Beep, beep, beep... I fling a hand out from beneath the blankets and
fumble to hit the snooze button on the alarm clock that has so rudely
awoken me from a very sexy dream in which I was tied down to a bench and
Master Steve's cock was buried deep inside me.
Ahhhh, blessed silence. Ten more minutes to sleep and maybe I can finish
the dream. Yawning, I roll over and stretch. As I fling out my arms, my
left hand encounters something soft on the pillow next to me. I open my
bleary eyes, grope for it with my fingers and pick it up. The strong
scent of a freshly cut rose fills my nostrils, making me sneeze. I sit
straight up in bed dumfounded. I look at the blood-red, long-stemmed red
rose I am holding. Its petals are still tightly closed and dewy. Where
did it come from? The previous evening was spent alone in my house
grading papers and doing laundry. My housemate is out of town visiting
his family. Master Steve has been occupied with his job for the past
couple of weeks and I haven't seen him. And he doesn't have a set of
keys to the house.
The fine hairs on the back of my neck stir as I listen intently, trying
to determine if there is anyone in the house with me. The door to the
bathroom off my bedroom is wide open and I can see clearly inside. It is
empty. The only noises I hear are the normal household noises, the hum
of the air-conditioning, the dripping of coffee into the pot.
As quietly as I can, I slide out of bed and reach underneath for the
baseball bat my brothers insist I keep there. With bat in hand, I tiptoe
out of the bedroom onto the upstairs landing. My housemate's bedroom
door is open and his room empty, as is his bathroom. Downstairs is the
same. There is no one else in the house with me. I check the locks on
the front and back doors as well as the sliders leading to the deck. All
are secure. I also check the locks on all the windows. They are all
secure as well and there are no signs of tampering.
I feel relieved that there are no signs that someone has broken in. My
housemate must have come home early and left me the rose. I don't know
why. He knows I belong to Master Steve.
Giving up on the idea of any extra sleep -- I'm too wide awake, I go
back up to my bedroom and make my bed. I place the rose in a bud vase
with some water and leave it on my dressing table. After showering and
dressing, I am ready to face the day.
I grab my briefcase and my car keys and leave the house by way of the
door to the garage. I unlock my car and toss the briefcase across the
driver seat into the passenger seat. I slide in, and there on the
dashboard is another blood-red, long-stemmed red rose. Goosebumps erupt
on my arms as I stare at it. There is a small card underneath.
With relief, I recognize Steve's handwriting on the card. The note says
he misses me and will see me soon. I feel warm and happy as I read his
words. I miss him too. More than I thought possible. I've missed being
in his arms, his quiet confidence and his forceful presence. He has
always me feel so safe and protected when I'm with him. He pushes my
limits, because he knows I need it and that I love serving him. But he
is respectful of my boundaries. There are those who would not understand
the nature of our relationship, but it is right for us and all I know
was that when I am with him, it feels right -- like I have always been
meant for him.
The rest of my day flies rather quickly. Roses keep turning up in the
oddest places. By the end of the day, there are ten of them in all. One
rose is handed to me along with my coffee when I drive through the
Dunkin' Donuts drive-thru on my way to the school where I teach. Another
rose is on my desk. Still other roses are delivered by students who
refuse to say anything about where they come from. I am mystified and I
can't wait to ask Steve how he's done it.
Rose number ten is in my car when I leave school that afternoon. Along
with this rose is another note from Steve: "Be ready to go at 6:00
tonight. My foreman, Todd, will pick you up and bring you to me. We will
be outside, so dress comfortably and be sure to wear sneakers or sturdy
shoes, not sandals. Remember, you are not to wear panties or a bra. You
are to do exactly as Todd requests - just as you would with me. I can't
wait to see you, Baby."
My body hums with anticipation as I hurry home and shower. I take care
to make my body as smooth and soft as possible. It is a warm,
late-summer evening, so I pull on a pair of shorts and a soft,
cotton-knit tank top that shows off my lightly tanned skin. I search for
and find my walking shoes and pull them on without socks. I'm lucky
enough to have thick, wavy hair and I wear it in a wash-n-go style that
requires little maintenance, so I slick in a little styling gel and let
it dry naturally. I add a dash of mascara to highlight my blue eyes,
sweep on a quick brush of blush and slick on some sheer lip gloss. Just
as I am finishing up, my doorbell rings.
I grab my purse on the way to the door and am ready to go when I open
it. I stifle a gasp as I stand face to ribs with the tallest man I have
ever seen. I look up, and then up again. The man standing there towers
over me and at 5'8", I am not short. He is broad and muscular. His chest
muscles and biceps strain the seams of the black Ramsey Construction
T-shirt he wears. His lean hips and endlessly long legs are encased in a
dusty pair of jeans that have seen better days. On his feet are the
regulation steel-toed boots.
The late afternoon sun dances on his smooth, shaved head and his smile
gleams like a white beacon against the dark mahogany color of his skin.
His deep, chocolate brown eyes are surrounded by lashes so long no man
should be allowed to have them. His voice when he speaks is deep and
thick like slow moving molasses.
"Hey, Ms. Lea," he drawls. "Steve sends his apologies that he can't pick
you up himself." He hands me another rose in a hand that is calloused
and strong and so large that the rose seems that much more delicate.
As I reach for the rose, the cell phone attached to his belt rings. He
checks the number and flips it open. Giving me an apologetic look, he
turns slightly away and goes to stand near the porch railing. Taking the
opportunity, I slip back inside and add the latest rose to the
collection.
When I get back outside, Todd hands me the open phone. "It's Steve," he explains.
"Hello, Sir," I say into the phone. "Thank you for the beautiful roses.
How on earth did you manage to have the delivered so mysteriously?"
"Hey Baby, it's good to hear your voice. Sorry I can't pick you up in
person, but Todd will take good care of you." He doesn't say anything
about the roses.
"You didn't have to send someone to get me," I reply. "I could have driven out to the site by myself."
"Nah, the road out to where I am is pretty rough. You'd need a
four-wheel-drive vehicle to get here. I don't think your car would make
it. Besides, I'll be bringing you home later."
At his words and intimate tone, a little thrill shoots through me
straight to my pussy. He then asks me if I have followed his
instructions.
"Yes, Sir, I have."
"What aren't you supposed to be wearing?" he asks.
I glance over at Todd to see if he is listening. I can't tell, so I reply as softly as I can, "a bra and panties."
"What was that?" Steve asks. "I didn't hear you. Say it louder."
I glance at Todd again and repeat myself a little louder.
"What about them? I want you to tell me and make sure Todd can hear
you." Steve's tone is quiet and firm and I know that to hesitate or
disobey will disappoint him and possibly earn me a punishment.
With pink cheeks, I say in a loud, clear voice. "I'm not wearing a bra
or panties." I risk a look at Todd to see if he has heard. He has a
slight smile on his face that tells me he has heard and knows exactly
what is going on.
"Did Todd hear you?"
"Yes, I think so."
"Good girl. Now make sure you obey Todd the same way you would me, and
I'll see you in a little while." Steve disconnects. I fold the phone
closed and hand it to Todd who reattaches it to his belt as he walks me
to the truck.
Todd opens the passenger door for me and with his hands around my hips,
helps me into the high cab. He reaches behind me for the seatbelt and
pulls it down and across me, fastening it securely. As he adjusts it,
his hand brushes my breast, making my nipple tighten. I bite my lip as I
try to discern if he is doing it on purpose or if it was accidental.
When his hand lingers in the space between my breasts, fingers again
brushing my hardened nipple, I know he is doing it on purpose and that
he's very aware of what he's doing to me.
I stiffen a little and he says "Relax Ms. Lea, I don't bite unless I'm asked."
With that, he winks at me, and closes the door. He jogs around the truck
and slides into the driver's seat. The drive out to the construction
site is uneventful and as Todd and I begin chatting, I begin to relax.
Todd is intelligent, thoughtful and has a very dry sense of humor.
When we get to the site, Todd turns off onto a rutted dirt track. "Hold
on tight," he warns. "It's going to be a little rough for a bit." As we
bounce over ruts and potholes, Todd keeps glancing over at me. He seems
fascinated with the way my breasts sway and bounce along with the truck.
My nipples are aroused and dancing against the thin fabric of my top.
Finally after what seems like an hour, but is probably only ten minutes
or so, we drive into a wide dirt clearing where several construction
trailers are parked. Todd pulls up in front of the largest one. He
reaches over and unfastens my seatbelt and reaches across me to open my
door. His intense heat envelops me as he hovers over me and I smell his
unique musky scent.
He pulls back and hops out of the truck. Coming around, he pulls the
door wide for me and hands me down. I turn to see Steve standing off to
the side with a big smile on his face, his arms crossed over his chest.
I pause for a minute taking him in. He is tall and lanky with sandy
brown hair cut in a spiky crew cut. I love to run my fingers through its
softness. His eyes are his best feature next to his smile. A unique
mixture of blue, hazel and green, they are expressive even as they seem
to change color with his surroundings. They shine with amusement and
warmth as he locks his gaze to mine. Everything fades into the
background as I am caught in that intense gaze and I launch myself into
his arms.
"Hey," he laughs as he pulls me close, his hands resting on my waist. He
gives me a much too short kiss and slides his hand under my tank top to
rest on the bare skin of my back as he turns to Todd.
"Was she a good girl?" he asks as his hand slides down to rest possessively on my bum.
"She sure was," Todd answers with a grin. "She was ready on time and didn't make me wait at all."
Steve looks at me proudly. "I told you she would be," he says. After
giving Todd some instructions, he grabs my hand and pulls me into the
trailer.
He closes the door behind us, and pins me against it. Then he is kissing
me, devouring my mouth like a starving man. I wind my arms around his
neck and kiss him back with all the wanting and need that has been
bottled up for the past two weeks.
His hands slide under my top, stroking my belly and making goosebumps
rise before moving up and cupping my breasts. I shiver as he squeezes
them together, tweaking my nipples, sending sparks straight to my aching
pussy. I arch into his hands, reveling in the feeling of his rough
hands on my soft skin. He captures my nipples between his fingers and
pinches just to the point of pain before easing up. I moan into his
mouth, and he sooths the ache with gentler pinches, flicking them with
his thumbs while he trails a fiery line of kisses across my collar bone
and lingers in the sensitive hollow beneath my ear. He lingers there,
knowing it is guaranteed to drive me wild. My knees buckle.
Reaching down, he lifts me, pinning me more tightly against the door and
wrapping my legs around his hips. He grinds himself against me, his
cock straining against his button fly. I writhe, frustrated by the
layers of shorts and jeans, as I feel the heated length of him grinding
against my hungry pussy. My clit is throbbing and I shudder with the
need to have him buried deep inside me.
With a groan, he pulls back a little and lowers me so that I am once
again standing. He rests his forehead against mine and his breath is as
ragged as mine is. "Later," he groans. "We'll take this up later. Right
now I want to show you around the site."
Before we leave the trailer, Steve pulls out a box from under the
drafting table and hands it to me. I lift the flaps and reach in through
the packing peanuts. I feel something hard and rounded. I carefully
pull it out of the box and start chuckling. It is a bright yellow hard
hat with the words "Property of Steve" stenciled on it.
He gently places the hat on my head. It fits perfectly. "I had it made for you. To protect you whenever you visit me on a site."
I laugh. "Thank you, Sir." I lean into him and kiss him, rubbing myself
against him and hoping he will change his mind about waiting for
"later." He catches on to me though and with a sharp spank on my ass,
shoves me out the door.
The tour consists of a brief hike through the cleared areas of the site.
Along the way we meet several of the men on his crew. They gave Steve
knowing looks when they see my hat, but they are polite and flirty. We
run into Todd along the way and he says he will be over to say goodnight
before he leaves for the day. I assume we will be returning to the
trailer, but Steve has another surprise for me.
He leads me through a tangle of brush and trees on a barely there path. I
follow, stumbling now and then over roots. Steve holds my hand so I
don't fall. After a few minutes, we emerge from the tangle to a sight
that takes my breath away. Spread out before us is a very secluded cove
with calm, clear, brilliant water. The white sand is smooth down to the
water's edge where little wavelets lap at the shore. The sun is just
starting to disappear below the horizon. The sky is lit with the
purples, pinks and gold of the setting sun.
"It's beautiful," I gasp. "This is incredible."
