quickly moving back, she said, ”I’m sorry, so sorry, Sir. I… I… I got very excited."

I laughed and pulled her close to me. "It's okay, Sonya, this one time. Now, let me show you where you’re going to sleep.” She looked surprised. “Oh, it’s nothing like that small spare room. Come with me.”

I led Sonya down the hall to a bedroom I’d had decorated in a beautiful pale pink and white. It had a four poster bed, dressing table and mirror, closets, and deep-pile carpet. What woman wouldn't love a room like this? 

Sonya looked around the room, with a bland look on her face. No smile, no delight shining from her brown eyes.

“Sonya, what’s wrong?” I was puzzled by her non-reaction. “Do you not like the room? I thought for sure you would, especially after living in a cage in a basement."

"Oh no, Master, it’s beautiful."

“Then, why the frown on your face?"

"I thought that… oh, never mind, Master — it’s beautiful, it really is. I love it. Thank you.”

"Okay Sonya, but if something was wrong, you would tell me, right? Right, Sonya? No secrets."

“Yes, Master, I would tell you, if that is your wish.”

"Okay, that’s fine.” I looked at my wristwatch, it was almost seven. “I’m going to leave you here to get settled. I need to make some preparations for work tomorrow since I didn’t go in today. Know you are safe here, Sonya. No-one will ever hurt you again."

"Thank you, Master.” She bowed her head.

I walked out of the room, still feeling that something was bothering her. But it seemed Sonya didn’t want to talk about anything. Maybe in time, she would.

Sitting at my desk, going over some work I desperately needed to do, I couldn't get her bastard of a so-called Master off my mind. What the hell was he thinking, beating a young woman like that? I thought about the terror that Sonya must have felt, living with such a brute. I thought about handing him over to the police before he could subject another poor girl to his wicked ways. I realized my hands were clenched into fists and I took deep breaths, getting myself under control.

I couldn’t concentrate on my work preparations. I sighed deeply and decided to turn in early. I showered, cleaned my teeth, climbed into bed and was slumbering when I heard my door open.

"Sonya, is that you? Are you okay?"

“Yes, Master it is me."

"Do you need something, Sonya? What is it?” I suddenly realized that we hadn’t eaten since a lunchtime snack. “Oh, sorry, forgive me. Are you hungry?”

With tears rolling down her face, head downcast and a blanket wrapped tightly around her, she struggled to speak.” Master, you don’t want me, I don't excite you, do I?”

Looking at the beautiful but so sad waif-like young woman, I felt that I’d just crushed her, treated her even worse than that monster.

I got out of bed, walked to Sonya and wiped the tears from her face before reaching down to gather her in my arms and carry her to my bed. Letting the blanket fall, I gently laid her down and settled beside her. Using fingertips, I slowly brushed hair strands from her face and gazed into her brown eyes. 

"You are beautiful, Sonya. How could anyone not want you, cherish you?”

I kissed her cheek, found her full mouth open, and poked my tongue inside to slowly dance with hers. Aware of her bruised body, I caressed a path to her small breasts. Cupping one, I heard her sigh. 

I kissed her with passion, letting her know how much I wanted her. Breaking the kiss, I moved down her soft, quivering body and nibbled on her large, hard nipples. They were not only hard but exotic — very rich dark chocolate pebbles sitting proudly on top of her firm breasts.

Her body arched beneath me, and she moaned loudly as I kissed down her body, over her tummy to her pelvis and her soft mound. I put my hands under her knees and parted her legs, revealing her precious jewels.

I looked at her flower, waiting there, ready to open. I lowered my mouth onto her glistening puffy petals, flattened my tongue and lapped upward, parting them to expose her pink, wet slit. She opened to me like a blooming rose,  her dew flowing, and there appeared the prettiest clitoris I’d ever seen.

I licked her bud, sucked it into my mouth and nibbled her hard treasure. Sonya was now bucking, screaming, and couldn't hold still. She was on the verge of coming but I backed off, leaving her on the edge, wanting her body to calm down. 

"Don't you dare come till I say you can."

When she’d calmed, I again bent to her large, engorged bud. I chewed it, sucked it, and soon she was bucking again. This time, between gasps and thrusts of her hips, she pleaded, “Sir, please… please…”

I relented. "Come for me, baby girl, come.”

I sucked hard and, with her hips raised, I slid a thumb slid into her back hole. She came like a fire had been set under her, shaking and quivering uncontrollably. I never let up. Continuing to suck her bud, she came again and then I looked up, watching her face while the orgasm rolled through her until she went limp, her legs twitching, fingers gripping the bedclothes.

Before she had time to fully recover, I moved on top, pointing my huge purple helmet at her entrance. I was so hard, my veins stood out along my throbbing thick shaft. I slid into her velvet lining and her vagina immediately grasped my cock and squeezed it, drawing my cum up to the hard head. It was like I had no control, her vagina was in charge. With raised hips, she met my thrusts with rare energy and strength. There’s a power war going on, my cock and her muscles.

After thrusting fiercely for another minute or so, I suddenly pulled out and flipped Sonya onto her hands and knees. I spit on her brown tight hole, opened it with my thumb, and poised my cock for penetration. I entered slowly, letting her get used to me, but Sonya pushed back quickly, and I went in all the way. She worked her muscles again, squeezing me. Soon, we were both near. 

I pounded deep into Sonya’s back hole while she rubbed her clit and, with one final powerful plunge, I shot ropes of cum inside her ass, and she screamed, pushing back into my groin, taking everything I had.

Even after ejaculating, I was still hard and I continued to fuck her delightful ass. For her part, Sonya kept working on her clit and thrusting back at me, clearly not wanting me to stop. Orgasms rolled through us, one after another, and even approaching exhaustion, we still carried on, wanting more, not wanting it to end.

But, eventually, our bodies couldn't hold up any longer and we collapsed onto the bed. I was still on top, my cock buried in her back hole, and I felt her clenching me right until I went limp and flopped out of her passage.

I rolled off but pulled her close to me. Holding her tightly, I kissed her deeply. If I didn't know better, I’d say I was already in love with her.

We lay for some time, not saying anything, and I drifted into a most contented sleep. In the morning, Sonya was asleep on a rug at the side of my bed, a beautiful smile on her face. 

I swear she looked like an angel. She was, she is, my angel.