"Yeah," he agrees. "The resort will have its own private beach. He leads
me towards a blanket that has been set up next to what looks like the
makings for a fire. There is a picnic basket parked at one corner of the
blanket and a cooler on another. On top of the picnic basket is another
red rose. He takes out a pocket knife, picks up the rose and cuts the
stem down and removes the thorns. He then tucks it behind my ear.
"There," he murmurs, his breath warm in my ear, "Twelve red roses for
the best girl in the world. You've passed your training with flying
colors and made me very proud of you. This night is for you."
I feel the beginnings of tears sting my eyes as he draws me down onto
the blanket. Once we are seated, with me between his outspread legs and
leaning back against his solid chest, he draws out a square jeweler's
box.
"We've talked about your wearing my collar," he says. "And I've
respected your wishes. I know you don't like anything restrictive around
your neck or over your face. But I've gotten you this and I want you to
wear it for me."
With trembling fingers, I take the jewelers box from him. When we met
each other, we had gone over the boundaries of my becoming a sub. I
didn't have many hard and fast rules, but one of them was no
restrictions around my neck or over my face. I am claustrophobic and the
thought of gags or hoods or even a tight fitting collar is more than I
am willing to endure. Steve has agreed to respect that boundary and he
has been very careful during our scenes not to push it.
I pry open the lid. Nestled inside on a bed of black silk is a simple
20-inch gold chain with a small round disc dangling from it. Engraved on
the front of the disc are the words "I belong to Steve Ramsey." On the
back of the disc is today's date. I swallow past the lump in my throat
and nod. "I... I'll be honored to wear it for you," I murmur. He takes
the necklace out of the box and places it around my neck, fastening it. I
look down to see the disc disappearing beneath the neckline of my top
and feel it nestle between my breasts.
Steve kisses the back of my neck where the chain is warm against my skin. "Thank you," he says simply.
We sit like that for a long while, watching the sun set, mesmerized by
the changing colors of the water and sky. The moon rises. It is full and
bright enough to see by. Steve pulls a bottle of white wine from the
cooler. He then pulls two wine glasses from the picnic hamper and pours
the wine. I sip mine, savoring the cool, dry, fruity taste of it sliding
down my throat. It warms me and I drink a little faster than I should
on an empty stomach. By the time I've finished the glass, I feel very
relaxed. Steve pulls out some cheese and some grapes from the basket and
feeds me as I relax into him.
Now that the sun has gone down, it is cooler here on the beach and Steve
gets up to light the fire. Sated, we snuggle together near its warmth.
Steve sits and again draws me between his legs and settles me back
against him. His hands, warm, strong and calloused slid under the bottom
of my tank top and stroke my bare skin. Slowly, he slides the top up
and over my head, baring me to the cool night air. My nipples pebble
with the chill, but are soon covered by his fingers as he plucks at and
teases them. He nibbles on the back of my neck and soon has me writhing
against him. He spends long moments playing with my breasts, squeezing
and stroking, teasing the nipples until they are harder and longer than
I've ever seen them and my breasts are swollen with the need to feel his
mouth on them.
"Hey, Steve," A voice comes out of the darkness, lifting me from my
relaxed daze. I stiffen in Steve's arms as I recognized Todd's voice and
hear him approaching.
I try to grab my tank top to pull it on, but Steve's grip on my breasts tightens. "No," he murmurs into my ear.
He greets Todd and to my shock tells him there is beer and wine in the
cooler and for Todd to help himself and join us. Embarrassed, I hope
Todd refuses, but he comes into the firelight, grabs a beer from the
cooler and joins us on the blanket, seemingly totally at ease. I sit in
Steve's arms stiffly wondering what is going on.
Steve and Todd begin talking about work. Steve's hands leave my breasts
bare to Todd's heated gaze and he lightly trails his fingers up my arms
and begins massaging my shoulders, making me relax against him once
again. I am still not completely at ease with Todd's presence, but the
combined effects of the alcohol and Steve's hands are working their
magic and gradually my inhibitions slip away. Steve keeps his hands on
me the whole time he and Todd are talking. Stroking my belly, my
breasts, teasing my nipples, running them along the inside of my legs.
Occasionally he places kisses in the sensitive hollows along my neck,
his tongue teasing my skin. His teeth nipping and biting. His hands are
incredibly arousing and I begin to drift along in a sensual haze of
sexual longing. Every nerve ending is alive and aching for his touch. I
can feel wetness gathering between my legs and I wiggle a little trying
to adjust the crotch of my shorts so that it will rub where I need it
most.
He feels me squirming, and stops his maddening stroking of my body. I
whimper a little as the cool air touches the skin where his warm hands
have been. "Stand up," he orders in a quiet, no-nonsense voice.
I scramble to my feet without question, obeying him as I've been
trained. Even though I feel a little trepidation about Todd being there,
I can't deny that part of my arousal is because he is there and I know
he has been watching as Steve touches me.
"Take your shorts off and bend over and put your hands on the top of the cooler," Steve orders.
With trembling fingers, I work my shorts down over my hips and off my
legs. Steve takes them and puts them aside as I turn and lean over the
cooler.
"Spread your legs. That's it. Good girl." Steve gets up and stands
beside me. He places his hands one on each buttock and pries them apart,
exposing my pussy and asshole for Todd to see. I feel my face turning
red from embarrassment and humiliation as I hear Todd get up and come
close to examine me.
"What do you think?" Steve asks him.
"Mmmm, that's some nice white pussy you own," Todd answers.
I moan as I feel Steve's finger teasing the opening of my asshole. He
trails his finger down to my pussy and thrusts it into me roughly;
making me gasp and buck back against his hand.
"She's very responsive," Steve says casually. "She's also soaking wet. I
think she's enjoying this." He lets go of me and swats me lightly on
the ass. "Stand up straight and turn around, slut," he orders. "You like
showing yourself off to Todd, don't you? You like him admiring those
beautiful tits and that sweet, wet pussy."
I stand and nod, turning to face the two men, not looking at them, my
face pink. I do like it although I would never have thought that I
would.
"Baby, why don't you show Todd how thankful you are that he brought you here to me tonight?"
I look at Steve, unsure of what he means.
In answer, he places his hand on my shoulder and presses down motioning
for me to kneel in front of Todd. "Come on," he says. "Take out his cock
and show him how glad you are to be here."
I look up at Todd. His dark skin gleams in the light of the fire. Our eyes meet and he winks. "Remember, Ms. Lea, I don't bite."
I summon a shaky smile and turn my attention to the thick ridge outlined
by his denims. I reach up and slowly unzip him. His erection is
straining against the zipper, making it difficult to open. I slide his
pants down and he steps out of them. He wears no underwear and his erect
cock bobs just above me. Stunned, I stare at it for a moment. It is
long and nearly as thick as my wrist. I have never seen a cock that big
and even as I wonder how it will fit, my mouth waters with the need to
taste it.
At first, I don't even try to get it all in my mouth. I swirl my tongue
around the head and lick at the sensitive underside. I trail my tongue
down its length and nuzzle his enormous balls. They are heavy and warm
as I cup them in my hands. I can hear Todd's little moans encouraging
me.
It is not enough for Steve though, for he orders, "Take him in your mouth. Show him how much you love sucking cock."
Stretching my mouth as wide as I can, I take him in. I am only able to
fit the head and a little bit of his shaft in and I still have room to
wrap both fists around him. I swipe at the head with my tongue while I
suck him as deep as I can. He tangles his hand in my hair and gently
begins guiding me back and forth. He tastes salty and slightly tangy. He
smells heavenly. Clean and musky -- he must have showered before
joining us. That's when I realize that Steve has planned for this.
It isn't long before Todd begins to jerk uncontrollably in my hands and I
hear him let out a mighty groan as he cums, shooting his wad down my
throat. Dimly I hear Steve telling me I am not to lose one drop of
Todd's cum. I struggle to take it all without gagging. With a final
gasp, Todd leaves my mouth and sinks down onto the blanket, with his
hands still tangled in my hair. He pulls my head down and once again I
lick his cock, cleaning him.
I feel hands on my shoulders and look up to see Steve standing above me.
He turns me towards him and I see that he's undressed while I was
servicing Todd. He is fully erect and he stares at me with such hunger
in his eyes. He pulls my head forward and with one thrust buries himself
in my mouth. My jaw feels stretched and achy by then, but I love the
taste and feel of Steve's cock in my mouth, so I tongue and stroke him
just as I know he likes. He sets up a steady rhythm stroking in and out
all the while holding my head in place.
Todd sits up behind me and his big hands come around and cup my tits. He
pulls and plucks at my nipples making me squirm as moisture trickles
out of my pussy. My clit is throbbing with the need to be touched, but I
know the consequences of doing so myself. Todd slips one massive paw
down and cups my mound and squeezes. I shudder and almost cum right then
and there. But I am not allowed to cum without Steve's permission and
he hasn't given it.
I turn all my concentration on Steve's cock reveling in the feel of his
cock thrusting in and out of my mouth. I love the salty taste of his
precum. I love the sounds he makes and the way his fingers tighten
around my head as he nears the point of cumming.
Todd slips one long finger into my pussy and I moan at the intrusion. I
struggle to stay still while he fingers me, knowing that if I move I
will not be able to keep from cumming.
Steve's hand tightens in my hair and his hips start jerking
involuntarily. The sounds he makes as he cums are one more thing that
nearly sends me over the edge. I am close to begging to be fucked. My
pussy and clit ache with the need and I want it so much. When Steve
finishes cumming, I clean him with my tongue as I had cleaned Todd.
Todd then pulls me back so that I am lying flat on the blanket. He
places his hands under my buttocks and lifts me, draping my legs over
his shoulders. He stares at my pussy for a bit before teasing it with
the tip of his tongue. I squirm and plead for him to touch me more.
Steve pulls my arms over my head, and holding both of my hands in one of
his, he pins me there and leans over me. He fastens his mouth on one
taut nipple and begins to nibble and suck at it. Todd is now running his
tongue up and down the length of my pussy. Going from clit to my
asshole and rimming it before heading back. He delves his tongue deep
into me on the return journey, scooping out my juices. When he reaches
my clit, he flattens his tongue and laps at it. My hips are arched high
into the air and I'm pushing myself into his mouth. My whole pussy feels
like it's on fire and despite the cool night air, my body is covered
with a fine sheen of sweat.
I am struggling with the need to cum, wanting to last as long as
possible. Finally I can take it no longer and I begin to beg Steve to
let me cum. He pauses his sucking and nipping of my nipples to watch me
beg and moan. He shakes his head and says, "I don't think you're quite
desperate enough yet, slut. Beg some more."
He watches me beg and moan and plead with him to allow me to cum. I'm
shaking; I need to cum so badly. Finally he relents and says, "Cum for
us slut. Cum hard."
I scream and buck as I feel the first wave of my climax flood through
me. It seems to go on forever and I am panting by the time it passes.
Little aftershocks continue to ripple through me as Todd relentlessly
continues his assault on my pussy. Steve lets go of my hands and guides
one to his cock which is again hard. I stroke it, making it grow. He
kneels over my head and once again inserts his cock between my lips. The
feeling of Steve's cock on my tongue combined with the feeling of
Todd's tongue once again lapping at my clit is enough to make me cum
again, my screams muffled.
Steve withdraws from my mouth and Todd sits up. They switch positions
and Steve has me get up on all fours. Kneeling behind me, he buries his
cock deep into my pussy in one smooth thrust. I cry out at the feeling
of him entering me. He places his hands on my hips and begins thrusting
roughly into me all the while telling me how sweet my pussy is and how
much he enjoys fucking it. He jerks me back against him, his balls
slapping against my clit.
Todd's cock enters my mouth again as he reaches beneath me and grabs my
swaying tits. He pinches and rubs my nipples as he and Steve take me
from both ends. I cum again, with my pussy squeezing down on Steve's
cock. He groans as he feels me spasm around him and with a final deep
thrust, cums deep inside me. He collapses over me, resting his forehead
against my back for a moment before withdrawing from me and turning me
over to lie on my back once again. I look into his eyes and see his
desire for me shining through. He lies down next to me and leans over to
kiss me deeply.
Todd once again kneels between my legs and pulls me up. This time he
begins to tease my pussy with the tip of his cock. I stiffen a little at
the thought of taking that monster into my pussy. Steve feels my
hesitation and murmurs into my ear to relax. He knows I can take this
massive cock and he wants me to experience the intensity and pleasure of
it.
Todd trails the head of his cock up and down my slit, coating himself
with a mixture of my juices and Steve's cum before inserting the head
into my pussy. Slowly, he presses himself forward. I moan at the
stretching sensation as my pussy struggles to accommodate him. Steve
holds me in his arms as he watches Todd's long black cock slowly
disappear into me. Todd pauses to let me get used to the incredible
fullness. Then slowly, he begins to thrust in and out. As I begin to get
used to him, he thrusts faster and deeper. I am flying in a sensual
haze, cumming almost continuously. Todd begins grunting as he approaches
his climax. He buries himself one last time before he erupts.
He collapses half on top of me while he struggles to catch his breath. I
am panting and holding on to Steve for dear life. Steve holds me and
strokes my hair, telling me how proud of me his and how slutty I looked
as I took that big cock. He kisses me lightly as I slowly come down.
Finally, Todd hoists himself off me and disappears into the darkness. I
hear him running through the water, then a splash as he dives under. I
think idly for a moment that a swim or a bath would probably feel really
good about then, but I can't seem to muster up enough energy to move.
"Baby, you are astounding," Steve says, his lips pressed against my neck. "You have pleased me well tonight. Thank you."
I smile sleepily and snuggled closer and fall asleep. At some point I
awaken enough for Steve to dress me and carry me to the truck. When we
reached my house, Steve lets us in with my key. He takes my hand and
pulls me up the stairs. In my bathroom, he undresses us both and turns
on a hot shower. Then he places me in the shower and proceeds to scrub
my body from head to toe. I want to help and return the favor, but I
just can't make myself move. I am sore and tired and want to sleep. When
we are both clean, he dries us off and carries me over to the bed where
he lays me down and crawls in beside me. He pulls the covers over us
and turns out the light. In a little bit, I hear him breathing steadily
and deeply and know he is asleep. Only then do I remember that I have
forgotten to ask him about the roses. Oh well, I think groggily. There's
always tomorrow.
12 Nights of Submission
In college, I lusted after one guy for three years. His name was
Jonathon. He was an arrogant bastard knowing he was God's answer to most
girls' wet dreams. Naturally beautiful, his features would have almost
been feminine if not for his broad jaw and constant stubble. A long
tussle of light brown hair always swung down over dark brows and thick
lashes. His piercing green eyes crinkled at the edges when he flashed
his classic lopsided grin. At parties, I'd watch him approach other
girls. They all wore that surprised and satisfied look in their eyes
when he would lean down to whisper sweet nothings into their ears. I
want that look. I wanted him.
Unfortunately, I was one of his best friends. We had met our freshman year after I had a short and forgettable relationship with a guy in his band. As an ambassador, he had showed up one morning on my doorstep. One long muscled arm stretched up against the frame, he'd given me that same cocky smile. He had kind of reminded me of Stephen Baldwin. I had let him in for coffee even though I hadn't taken his friend back.
He seemed fascinated by my lifestyle choices and how normal I seemed, as he would say. The more I explored my agressive side, the more he seemd to come around. Sometimes, he'd show up unannounced on Saturday nights. If I didn't have company, then we'd watch movies. He'd joke and ask who I had beaten that day. I never answered. I'd just laugh enjoying his curiosity and waiting for him to ask. If I did have company, I suspected he stuck around listening to the noise. When I'd hear his knock at the door, I'd always hit, twist or pull harder making my company grunt or groan. I knew he could hear us. Though, he never let me know either way.
It started the night before Christmas break our junior year. I ran into him at a frat party. His band had been playing a few sets. He had drunk too much and was sitting on the front stoop when I arrived. It was late. The wind was cold. His lips were turning blue from wearing only a t-shirt in the snow. Seeing him, I knew his friend, my ex, was in the house and I didn't want a scene. Also, I couldn't let a drunken friend freeze to death. So, I decided to take him back to my house rather then asking his roommates for assistance.
Pulling his arm around my neck, I helped him stumble to my car. His six foot two frame was hard to maneuver. His cologne choked me as he smothered me in a clumsy hug. His large hands roamed my body wildly before I shoved him into the passenger seat. Aroused and disgusted, I slammed the door.
In the car, he began to provoke me.
"You know you want me?" he murmured running his hand up my thigh. "I see it in your eyes, baby."
"You are a sloppy pathetic drunk," I shot back striking his hand with a single solid blow. "You are lucky I didn't just let you die of hypothermia."
"That's what you are into, isn't?" he joked pinching at my breast. "You want to hit me some more don't you? Why don't you spank me? I've been a very naughty ..."
"Shut the hell up," I screamed slamming on the brakes of my car. His head was thrown into the windshield. Then, he was tossed back into the seat with a shocked look on his face. For a moment, he seemed to sober up at the blow to the face. He stared at me as I shoved my finger into his nose.
"Do not EVER fucking touch me again without my permission. You hear me. I will not continue to tolerate your disrespectful behavior. You will sit back in that GOD DAMN seat. You will fasten that seat belt, and you will keep your hands to yourself or I will cut your filthy little fingers off one by one. You hear me?"
"Yes, ma'am," he said slightly dazed.
He snapped his seatbelt and stared out the window quietly the rest of the way to my apartment. When we got to my place, he walk to the door by himself with his shoulders slumped over sulking. Inside, I could feel his eyes on me. I walked straight to the back of the apartment to the bathroom to wash my face. There was something different about the way he looked at me tonight. Some people need an excuse their first time. It seemed he wanted to use alcohol. I wasn't going to let him, I thought, as I brushed out my long auburn hair. A soft knock sounded at the door. I could hear him breathing against the other side of the wood. He sounded nervous.
"What?" I snapped.
"I need to piss," he responded quietly. "Please."
"Piss outside like the rest of the animals, asshole."
His steps retreated from the door. I could here the sliding glass on move on the tracks in the distance as he pulled it open. He was obeying.
Pulling off my sweater and jeans, I unsnapped my bra while looking into the full length mirror hanging on the back of the bathroom door. My breasts were soft and full with areolas the size of half dollars. The cool air made my nipples contracted into hard pink knots. I pushed the round alabaster mounds together into gorgeous cleavage while puckering my lips. The promise of the night made the gold in my hazel eyes glitter. I liked the way my reflection had looked.
Running my thumbs over the tips of the erect nubs, chills spread down my back making my pussy contracted with anticipation. I dropped my hand shoving down my white cotton panties. My slit watered under the lush natural red curls of my bush. I could still feel the heat on my palm from striking him. It was warm and slightly stung. Sitting one foot on the bathroom counter, I stuck two fingers of the heated hand in my hole. I leaned my other shoulder on the door to the right of the mirror. I wanted to watch myself cum.
I touched the swollen wetness. I thought about smacking his pretty face as my fingers worked my cunt steadily. My beautiful pussy was spread like an exotic flower. The center was dark pink almost a red that faded into a light pastel on the edge of the lips. The two fingers glistened with my juices. I wanted to break him. I wanted to make him moan, crawl and beg for me. My insides were a silky, soft heat the enveloped my long digits. I massaged the swollen fleshy ceiling pad of my channel. Catching my clit with my thumb, I stroke the cartilage upward while plunging my fingers deeper. The friction built pressure pushing against my bladder. My pussy was hot thinking about him, thinking about forcing his head into my snatch and smearing his face in it. A soft squishing sound echoed off the tiles.
Weak, my forehead pressed forward into the mirror. Eyes closed. My nipple grazed the cool glass. My arm jerked. It hammered against me. An imaged flashed of Jonathon's virgin back taking the first lash. The cool glass pressed into my cheek. The tension built in my cunt. I could see his green eyes sparkling with pain and lust. So, fucking wet, my cunt dripped. I visualized him on his knees before me. God, I was going to fucking explode. I'd make him suck my clit. My fingers went deeper and deeper. That little bitch would lick my ass. My thumb ground and crushed. His tongue buried deep in my asshole. Sticking a finger in my sphincter, I felt something inside me release. Hot lava flowed down my leg. My cunt ejaculation sprinkled the mirror. It washed down my thighs while I smeared it over my belly. I trembled with relief.
After a moment, I gathered myself and reached up for the worn out hockey jersey hanging on a peg. Then, I slipped back on my panties. I looked back into the mirror and winked. No shorts tonight. I wanted to prance in front of him. I'd let him smell my cunt and make him go to bed hard. I'd make him dream about this pussy tonight. He could start his training in the morning when he was sober.
Coming back into the living area, I saw he had passed out on my couch. He laid stretched out face down and shirtless. Smooth olive colored muscles teased me with their flawless form and shape. Exhaling, I grabbed him by the wrists and started tugging on him. Slowly, I managed to pull him into the vacant second bedroom. His head would roll and he would moan as I undressed him the rest of the way. Pulling him over the iron rails, I was surprised he never woke up. He did not even stir as I tied his wrists to the empty bed frame or positioned the boards to properly elevate him. He must have had a lot to drink. After I finished placing the tarp under the bed posts, I turned out the lights and went to bed.
The next morning, I woke up early not bothering to change my clothes and went in to check on my guest. He still slept soundly. His breathe was even and steady with no signs of waking. So, I grabbed the orange bucket from the corner of the room and took it to the bathroom. Filling it with cold water, I returned to the room and tossed it across his stretched out nude body. His eyes flew open startled letting out a curse. Confused, he yanked at his bindings only making them tighter and the veins in his forearms protrude.
"What the fuck?" he eyes were wide like cow's.
"You need to learn how to treat Lady," I replied walking into his view.
"You are shitting me, right?" he grinned with humor in his voice. "You wouldn't play with me like this?"
"Oh really?"
He laughed at me. His smug behavior didn't surprise me. So, I turned my back and walked out of the room. I took my time collecting my toys. I wanted to give him time to absorb the colorless room, to really see the yellow rope tightly knotted at his wrist and ankles and to wonder what was out of his line of vision. 15 or 20 minutes passed when I heard the sounds of him shaking the bed rails. I could feel his anxiety as I crept back to the door. His body jiggled and contorted obscenely trying to break free. The fear in his beautiful face made me feel drunk. I pushed open the door and strutted in the room.
"Untie me," he demanded.
"No."
"What do you have in your hand?"
"I like my things tidy."
The color ran out of his face when he saw the straight razor flick open in my hand. I turned it slowly for his inspection. The clean steel twinkled from the morning light.
"I am going to shave you," I instructed. "Be still. We wouldn't want my hand to slip."
Crouching down between his legs, I set down the razor and a shaving kit. I hummed pulling out and arranging the cream, towel and aftershave. When I pressed down on the button of the shaving cream, the hiss of the foam sent him into hysterics.
"Don't fucking touch me with that!" he screamed. "PLEASE, Don't do this. I am sorry. Please don't. STOP! NO! I'll do whatever you ask. Just don't do this to me. PLEASE... STOP!"
I smirked at the fear in his voice. His begging made me hot and I felt my nipples push out against the inside of my shirt. They itched to be touched. I wanted to reach up and flick the imposing nubs, but I needed to concentrate. Gripping his balls with one hand, I pushed the edge of the razor's handle against his scrotum crease.
"Be still," I spoke softly to him. "One slip and I might empty your sac."
He went ridged and silent. Acknowledging his surrender, I released his balls and picked up his cock. I held him by the base firmly. Then, I took one tight stroke down the right side of his pubic area. The hair split free from his skin collecting in the white foam on the razor. Wiping the razor clean on the towel, I glanced up to see his eyes locked on the ceiling and his jaw clenched ready for pain.
"Now, isn't that better?" I cooed
"Please stop," his voice trembled.
"But we only just begun."
I continued to shave him with smaller strokes. Occasionally, I'd knick him on purpose to see him jump. When I was done, I put down the razor and wiped his cock down with a hand towel. The smooth skin was shining in the overhead light. So, I splashed some aftershave into my hand and patted it over the area. He jumped and spat with shock. Then, as I continued to work his cock he settled back docile. His erection had grown into respectable 8 inches with each burning stroke. Turning his head away from me, his humiliation and desire mixed in the air. I could not resist. I fondled his swollen prick until it was solid rock. Crawling up like purple vines, his veins puffed up begging to be licked. A single drip of pre-cum collected at the tip. He moaned softly arching up his hips slightly.
"What are you doing?" I hissed smacking him hard across the stomach as I rose from between his legs.
"Don't stop..."he begged.
"You're like a mongrel dog desperate for any hole," I chastised. "You disgust me. Look at that silly small cock. Who would want to fuck with that? You are so pathetic."
A seductive red blush colored his cheeks as he opened his mouth to respond, but no words came out.
"Your mouth is gaping like a retard. You a moron?" I laughed not missing a beat. "Look at the little retard who wants someone to play with his tiny prick."
Pulling off my panties, I stepped around the side on the frame to squat down beside his face. My cunt spread wide for him to look inside me. His eyes roved over my pussy and the blush faded. His pupils dilated as his cock jumped back into the air. Seeing his nostrils flare, I knew he was inhaling my musky scent. I smoothed a lock of silky hair away from his temple. Leaning forward, I gently kissed his top lip. My tongue slipped out to glide across his lip. Slowly, he kissed me back. His tongue wrestled mine filling my stomach with butterflies. His kiss was deep and strong. Catching my breath, I leaned back to look into his eyes. They were so filled with intense emotion. I shook my head slowly trying to get back my senses. He disarmed me with his passion and the depth of desires he provoked.
"Tell me if you want me to stop now," I whispered into his ear, "or I will be forced to break you completely."
"Please, show me your world."
He lowered his eyes. My heart jumped into my throat at the ease in which he submitted. So long, I had waited. My lack of patience challenged my self-restraint. I grabbed his jaw and wretched open his mouth. Stepping over him, I knelt with my thighs framing his face. Then, I lowered my slick mass of ruby curls into his mouth. The curve of his chin pressed into my clit as his nose buried into my ass.
"Lick it."
His hot tongue pushed into my cunt. It was thick and determined lapping me eagerly. He was skilled and seemed to be enjoying the service too much. I pushed down harder on his face. Grinding my clit against his chin, it smarted from the stubble rubbing me raw. His chest was so lovely and smooth. I ran my hands down his pecks while smothering him with my cunt. I could feel his excited heartbeat on my palms. Digging in my nails, I tore the flesh in eight uneven scratches up the length of him. He bit into me as a reflex before relaxing. The pain was absolutely exquisite.
"Enough with my pussy," I directed. "Lick my ass. Do it like you need it. Show your Goddess how you'll service her. Tongue deep in the hole. I want you to taste my shit."
His tongue pushed into my sphincter. The band squeezed back before spreading to let him into me. He licked and lapped so obediently. He was hunger to please me. His body flexed and tensed trying to dig deeper. The reality of Jonathon tongue fucking my asshole was overwhelming. My orgasm came quick and hard at the conquest. The juices ran down his chin and throat. His skin glistened with my love. Turning my attention down from his chest to his erection, I watched it bob and wave in the air as he continued to eagerly clean my core waiting for my next instruction.
Unfortunately, I was one of his best friends. We had met our freshman year after I had a short and forgettable relationship with a guy in his band. As an ambassador, he had showed up one morning on my doorstep. One long muscled arm stretched up against the frame, he'd given me that same cocky smile. He had kind of reminded me of Stephen Baldwin. I had let him in for coffee even though I hadn't taken his friend back.
He seemed fascinated by my lifestyle choices and how normal I seemed, as he would say. The more I explored my agressive side, the more he seemd to come around. Sometimes, he'd show up unannounced on Saturday nights. If I didn't have company, then we'd watch movies. He'd joke and ask who I had beaten that day. I never answered. I'd just laugh enjoying his curiosity and waiting for him to ask. If I did have company, I suspected he stuck around listening to the noise. When I'd hear his knock at the door, I'd always hit, twist or pull harder making my company grunt or groan. I knew he could hear us. Though, he never let me know either way.
It started the night before Christmas break our junior year. I ran into him at a frat party. His band had been playing a few sets. He had drunk too much and was sitting on the front stoop when I arrived. It was late. The wind was cold. His lips were turning blue from wearing only a t-shirt in the snow. Seeing him, I knew his friend, my ex, was in the house and I didn't want a scene. Also, I couldn't let a drunken friend freeze to death. So, I decided to take him back to my house rather then asking his roommates for assistance.
Pulling his arm around my neck, I helped him stumble to my car. His six foot two frame was hard to maneuver. His cologne choked me as he smothered me in a clumsy hug. His large hands roamed my body wildly before I shoved him into the passenger seat. Aroused and disgusted, I slammed the door.
In the car, he began to provoke me.
"You know you want me?" he murmured running his hand up my thigh. "I see it in your eyes, baby."
"You are a sloppy pathetic drunk," I shot back striking his hand with a single solid blow. "You are lucky I didn't just let you die of hypothermia."
"That's what you are into, isn't?" he joked pinching at my breast. "You want to hit me some more don't you? Why don't you spank me? I've been a very naughty ..."
"Shut the hell up," I screamed slamming on the brakes of my car. His head was thrown into the windshield. Then, he was tossed back into the seat with a shocked look on his face. For a moment, he seemed to sober up at the blow to the face. He stared at me as I shoved my finger into his nose.
"Do not EVER fucking touch me again without my permission. You hear me. I will not continue to tolerate your disrespectful behavior. You will sit back in that GOD DAMN seat. You will fasten that seat belt, and you will keep your hands to yourself or I will cut your filthy little fingers off one by one. You hear me?"
"Yes, ma'am," he said slightly dazed.
He snapped his seatbelt and stared out the window quietly the rest of the way to my apartment. When we got to my place, he walk to the door by himself with his shoulders slumped over sulking. Inside, I could feel his eyes on me. I walked straight to the back of the apartment to the bathroom to wash my face. There was something different about the way he looked at me tonight. Some people need an excuse their first time. It seemed he wanted to use alcohol. I wasn't going to let him, I thought, as I brushed out my long auburn hair. A soft knock sounded at the door. I could hear him breathing against the other side of the wood. He sounded nervous.
"What?" I snapped.
"I need to piss," he responded quietly. "Please."
"Piss outside like the rest of the animals, asshole."
His steps retreated from the door. I could here the sliding glass on move on the tracks in the distance as he pulled it open. He was obeying.
Pulling off my sweater and jeans, I unsnapped my bra while looking into the full length mirror hanging on the back of the bathroom door. My breasts were soft and full with areolas the size of half dollars. The cool air made my nipples contracted into hard pink knots. I pushed the round alabaster mounds together into gorgeous cleavage while puckering my lips. The promise of the night made the gold in my hazel eyes glitter. I liked the way my reflection had looked.
Running my thumbs over the tips of the erect nubs, chills spread down my back making my pussy contracted with anticipation. I dropped my hand shoving down my white cotton panties. My slit watered under the lush natural red curls of my bush. I could still feel the heat on my palm from striking him. It was warm and slightly stung. Sitting one foot on the bathroom counter, I stuck two fingers of the heated hand in my hole. I leaned my other shoulder on the door to the right of the mirror. I wanted to watch myself cum.
I touched the swollen wetness. I thought about smacking his pretty face as my fingers worked my cunt steadily. My beautiful pussy was spread like an exotic flower. The center was dark pink almost a red that faded into a light pastel on the edge of the lips. The two fingers glistened with my juices. I wanted to break him. I wanted to make him moan, crawl and beg for me. My insides were a silky, soft heat the enveloped my long digits. I massaged the swollen fleshy ceiling pad of my channel. Catching my clit with my thumb, I stroke the cartilage upward while plunging my fingers deeper. The friction built pressure pushing against my bladder. My pussy was hot thinking about him, thinking about forcing his head into my snatch and smearing his face in it. A soft squishing sound echoed off the tiles.
Weak, my forehead pressed forward into the mirror. Eyes closed. My nipple grazed the cool glass. My arm jerked. It hammered against me. An imaged flashed of Jonathon's virgin back taking the first lash. The cool glass pressed into my cheek. The tension built in my cunt. I could see his green eyes sparkling with pain and lust. So, fucking wet, my cunt dripped. I visualized him on his knees before me. God, I was going to fucking explode. I'd make him suck my clit. My fingers went deeper and deeper. That little bitch would lick my ass. My thumb ground and crushed. His tongue buried deep in my asshole. Sticking a finger in my sphincter, I felt something inside me release. Hot lava flowed down my leg. My cunt ejaculation sprinkled the mirror. It washed down my thighs while I smeared it over my belly. I trembled with relief.
After a moment, I gathered myself and reached up for the worn out hockey jersey hanging on a peg. Then, I slipped back on my panties. I looked back into the mirror and winked. No shorts tonight. I wanted to prance in front of him. I'd let him smell my cunt and make him go to bed hard. I'd make him dream about this pussy tonight. He could start his training in the morning when he was sober.
Coming back into the living area, I saw he had passed out on my couch. He laid stretched out face down and shirtless. Smooth olive colored muscles teased me with their flawless form and shape. Exhaling, I grabbed him by the wrists and started tugging on him. Slowly, I managed to pull him into the vacant second bedroom. His head would roll and he would moan as I undressed him the rest of the way. Pulling him over the iron rails, I was surprised he never woke up. He did not even stir as I tied his wrists to the empty bed frame or positioned the boards to properly elevate him. He must have had a lot to drink. After I finished placing the tarp under the bed posts, I turned out the lights and went to bed.
The next morning, I woke up early not bothering to change my clothes and went in to check on my guest. He still slept soundly. His breathe was even and steady with no signs of waking. So, I grabbed the orange bucket from the corner of the room and took it to the bathroom. Filling it with cold water, I returned to the room and tossed it across his stretched out nude body. His eyes flew open startled letting out a curse. Confused, he yanked at his bindings only making them tighter and the veins in his forearms protrude.
"What the fuck?" he eyes were wide like cow's.
"You need to learn how to treat Lady," I replied walking into his view.
"You are shitting me, right?" he grinned with humor in his voice. "You wouldn't play with me like this?"
"Oh really?"
He laughed at me. His smug behavior didn't surprise me. So, I turned my back and walked out of the room. I took my time collecting my toys. I wanted to give him time to absorb the colorless room, to really see the yellow rope tightly knotted at his wrist and ankles and to wonder what was out of his line of vision. 15 or 20 minutes passed when I heard the sounds of him shaking the bed rails. I could feel his anxiety as I crept back to the door. His body jiggled and contorted obscenely trying to break free. The fear in his beautiful face made me feel drunk. I pushed open the door and strutted in the room.
"Untie me," he demanded.
"No."
"What do you have in your hand?"
"I like my things tidy."
The color ran out of his face when he saw the straight razor flick open in my hand. I turned it slowly for his inspection. The clean steel twinkled from the morning light.
"I am going to shave you," I instructed. "Be still. We wouldn't want my hand to slip."
Crouching down between his legs, I set down the razor and a shaving kit. I hummed pulling out and arranging the cream, towel and aftershave. When I pressed down on the button of the shaving cream, the hiss of the foam sent him into hysterics.
"Don't fucking touch me with that!" he screamed. "PLEASE, Don't do this. I am sorry. Please don't. STOP! NO! I'll do whatever you ask. Just don't do this to me. PLEASE... STOP!"
I smirked at the fear in his voice. His begging made me hot and I felt my nipples push out against the inside of my shirt. They itched to be touched. I wanted to reach up and flick the imposing nubs, but I needed to concentrate. Gripping his balls with one hand, I pushed the edge of the razor's handle against his scrotum crease.
"Be still," I spoke softly to him. "One slip and I might empty your sac."
He went ridged and silent. Acknowledging his surrender, I released his balls and picked up his cock. I held him by the base firmly. Then, I took one tight stroke down the right side of his pubic area. The hair split free from his skin collecting in the white foam on the razor. Wiping the razor clean on the towel, I glanced up to see his eyes locked on the ceiling and his jaw clenched ready for pain.
"Now, isn't that better?" I cooed
"Please stop," his voice trembled.
"But we only just begun."
I continued to shave him with smaller strokes. Occasionally, I'd knick him on purpose to see him jump. When I was done, I put down the razor and wiped his cock down with a hand towel. The smooth skin was shining in the overhead light. So, I splashed some aftershave into my hand and patted it over the area. He jumped and spat with shock. Then, as I continued to work his cock he settled back docile. His erection had grown into respectable 8 inches with each burning stroke. Turning his head away from me, his humiliation and desire mixed in the air. I could not resist. I fondled his swollen prick until it was solid rock. Crawling up like purple vines, his veins puffed up begging to be licked. A single drip of pre-cum collected at the tip. He moaned softly arching up his hips slightly.
"What are you doing?" I hissed smacking him hard across the stomach as I rose from between his legs.
"Don't stop..."he begged.
"You're like a mongrel dog desperate for any hole," I chastised. "You disgust me. Look at that silly small cock. Who would want to fuck with that? You are so pathetic."
A seductive red blush colored his cheeks as he opened his mouth to respond, but no words came out.
"Your mouth is gaping like a retard. You a moron?" I laughed not missing a beat. "Look at the little retard who wants someone to play with his tiny prick."
Pulling off my panties, I stepped around the side on the frame to squat down beside his face. My cunt spread wide for him to look inside me. His eyes roved over my pussy and the blush faded. His pupils dilated as his cock jumped back into the air. Seeing his nostrils flare, I knew he was inhaling my musky scent. I smoothed a lock of silky hair away from his temple. Leaning forward, I gently kissed his top lip. My tongue slipped out to glide across his lip. Slowly, he kissed me back. His tongue wrestled mine filling my stomach with butterflies. His kiss was deep and strong. Catching my breath, I leaned back to look into his eyes. They were so filled with intense emotion. I shook my head slowly trying to get back my senses. He disarmed me with his passion and the depth of desires he provoked.
"Tell me if you want me to stop now," I whispered into his ear, "or I will be forced to break you completely."
"Please, show me your world."
He lowered his eyes. My heart jumped into my throat at the ease in which he submitted. So long, I had waited. My lack of patience challenged my self-restraint. I grabbed his jaw and wretched open his mouth. Stepping over him, I knelt with my thighs framing his face. Then, I lowered my slick mass of ruby curls into his mouth. The curve of his chin pressed into my clit as his nose buried into my ass.
"Lick it."
His hot tongue pushed into my cunt. It was thick and determined lapping me eagerly. He was skilled and seemed to be enjoying the service too much. I pushed down harder on his face. Grinding my clit against his chin, it smarted from the stubble rubbing me raw. His chest was so lovely and smooth. I ran my hands down his pecks while smothering him with my cunt. I could feel his excited heartbeat on my palms. Digging in my nails, I tore the flesh in eight uneven scratches up the length of him. He bit into me as a reflex before relaxing. The pain was absolutely exquisite.
"Enough with my pussy," I directed. "Lick my ass. Do it like you need it. Show your Goddess how you'll service her. Tongue deep in the hole. I want you to taste my shit."
His tongue pushed into my sphincter. The band squeezed back before spreading to let him into me. He licked and lapped so obediently. He was hunger to please me. His body flexed and tensed trying to dig deeper. The reality of Jonathon tongue fucking my asshole was overwhelming. My orgasm came quick and hard at the conquest. The juices ran down his chin and throat. His skin glistened with my love. Turning my attention down from his chest to his erection, I watched it bob and wave in the air as he continued to eagerly clean my core waiting for my next instruction.
11:48
Six years had been invested in her, and she had definitely become a
model slave. The rebellious college student had certainly learned
discipline, and from that point, everything else began to fall into
place.
"I am very, very proud of you," I praised her as I gave her a crushing hug; her soft groan was laced with a tangible happiness. "I know that it's been a long six years for you, but look at just how far you've come in that time. While you still have occasional moments of rebellion in you, you are definitely a wonderful slave. Life isn't about you anyone, it's about someone else's happiness and well-being. Without a doubt, you've taken quite well now to your role, and you definitely deserve to be rewarded for all your effort over these past six years."
The way she beamed when I finally released her from My grasp warmed My heart. Yes, I was quite sadistic, and tended to joke that I have "a heart of coal," but I definitely had a soft spot for her beaming eyes full of love and happiness and a desire to serve.
she was already naked, save for the ever-present thin ring of metal surrounding her neck. That was good, for her reward would be easier to achieve while she was naked.
"If I remember correctly," I said, gazing into her violet eyes as I gently caressed a bare breast, "you were both at 2:48PM, right?"
"Yes, Master, i was," she replied softly, trying not to close her eyes to better focus on My caressing hand.
"Good." I dipped My head to kiss her cheek, then took her hand in Mine and guided My dutiful slave to the Master bedroom. That was when she knew that something special was definitely about to happen, for the only time she was ever allowed in the Master bedroom was when I had specifically invited her to cross the threshold. This time, I did not insist that she crawl into the Master bedroom - instead, I stopped, picked her up in My arms, and carried her across the threshold, just as I had done on the day of O/our wedding.
Carefully, I deposited her at the center of the bed. she was such a short and thin person that she seemed incredibly tiny at the center of the king-size bed. As I stepped away from the bed, I kept My eyes trained on her, admiring her, once again studying her graceful curves, warmed by the smile upon her lips and in her eyes. The Asian beauty watched Me in return, shameless in her nudity while undressing Me with her eyes.
At last, I sat in the recliner in the corner, pulling back on the handle to stretch My legs. Already My arousal was evident as a slight and growing bump at the front of My jeans, and My position in the recliner probably made it even more evident.
"Touch yourself," I commanded her, and My slave obeyed, repositioning herself so that I could see directly between her spread legs and watch intently as she complied. As her arousal increased as signaled by the glistening of her sex, My arousal increased as evidenced by the prominent bulge at the front of My jeans.
It did not take very long for My slave's scent to fill My nostrils. Each inhalation further filled My heart, further warming Me. her scent carried with it her devotion and her dedication, and it further enhanced her external and internal beauty. Not long afterward, the first whimpers of passion reached My attentive ears.
As My slave had learned very early in her training, there are many, many ways one can suffer. While I craved her physical pain and the accompanying struggles and screams and tears, I also found a special joy in her suffering from pleasure, and that was one particular form of suffering which she had endured almost daily for a full year, for her previous orgasm was on her birthday one year earlier.
...and the moment of her annual orgasm was nearly at hand.
I had not told her that she would only be permitted on orgasm per year. But after so much time had passed since her last orgasm, I believe she instinctively knew. she most likely hoped that if I only gave her a single present for her birthday, it would be an orgasm.
"Look at the clock," I instructed My slave, and she turned her head to the digital clock atop the dresser. "Only at 11:48 may you finally succumb to an orgasm, and you have only that minute to enjoy it. By 11:49, that's at. One orgasm for up to one minute... and no longer. Is that clear, slave?"
"Y-yes, Master." her voice was breathy already, and her pleasurable suffering had only just begun.
I was hard. There was a definite throbbing within My jeans, a pulsing echoing My heartbeat.
The reason was the young Asian woman masturbating on the bed. Glancing at the clock, I saw that nearly fifteen minutes had passed since I had first ordered her to touch herself. Using one hand to rub her clitoris and the other hand to probe inside her wanton body, she was breathing somewhat hard, her eyes only partially open whenever she looked at Me. her nipples were as hard as small pebbles atop the breasts which quivered with her movements of her arms as she pleasured herself and writhed in instinctive response.
Part of Me has always enjoyed witnessing a woman increasing her own arousal, especially when she is also quite vocal. While My slave was not naturally vocal, I knew that her will to remain quiet was going to crumble soon, if for no other reason than to maintain her will to fend off the impending orgasm.
The latter was key, for while this was the day she would celebrate both her twenty-fifth birthday and her first orgasm since her twenty-fourth birthday, she still could not disobey one of the most fundamental rules of her slavery: Only with My explicit permission could she allow herself to climax.
My sadistic heart would quite likely overflow with appreciation and love when she finally began to verbally beg. I eagerly anticipated hearing her high-pitched voice whining between heavy breaths and frustrated teeth-clenched groans while watching her hands continuing to busy themselves between her legs and enjoying how she thrashed about on the massive bed.
But first, I planned to torment her, to make her suffer psychologically.
The DVD was already loaded. Finally and semi-reluctantly rising from the recliner, I moved to turn on the television, then turn on the DVD player, and finally set the DVD to Play. I specifically looked at My slave, watching her closely, enjoying how she was trying to remain on her back with her legs spread even though her body wanted to curl into a ball with her thighs clamped tightly around her questing hands.
"Look at the screen," I instructed My self-pleasuring slave, and she did, her eyes widening greatly.
she saw herself on her birthday one year earlier. The slave on the screen was naked save for a thin metal collar. she squatted over a Sybian, her forearms bound together behind her back, ropes essentially forming a bra and also confining her upper arms to her sides while toothed clamps tortured her proud nipples and a blindfold forced her to focus on the clamps and on the dual vibrating protrusions rising into her rocking body as I knelt behind her, holding her steady as the Sybian tried to force an orgasm from her. The young woman on the scream was bucking hard, squirming roughly and spewing lewd sounds from her lips as she tried to wait for the required permission.
The slave on the bed could not hear, but she probably remembered how, one year earlier, I had whispered into her ear, "Cum for Me!"
The slave on the screen screamed shrilly from her powerful release while the slave on the bed thrashed about from her unfulfilled need. The two situations were beautiful separately and absolutely glorious in combination.
As the slave on the screen began to calm, the DVD stopped, and began to play the scene again.
Ten more minutes passed as the slave on the bed was tormented by her own orgasmic cries from one year earlier.
Finally, she broke. she begged Me to give her permission to finally enjoy an orgasm, the first in a year.
"11:48," I reminded her, and once My statement had sunk into her desperate mind, she looked at the clock atop the dresser and groaned loudly, tears emerging from her eyes. I smirked, the prominent bulge at the front of My jeans announcing that I was thoroughly enjoying My slave's lustful, desperate plight.
I stood there a bit longer, watching, listening, inhaling. "Don't stop," I warned her as I finally made My way out of the Master bedroom. Even from downstairs, I could hear her desperate cries, and she continued to beg even though I was no longer with her. I craved it all, devouring her pleasurable despair. Even from the basement dungeon, I could hear her, faintly, but I could no longer hear her cries from one year earlier.
When I returned to My still-masturbating slave, her natural scent was incredibly pungent in the Master bedroom, filling the air nicely. I brought with Me the thick red ribbed dildo which stretches her nicely and the powerful wand-style vibrator which would certainly send her over the edge as soon as she touched it to her clitoris. "Move your hands away," I instructed her, and she thanked Me with her eyes as her hands settled on her heaving stomach.
When I reached her, I first handed My slave the thick dildo. "Put it in." Despite her thorough wetness, it still took her a little effort to fill her sex to capacity. Panting and groaning, there was no doubt that she was being stretched, that clenching the massive toy gave her both pleasure and discomfort, but the screams from one year earlier clearly still caused her some torment - to My delight - for My slave's eyes kept briefly returning to the screen of the large television beyond the foot of the massive bed.
I turned on the wand-style vibrator, instantly using full power, knowing that the batteries within would be drained rather soon. "Hold this," I insisted, and she did, purposely not touching the vibrating end to her body - but I also had not yet commanded her to do so.
I began to undress. "At 11:47," I informed her, "you are to hold that vibrator to your clit. If you want, you can use the other hand to keep that big dildo inside you. But remember that under no circumstances are you to orgasm until 11:48, and your orgasm must be done by 11:49. Understood?"
"Y-y-yes, S-sir!"
As soon as I was fully naked, I mounted the king-size bed and straddled My slave. her eyes were still pleading, even though her voice had been reduced to whimpers and moans as she certainly kept clenching around the hefty ribbed dildo inside her. For maybe a minute, I used her mouth, coating much of My length with her saliva and also giving her a little bit of distraction from the screams and from the penetration. Twice I gagged her briefly, hinting once again that I wanted her to learn to deepthroat Me, but I planned for those daily lessons to begin in earnest following her birthday.
Finally withdrawing from My slave's wonderful mouth, I began to stroke Myself, and with a glance at the clock, I saw that it was nearly time. "Watch the clock," I ordered her.
I did not need to look at the digital clock to know when 11:47 had arrived, for the way her body suddenly lurched between My legs made that moment quite evident. For several seconds, her mouth was open wide in a voiceless scream, and then her current voice joined her year-old voice in a seductive duet.
I splattered My slave's beautiful face and shiny hair. I remained silent as I enjoyed an orgasm, adding just one more layer of torment to her predicament. she thrashed about beneath Me, moving more than ever before as she fought to hold back her moment of pleasure just a little longer, just a few more seconds...
Turning My head, I watched the digital numbers, waiting, and at 11:48, exactly twenty-five years after her birth, My slave plummeted deep into the abyss of bliss. her hard-tipped breasts shook violently as she twisted and bucked like a bronco in a rodeo. her screams were almost piercing given the high natural pitch of her voice. The bed protested, its sounds almost entirely masked by her beautiful outburst. her reddened face flipped from side to side as she rode the tsunami within her, her eyes open but probably unseeing. After all this build-up and after such an unusually-long time since her last orgasm, her body was truly primed, for one orgasm melded into a second into a third into a fourth, all in the space of a minute.
When the clock changed to show 11:49, she was still in the throes of ecstasy, her eyes clamped shut, her voice weakening as she rode the tsunami of yet another orgasm.
"The clock!" I yelled at her, but it still took several seconds for My words to break through the deluge of pleasure and cause her to focus on the clock again. Instantly, I heard the vibrator's pitch change as it was tossed aside, landing on the floor and continuing its purpose by stimulating the carpet.
As My slave recovered, I stood and turned off the television and the DVD player, then began to redress. she was still breathing hard, curled into a ball at the center of the massive bed, a hand cupping her well-exercised clitoris. "Come downstairs when you're ready," I told her calmly, "and you can take out the dildo whenever you want."
Nearly two hours passed before she appeared in the living room, exhaustion still evident in her eyes and in her body language. Like a good slave, she knelt on the pillow beside My chair, looking up at Me with love and with concern.
"What's on your mind, slave?" I asked her soothingly, reaching out to stroke her chestnut hair.
Despite the six years of training, she hesitated this time before answering. "Thank you for the orgasmic minute, Master, but now i need to be punished."
"Why is that?"
she hesitated again, taking a deep breath to center herself. "i definitely had more than one orgasm - too many for me to count, Sir. And it did not end before the time changed to 11:49, Master. i deserve to be punished."
"Perhaps," I mused aloud, "but after lasting an entire year without a single orgasm, I think that is above and beyond the normal expectations of a slave, so in this specific case, I believe a punishment is not warranted."
Sweetly, she smiled, her exhaustion still evident in her eyes. "Thank You for Your understanding, Master."
"Thank you for being such a fine slave," I returned. "Now go get Me a Coke."
"Yes, Sir!" she practically sprang up to her feet, still exhausted but with a burst of energy characteristic of the slave I knew and loved.
"I am very, very proud of you," I praised her as I gave her a crushing hug; her soft groan was laced with a tangible happiness. "I know that it's been a long six years for you, but look at just how far you've come in that time. While you still have occasional moments of rebellion in you, you are definitely a wonderful slave. Life isn't about you anyone, it's about someone else's happiness and well-being. Without a doubt, you've taken quite well now to your role, and you definitely deserve to be rewarded for all your effort over these past six years."
The way she beamed when I finally released her from My grasp warmed My heart. Yes, I was quite sadistic, and tended to joke that I have "a heart of coal," but I definitely had a soft spot for her beaming eyes full of love and happiness and a desire to serve.
she was already naked, save for the ever-present thin ring of metal surrounding her neck. That was good, for her reward would be easier to achieve while she was naked.
"If I remember correctly," I said, gazing into her violet eyes as I gently caressed a bare breast, "you were both at 2:48PM, right?"
"Yes, Master, i was," she replied softly, trying not to close her eyes to better focus on My caressing hand.
"Good." I dipped My head to kiss her cheek, then took her hand in Mine and guided My dutiful slave to the Master bedroom. That was when she knew that something special was definitely about to happen, for the only time she was ever allowed in the Master bedroom was when I had specifically invited her to cross the threshold. This time, I did not insist that she crawl into the Master bedroom - instead, I stopped, picked her up in My arms, and carried her across the threshold, just as I had done on the day of O/our wedding.
Carefully, I deposited her at the center of the bed. she was such a short and thin person that she seemed incredibly tiny at the center of the king-size bed. As I stepped away from the bed, I kept My eyes trained on her, admiring her, once again studying her graceful curves, warmed by the smile upon her lips and in her eyes. The Asian beauty watched Me in return, shameless in her nudity while undressing Me with her eyes.
At last, I sat in the recliner in the corner, pulling back on the handle to stretch My legs. Already My arousal was evident as a slight and growing bump at the front of My jeans, and My position in the recliner probably made it even more evident.
"Touch yourself," I commanded her, and My slave obeyed, repositioning herself so that I could see directly between her spread legs and watch intently as she complied. As her arousal increased as signaled by the glistening of her sex, My arousal increased as evidenced by the prominent bulge at the front of My jeans.
It did not take very long for My slave's scent to fill My nostrils. Each inhalation further filled My heart, further warming Me. her scent carried with it her devotion and her dedication, and it further enhanced her external and internal beauty. Not long afterward, the first whimpers of passion reached My attentive ears.
As My slave had learned very early in her training, there are many, many ways one can suffer. While I craved her physical pain and the accompanying struggles and screams and tears, I also found a special joy in her suffering from pleasure, and that was one particular form of suffering which she had endured almost daily for a full year, for her previous orgasm was on her birthday one year earlier.
...and the moment of her annual orgasm was nearly at hand.
I had not told her that she would only be permitted on orgasm per year. But after so much time had passed since her last orgasm, I believe she instinctively knew. she most likely hoped that if I only gave her a single present for her birthday, it would be an orgasm.
"Look at the clock," I instructed My slave, and she turned her head to the digital clock atop the dresser. "Only at 11:48 may you finally succumb to an orgasm, and you have only that minute to enjoy it. By 11:49, that's at. One orgasm for up to one minute... and no longer. Is that clear, slave?"
"Y-yes, Master." her voice was breathy already, and her pleasurable suffering had only just begun.
I was hard. There was a definite throbbing within My jeans, a pulsing echoing My heartbeat.
The reason was the young Asian woman masturbating on the bed. Glancing at the clock, I saw that nearly fifteen minutes had passed since I had first ordered her to touch herself. Using one hand to rub her clitoris and the other hand to probe inside her wanton body, she was breathing somewhat hard, her eyes only partially open whenever she looked at Me. her nipples were as hard as small pebbles atop the breasts which quivered with her movements of her arms as she pleasured herself and writhed in instinctive response.
Part of Me has always enjoyed witnessing a woman increasing her own arousal, especially when she is also quite vocal. While My slave was not naturally vocal, I knew that her will to remain quiet was going to crumble soon, if for no other reason than to maintain her will to fend off the impending orgasm.
The latter was key, for while this was the day she would celebrate both her twenty-fifth birthday and her first orgasm since her twenty-fourth birthday, she still could not disobey one of the most fundamental rules of her slavery: Only with My explicit permission could she allow herself to climax.
My sadistic heart would quite likely overflow with appreciation and love when she finally began to verbally beg. I eagerly anticipated hearing her high-pitched voice whining between heavy breaths and frustrated teeth-clenched groans while watching her hands continuing to busy themselves between her legs and enjoying how she thrashed about on the massive bed.
But first, I planned to torment her, to make her suffer psychologically.
The DVD was already loaded. Finally and semi-reluctantly rising from the recliner, I moved to turn on the television, then turn on the DVD player, and finally set the DVD to Play. I specifically looked at My slave, watching her closely, enjoying how she was trying to remain on her back with her legs spread even though her body wanted to curl into a ball with her thighs clamped tightly around her questing hands.
"Look at the screen," I instructed My self-pleasuring slave, and she did, her eyes widening greatly.
she saw herself on her birthday one year earlier. The slave on the screen was naked save for a thin metal collar. she squatted over a Sybian, her forearms bound together behind her back, ropes essentially forming a bra and also confining her upper arms to her sides while toothed clamps tortured her proud nipples and a blindfold forced her to focus on the clamps and on the dual vibrating protrusions rising into her rocking body as I knelt behind her, holding her steady as the Sybian tried to force an orgasm from her. The young woman on the scream was bucking hard, squirming roughly and spewing lewd sounds from her lips as she tried to wait for the required permission.
The slave on the bed could not hear, but she probably remembered how, one year earlier, I had whispered into her ear, "Cum for Me!"
The slave on the screen screamed shrilly from her powerful release while the slave on the bed thrashed about from her unfulfilled need. The two situations were beautiful separately and absolutely glorious in combination.
As the slave on the screen began to calm, the DVD stopped, and began to play the scene again.
Ten more minutes passed as the slave on the bed was tormented by her own orgasmic cries from one year earlier.
Finally, she broke. she begged Me to give her permission to finally enjoy an orgasm, the first in a year.
"11:48," I reminded her, and once My statement had sunk into her desperate mind, she looked at the clock atop the dresser and groaned loudly, tears emerging from her eyes. I smirked, the prominent bulge at the front of My jeans announcing that I was thoroughly enjoying My slave's lustful, desperate plight.
I stood there a bit longer, watching, listening, inhaling. "Don't stop," I warned her as I finally made My way out of the Master bedroom. Even from downstairs, I could hear her desperate cries, and she continued to beg even though I was no longer with her. I craved it all, devouring her pleasurable despair. Even from the basement dungeon, I could hear her, faintly, but I could no longer hear her cries from one year earlier.
When I returned to My still-masturbating slave, her natural scent was incredibly pungent in the Master bedroom, filling the air nicely. I brought with Me the thick red ribbed dildo which stretches her nicely and the powerful wand-style vibrator which would certainly send her over the edge as soon as she touched it to her clitoris. "Move your hands away," I instructed her, and she thanked Me with her eyes as her hands settled on her heaving stomach.
When I reached her, I first handed My slave the thick dildo. "Put it in." Despite her thorough wetness, it still took her a little effort to fill her sex to capacity. Panting and groaning, there was no doubt that she was being stretched, that clenching the massive toy gave her both pleasure and discomfort, but the screams from one year earlier clearly still caused her some torment - to My delight - for My slave's eyes kept briefly returning to the screen of the large television beyond the foot of the massive bed.
I turned on the wand-style vibrator, instantly using full power, knowing that the batteries within would be drained rather soon. "Hold this," I insisted, and she did, purposely not touching the vibrating end to her body - but I also had not yet commanded her to do so.
I began to undress. "At 11:47," I informed her, "you are to hold that vibrator to your clit. If you want, you can use the other hand to keep that big dildo inside you. But remember that under no circumstances are you to orgasm until 11:48, and your orgasm must be done by 11:49. Understood?"
"Y-y-yes, S-sir!"
As soon as I was fully naked, I mounted the king-size bed and straddled My slave. her eyes were still pleading, even though her voice had been reduced to whimpers and moans as she certainly kept clenching around the hefty ribbed dildo inside her. For maybe a minute, I used her mouth, coating much of My length with her saliva and also giving her a little bit of distraction from the screams and from the penetration. Twice I gagged her briefly, hinting once again that I wanted her to learn to deepthroat Me, but I planned for those daily lessons to begin in earnest following her birthday.
Finally withdrawing from My slave's wonderful mouth, I began to stroke Myself, and with a glance at the clock, I saw that it was nearly time. "Watch the clock," I ordered her.
I did not need to look at the digital clock to know when 11:47 had arrived, for the way her body suddenly lurched between My legs made that moment quite evident. For several seconds, her mouth was open wide in a voiceless scream, and then her current voice joined her year-old voice in a seductive duet.
I splattered My slave's beautiful face and shiny hair. I remained silent as I enjoyed an orgasm, adding just one more layer of torment to her predicament. she thrashed about beneath Me, moving more than ever before as she fought to hold back her moment of pleasure just a little longer, just a few more seconds...
Turning My head, I watched the digital numbers, waiting, and at 11:48, exactly twenty-five years after her birth, My slave plummeted deep into the abyss of bliss. her hard-tipped breasts shook violently as she twisted and bucked like a bronco in a rodeo. her screams were almost piercing given the high natural pitch of her voice. The bed protested, its sounds almost entirely masked by her beautiful outburst. her reddened face flipped from side to side as she rode the tsunami within her, her eyes open but probably unseeing. After all this build-up and after such an unusually-long time since her last orgasm, her body was truly primed, for one orgasm melded into a second into a third into a fourth, all in the space of a minute.
When the clock changed to show 11:49, she was still in the throes of ecstasy, her eyes clamped shut, her voice weakening as she rode the tsunami of yet another orgasm.
"The clock!" I yelled at her, but it still took several seconds for My words to break through the deluge of pleasure and cause her to focus on the clock again. Instantly, I heard the vibrator's pitch change as it was tossed aside, landing on the floor and continuing its purpose by stimulating the carpet.
As My slave recovered, I stood and turned off the television and the DVD player, then began to redress. she was still breathing hard, curled into a ball at the center of the massive bed, a hand cupping her well-exercised clitoris. "Come downstairs when you're ready," I told her calmly, "and you can take out the dildo whenever you want."
Nearly two hours passed before she appeared in the living room, exhaustion still evident in her eyes and in her body language. Like a good slave, she knelt on the pillow beside My chair, looking up at Me with love and with concern.
"What's on your mind, slave?" I asked her soothingly, reaching out to stroke her chestnut hair.
Despite the six years of training, she hesitated this time before answering. "Thank you for the orgasmic minute, Master, but now i need to be punished."
"Why is that?"
she hesitated again, taking a deep breath to center herself. "i definitely had more than one orgasm - too many for me to count, Sir. And it did not end before the time changed to 11:49, Master. i deserve to be punished."
"Perhaps," I mused aloud, "but after lasting an entire year without a single orgasm, I think that is above and beyond the normal expectations of a slave, so in this specific case, I believe a punishment is not warranted."
Sweetly, she smiled, her exhaustion still evident in her eyes. "Thank You for Your understanding, Master."
"Thank you for being such a fine slave," I returned. "Now go get Me a Coke."
"Yes, Sir!" she practically sprang up to her feet, still exhausted but with a burst of energy characteristic of the slave I knew and loved.
11 O'clock
I sat at my desk, in my tiny cubicle, on a typical Tuesday morning,
clicking away on my computer. As I edited the spreadsheet in front of
me, my mind drifted to my boss, just down the hall, in his large office.
He was a heavier man, with short dark hair. I found him oddly handsome.
His chocolate brown eyes glared out under dark thick lashes, and even
thicker eyebrows. That's how he looked—he glared. It wasn't easy to find
him in a friendly mood. Not that he was rude. He was just . . .
intense. Besides, I rationalized to myself, he kept a professional
distance. He just didn't like to show his emotions. It made him all the
more attractive.
To be honest, I was still trying to figure him out. I had only been his secretary—sorry, I mean "administrative assistant"—for a little over a month now, and I had a hard time working for him. It took me less than a week to figure out that he despises small talk. Any excessive talking or niceties at all were pretty much useless in his eyes. He also didn't respond to flattery at all. It just made me uncomfortable, because I couldn't read him, or figure out if my work was pleasing him. So here I sat, going above and beyond to impress my boss who hardly noticed me at all.
I even started worrying more about my appearance. Usually, I had no problem working with men. Men were supposed to be easy. They were supposed to be easily flattered that a pretty woman was impressed by them. Or willing to do what I asked when I said it with a smile and a flutter of the eyelashes. I worried that my looks weren't helping me as much as they usually did. So, every morning for the last two and a half weeks, I woke up an extra 45 minutes early to curl my long dark blonde hair, and apply makeup to compliment my green eyes and fair skin. I even applied lipstick every day—something I had always refused to wear.
I went shopping to update my wardrobe with cute matching business skirt suits, and silk blouses that draped nicely across my breasts, and stockings. I was tempted to buy more heels, but I already had a nice collection, and had gone a bit overboard on the skirts. It was a struggle to find them in a tasteful length, so some were a bit short for the office, only coming down to mid-thigh.
I was wearing one of those today, in charcoal grey, with a matching blazer, which was draped across the back of my chair, and a deep purple blouse that made me green eyes pop. I forwent the stockings today, because the tops would have shown and looked slutty with my skirt. I also wasn't wearing panties today because I was behind on laundry and didn't buy any new ones on my shopping expedition. I kept tugging at my skirt, especially when I was sitting, to make sure I wouldn't flash anyone walking by my cubicle.
I glanced at my clock. 10:48. I only had 12 minutes until my daily meeting with my boss. I quickly finalized my report, and sent it to the printer. I stood and smoothed down my skirt and sauntered over to the printer in the middle of the large office. I could feel some of the men's eyes on me as I walked over to get my papers. Conscious of their gaze, I stood tall with my shoulders back and chest out, and added a bit of a sway to my hips. I smiled and made eye contact with a few on my way. It felt like victory when each of them gave a tight smile back, and shifted nervously. They all quickly looked back down at their work like it was the most compelling job they ever had. Making men nervous was always great fun.
After I collected the papers off the printer into a folder, I returned to my desk with five minutes left before my meeting. I could feel myself growing nervous. We met everyday, and everyday, he made me nervous. I would walk to his door, a confident woman, and as soon as I took a single step inside, I felt like a vulnerable little girl. He was always very commanding and he would hardly look at me. I'd stutter through my report and feel like a failure when he dismissed me. All I wanted was to impress him. For him to think I was valuable, and useful. Just sitting at my desk, I could feel my heart beat faster and my hands clam up a bit. I was going to make him take notice today. I would speak clearly, concisely, and assertively. I practiced my little summary in my head, for when he asked.
I stood with a minute to go, and walked tall down the narrow hall to the thick wooden door. I knocked three times, a bit quieter than I had intended. When he bade me entrance, I turned the knob and walked a few steps in.
"Shut the door." I closed it, then turned back to him. He was staring intently at his computer screen. As I watched him, my heart skipped a beat. He really was so handsome. And powerful. I walked on shaky legs to stand by the low leather chair in front of his desk.
"Sit." I quickly obeyed, remembering to adjust my skirt so that I didn't flash him my naked cunt. Now that I thought about it, I felt so exposed. I could feel the cold air on me, and realized that I was really wet. It was something I couldn't explain. It had happened before, when he ordered me around like this. I chose to ignore it. But it was hard. Great day to not wear panties, I sarcastically thought. I just hoped that I didn't make a spot on my skirt. I already felt indecent enough.
I was sitting there, waiting, calming myself down, for about two minutes before he finally turned to me. Our eyes met, and for the tiniest second, I thought I saw something in his. A quick flash of something. Dangerous-like. Maybe he knows, I thought. Maybe he knows that he makes me nervous. Or worse, he knows that I'm sitting here, without any panties on, and a wet pussy, like a slut. The thought made me blush and I quickly broke eye contact to stare at the floor.
"So, Miss Craig, what do you have for me this morning?" he looked at me, noticeably bored with the whole routine.
"T-the typical, s-sir. Nothing interesting today. The numbers are a little off, but it looks like nothing." I blushed again. Damn it! I stuttered. I wasn't going to stutter! It was that damned question that threw me off. It had me thinking of other things I could offer him this morning. Things that might interest him a bit more. I shook my head slightly, to clear my head.
He stood up from his large chair and quietly walked around the large wooden desk, his fingers gliding gently behind him. He came to stand at my right. I was hesitant to meet his gaze again and kept my eyes down. I looked over to find his crotch exactly level with my shoulders, because the chair was so low. I noticed a slight bulge in his pants, and my breath hitched a bit. I could see the edge of the head defined against his grey slacks. I quickly tried to convince myself that he wasn't standing in front of me with a hard on—that's ridiculous. He just must be a bit . . . larger, than I was familiar with. I looked up at his face, tilting my head because he was standing so close, and I saw the recognition in his eyes. I had stared too long! He looked amused. I could feel my face burn with embarrassment, the blush spreading down my chest.
"Stand," he commanded. I did, quickly. So quickly, that I spilled my papers across the floor in front of me and pushed my chair noisily back. I chanced another glance at him and found him . . . smiling? He was close. So close I could feel his breath on the my cheek. I raised my eyes from his lips to his stare. That dangerous look was there. Plain as day. He made no attempt to hide the hunger in his eyes. I could see that he wanted me. His eyes told me how he wanted to take and devour every inch of my body, leaving me sore and broken. Electric heat ran through my body. My face upturned, I let my eyes flutter closed.
But then, he walked away. He just walked away, leaving me standing there stupidly. I felt so shamed and rejected. He took his seat again, and acted like nothing happened. My shoulders drooped, head dropped, and knees buckled slightly. I was an idiot. He is my boss, and now he was sure as day going to fire me! He interrupted my internal monologue with a sharp order.
"Come to the edge of my desk, Miss Craig." My feet made the short steps quickly, kicking the papers I had spilled just a minute earlier. I felt the wooden edge of his desk against the front of my hips. I stood there. Waiting. Praying he would forgive me, or forget that I had just acted like a complete fool. He adjusted himself in his chair and went back to his typing.
Dismissively, he said, "Well, I presume you want more than to just stand there looking desperately horny. Remove your shirt. It will help with the heat." My jaw dropped, and heat rushed to my cunt. I should have turned a heel and marched out of his office right then, like any sane woman. But my fingers flew to the buttons of my blouse. I undid them with trembling hands and laid my shirt on the desk. Then I stood there, in front of my boss, in a bra, skirt, and heels. My pussy was absolutely aching. And yet, he sat there, still typing, eyes still glued to his screen. Was this a big joke? Or did he think I wasn't worth looking at? I just wanted him to look at me, to like what he saw.
"Reach over here and free my cock before it explodes." He kept typing. Was he serious? I needed to get out of here, fast.
"Now." This time, he looked at me. And his impatience was unmistakable. I started around the desk, to go to his chair. He stood before I took two steps, reached across, grabbed my hair in a fist, and forcefully slammed me down against the desk. He lowered his mouth to my ear. His breath was hot.
"I said reach, Miss Craig. Do not disobey me again, or the entire office will see you for what you are." This was my cue to leave. He was psycho, obviously. His hand was still painfully tangled in my hair, I was bent uncomfortably over the desk, but my body didn't listen to my logic. It was as if electricity coursed through my veins, all headed for my bare cunt. My inner thighs had grown slippery from my arousal, and I was acutely aware of the fact as I bent over with my skirt riding up. I listened to my body, and let the logic slip away.
I reached my right arm up to awkwardly unbutton and unzip his pants, his crotch level with my face, his grip tight in my hair. I pushed his slacks down as much as I could and finally manage to pull his cock out so that it unintentionally hit me in the face. Holy shit, I thought, it was huge. I had only been with four men in my life, and none of them measured up. I only had a second to appreciate his massive member before he forced it into my mouth and against the back of my throat.
I immediately gagged, and heard him give a small groan. He pulled out a bit, then pushed right back in, pulling me by my hair further onto his cock. I felt something give in the back of my throat, and he filled me up. He held me there, gagging. I could feel my eyes water and widen. What if he didn't let up? I brought my hand up to push against him. He pulled out of my throat, and I gasped for air. Then he took his other hand and put my arm behind my back.
"You will not touch me again," he instructed. And I didn't dare. He took my mouth again, this time pumping in and out. Fucking my mouth. Fucking my reluctant throat. I gagged and gasped and choked. I tried not to, but I couldn't help it. He barely let me breathe. And then, I felt him push deep again, and his enormous cock pulsed against my tongue, as he let out a strangled groan. Again, I started to panic, with his huge cock cutting off my air supply, and my gag reflex kicking in. I could feel his hot cum in my throat, and I had no choice but to accept it. Finally, when I was about to disobey him, and push him away, he pulled out of me, but with firm instructions: "Swallow it, Miss Craig."
I swallowed, and gasped, and swallowed again. His cum was sticky, and it lingered in the back of my throat as I choked for a decent breath of air. I put both of my palms against his desk to steady myself now that he released my hair from his grasp. I watched as he pulled his underwear and slacks back over his still hard cock and zipped up. He looked at me for a second. His expression was a mixture of amusement and smug satisfaction.
"You may collect yourself and go now. Miss Craig, do not forget to maintain a professional look in my office at all times." With that, he regained his seat and returned to his work. In silent disbelief I pushed myself back up to standing, on shaky legs. My back was stiff from being bent over. My chest heaved as I struggled for normal breathing. I kept my teary eyes downcast as I put my shirt back on and smoothed down my hair. I got to my knees to gather up all my useless papers. I stood, and hesitated, daring to look at my boss, who had just bent me over his desk and fucked my throat like it was a normal occurrence. I turned slowly on my heel and made for the door, taking careful steps.
"Miss Craig," my ears perked up and I turned eagerly to him. "Do not bother to wear underwear tomorrow. I would hate to destroy any of your clothing. And please be prompt for our 11 o'clock meeting." With that, I was dismissed.
To be honest, I was still trying to figure him out. I had only been his secretary—sorry, I mean "administrative assistant"—for a little over a month now, and I had a hard time working for him. It took me less than a week to figure out that he despises small talk. Any excessive talking or niceties at all were pretty much useless in his eyes. He also didn't respond to flattery at all. It just made me uncomfortable, because I couldn't read him, or figure out if my work was pleasing him. So here I sat, going above and beyond to impress my boss who hardly noticed me at all.
I even started worrying more about my appearance. Usually, I had no problem working with men. Men were supposed to be easy. They were supposed to be easily flattered that a pretty woman was impressed by them. Or willing to do what I asked when I said it with a smile and a flutter of the eyelashes. I worried that my looks weren't helping me as much as they usually did. So, every morning for the last two and a half weeks, I woke up an extra 45 minutes early to curl my long dark blonde hair, and apply makeup to compliment my green eyes and fair skin. I even applied lipstick every day—something I had always refused to wear.
I went shopping to update my wardrobe with cute matching business skirt suits, and silk blouses that draped nicely across my breasts, and stockings. I was tempted to buy more heels, but I already had a nice collection, and had gone a bit overboard on the skirts. It was a struggle to find them in a tasteful length, so some were a bit short for the office, only coming down to mid-thigh.
I was wearing one of those today, in charcoal grey, with a matching blazer, which was draped across the back of my chair, and a deep purple blouse that made me green eyes pop. I forwent the stockings today, because the tops would have shown and looked slutty with my skirt. I also wasn't wearing panties today because I was behind on laundry and didn't buy any new ones on my shopping expedition. I kept tugging at my skirt, especially when I was sitting, to make sure I wouldn't flash anyone walking by my cubicle.
I glanced at my clock. 10:48. I only had 12 minutes until my daily meeting with my boss. I quickly finalized my report, and sent it to the printer. I stood and smoothed down my skirt and sauntered over to the printer in the middle of the large office. I could feel some of the men's eyes on me as I walked over to get my papers. Conscious of their gaze, I stood tall with my shoulders back and chest out, and added a bit of a sway to my hips. I smiled and made eye contact with a few on my way. It felt like victory when each of them gave a tight smile back, and shifted nervously. They all quickly looked back down at their work like it was the most compelling job they ever had. Making men nervous was always great fun.
After I collected the papers off the printer into a folder, I returned to my desk with five minutes left before my meeting. I could feel myself growing nervous. We met everyday, and everyday, he made me nervous. I would walk to his door, a confident woman, and as soon as I took a single step inside, I felt like a vulnerable little girl. He was always very commanding and he would hardly look at me. I'd stutter through my report and feel like a failure when he dismissed me. All I wanted was to impress him. For him to think I was valuable, and useful. Just sitting at my desk, I could feel my heart beat faster and my hands clam up a bit. I was going to make him take notice today. I would speak clearly, concisely, and assertively. I practiced my little summary in my head, for when he asked.
I stood with a minute to go, and walked tall down the narrow hall to the thick wooden door. I knocked three times, a bit quieter than I had intended. When he bade me entrance, I turned the knob and walked a few steps in.
"Shut the door." I closed it, then turned back to him. He was staring intently at his computer screen. As I watched him, my heart skipped a beat. He really was so handsome. And powerful. I walked on shaky legs to stand by the low leather chair in front of his desk.
"Sit." I quickly obeyed, remembering to adjust my skirt so that I didn't flash him my naked cunt. Now that I thought about it, I felt so exposed. I could feel the cold air on me, and realized that I was really wet. It was something I couldn't explain. It had happened before, when he ordered me around like this. I chose to ignore it. But it was hard. Great day to not wear panties, I sarcastically thought. I just hoped that I didn't make a spot on my skirt. I already felt indecent enough.
I was sitting there, waiting, calming myself down, for about two minutes before he finally turned to me. Our eyes met, and for the tiniest second, I thought I saw something in his. A quick flash of something. Dangerous-like. Maybe he knows, I thought. Maybe he knows that he makes me nervous. Or worse, he knows that I'm sitting here, without any panties on, and a wet pussy, like a slut. The thought made me blush and I quickly broke eye contact to stare at the floor.
"So, Miss Craig, what do you have for me this morning?" he looked at me, noticeably bored with the whole routine.
"T-the typical, s-sir. Nothing interesting today. The numbers are a little off, but it looks like nothing." I blushed again. Damn it! I stuttered. I wasn't going to stutter! It was that damned question that threw me off. It had me thinking of other things I could offer him this morning. Things that might interest him a bit more. I shook my head slightly, to clear my head.
He stood up from his large chair and quietly walked around the large wooden desk, his fingers gliding gently behind him. He came to stand at my right. I was hesitant to meet his gaze again and kept my eyes down. I looked over to find his crotch exactly level with my shoulders, because the chair was so low. I noticed a slight bulge in his pants, and my breath hitched a bit. I could see the edge of the head defined against his grey slacks. I quickly tried to convince myself that he wasn't standing in front of me with a hard on—that's ridiculous. He just must be a bit . . . larger, than I was familiar with. I looked up at his face, tilting my head because he was standing so close, and I saw the recognition in his eyes. I had stared too long! He looked amused. I could feel my face burn with embarrassment, the blush spreading down my chest.
"Stand," he commanded. I did, quickly. So quickly, that I spilled my papers across the floor in front of me and pushed my chair noisily back. I chanced another glance at him and found him . . . smiling? He was close. So close I could feel his breath on the my cheek. I raised my eyes from his lips to his stare. That dangerous look was there. Plain as day. He made no attempt to hide the hunger in his eyes. I could see that he wanted me. His eyes told me how he wanted to take and devour every inch of my body, leaving me sore and broken. Electric heat ran through my body. My face upturned, I let my eyes flutter closed.
But then, he walked away. He just walked away, leaving me standing there stupidly. I felt so shamed and rejected. He took his seat again, and acted like nothing happened. My shoulders drooped, head dropped, and knees buckled slightly. I was an idiot. He is my boss, and now he was sure as day going to fire me! He interrupted my internal monologue with a sharp order.
"Come to the edge of my desk, Miss Craig." My feet made the short steps quickly, kicking the papers I had spilled just a minute earlier. I felt the wooden edge of his desk against the front of my hips. I stood there. Waiting. Praying he would forgive me, or forget that I had just acted like a complete fool. He adjusted himself in his chair and went back to his typing.
Dismissively, he said, "Well, I presume you want more than to just stand there looking desperately horny. Remove your shirt. It will help with the heat." My jaw dropped, and heat rushed to my cunt. I should have turned a heel and marched out of his office right then, like any sane woman. But my fingers flew to the buttons of my blouse. I undid them with trembling hands and laid my shirt on the desk. Then I stood there, in front of my boss, in a bra, skirt, and heels. My pussy was absolutely aching. And yet, he sat there, still typing, eyes still glued to his screen. Was this a big joke? Or did he think I wasn't worth looking at? I just wanted him to look at me, to like what he saw.
"Reach over here and free my cock before it explodes." He kept typing. Was he serious? I needed to get out of here, fast.
"Now." This time, he looked at me. And his impatience was unmistakable. I started around the desk, to go to his chair. He stood before I took two steps, reached across, grabbed my hair in a fist, and forcefully slammed me down against the desk. He lowered his mouth to my ear. His breath was hot.
"I said reach, Miss Craig. Do not disobey me again, or the entire office will see you for what you are." This was my cue to leave. He was psycho, obviously. His hand was still painfully tangled in my hair, I was bent uncomfortably over the desk, but my body didn't listen to my logic. It was as if electricity coursed through my veins, all headed for my bare cunt. My inner thighs had grown slippery from my arousal, and I was acutely aware of the fact as I bent over with my skirt riding up. I listened to my body, and let the logic slip away.
I reached my right arm up to awkwardly unbutton and unzip his pants, his crotch level with my face, his grip tight in my hair. I pushed his slacks down as much as I could and finally manage to pull his cock out so that it unintentionally hit me in the face. Holy shit, I thought, it was huge. I had only been with four men in my life, and none of them measured up. I only had a second to appreciate his massive member before he forced it into my mouth and against the back of my throat.
I immediately gagged, and heard him give a small groan. He pulled out a bit, then pushed right back in, pulling me by my hair further onto his cock. I felt something give in the back of my throat, and he filled me up. He held me there, gagging. I could feel my eyes water and widen. What if he didn't let up? I brought my hand up to push against him. He pulled out of my throat, and I gasped for air. Then he took his other hand and put my arm behind my back.
"You will not touch me again," he instructed. And I didn't dare. He took my mouth again, this time pumping in and out. Fucking my mouth. Fucking my reluctant throat. I gagged and gasped and choked. I tried not to, but I couldn't help it. He barely let me breathe. And then, I felt him push deep again, and his enormous cock pulsed against my tongue, as he let out a strangled groan. Again, I started to panic, with his huge cock cutting off my air supply, and my gag reflex kicking in. I could feel his hot cum in my throat, and I had no choice but to accept it. Finally, when I was about to disobey him, and push him away, he pulled out of me, but with firm instructions: "Swallow it, Miss Craig."
I swallowed, and gasped, and swallowed again. His cum was sticky, and it lingered in the back of my throat as I choked for a decent breath of air. I put both of my palms against his desk to steady myself now that he released my hair from his grasp. I watched as he pulled his underwear and slacks back over his still hard cock and zipped up. He looked at me for a second. His expression was a mixture of amusement and smug satisfaction.
"You may collect yourself and go now. Miss Craig, do not forget to maintain a professional look in my office at all times." With that, he regained his seat and returned to his work. In silent disbelief I pushed myself back up to standing, on shaky legs. My back was stiff from being bent over. My chest heaved as I struggled for normal breathing. I kept my teary eyes downcast as I put my shirt back on and smoothed down my hair. I got to my knees to gather up all my useless papers. I stood, and hesitated, daring to look at my boss, who had just bent me over his desk and fucked my throat like it was a normal occurrence. I turned slowly on my heel and made for the door, taking careful steps.
"Miss Craig," my ears perked up and I turned eagerly to him. "Do not bother to wear underwear tomorrow. I would hate to destroy any of your clothing. And please be prompt for our 11 o'clock meeting." With that, I was dismissed.
Appointment
Lady Tiffany lazed back on her sofa, the soft silk of her robe folding
gracefully over her bare body. The smoke of her cigarette entranced her,
and the soft mellow music in the background filled her head. There was a
knock on the door that adjoined her apartment with the rest of the
house. She jumped slightly.
"Come in," she barked, annoyed at the interruption. Rebecca poked her head around the door, looking sheepishly at Lady Tiffany from under her raven locks. Tiffany raised her brows and cocked her head back, blowing a stream of smoke.
"What," she asked the girl rudely. Rebecca bit her full lip nervously and her slight frame entered the room.
"You required me to come to your room at eight, my lady," she mumbled in voice barely louder than a whisper. She looked around, and backed against the door. "Shall I, er... shall I leave, my lady?"
Tiffany took the last drag from her cigarette and stumped it out in the ashtray. She sighed and sat up, taking in Rebecca's shivering form framed in the doorway, looking ready to sprint away any second.
"You are not wearing what I required you to wear," Tiffany stated. They both knew it was not a question. Rebecca bit her lip again and looked down at her outfit, clutching at the top of her skirt that hugged her hips tightly.
"I didn't have anything shorter," she mumbled in apology. Ignoring the statement, Tiffany shook her head in disapproval.
"Come to the middle of the room," she said, pointing at a position some two meters away from the couch. Rebecca made a slight nod and closed the door behind her, moving briskly to the indicated position. She stood there, seemingly not knowing what to do with her hands. She kept clutching at her clothes and fidgeting. A smile played at the corners of Tiffany's lips, but Rebecca was too self-aware to notice.
"Well, take of the clothes if they bother you so much then," Tiffany said after a minute of silence. Rebecca's head shot up and she hesitated for a second. Tiffany looked at her questioningly, waiting patiently. With slightly shaking hands she began to unbutton her blouse, and she let it drop to the floor in a puddle. Her mid-thigh skirt followed. She stood there in her black lace underwear, unsure if they were to follow as well.
"Oh, for goodness sake, Rebecca, are you going to make me wait all the night for you to finish," Tiffany snapped, inwardly amused at the girl's awkwardness. Rebecca made an inaudible sound and reached behind her to undo her bra. It hit the floor unceremoniously with the rest of her clothes. Her nipples hardened in seconds in the cold air and Tiffany admired the smallish firm perky tits for a while. Rebecca blushed at the attention, and then shimmied out of her thong, revealing her perfectly shaved pussy. Again she started fidgeting with her hands.
"Lace your hands behind your neck," Tiffany commanded, lighting another smoke. She crossed her legs and lounged back again, never letting her eyes leave the girl. Rebecca complied, thankful for the diversion.
"Stand up straight, girl, and spread your legs a little," Tiffany said and watched Rebecca comply. Savouring her cigarette slowly she contemplated her subby.
"Did you masturbate this week," she asked, noticing a flush appear on her cheeks and chest. Rebecca turned her gaze towards the carpet. Tiffany was about to admonish her for not answering when she said in a small voice, "Yes, my lady."
"Oh? How many times?"
Rebecca looked at her pleadingly but Tiffany just waited expectantly.
"I don't know," she answered turning a deeper shade of red. Tiffany frowned.
"How many times, you little insatiable whore?" Rebecca closed her eyes as if she was stricken.
"Five times, my lady." Tiffany nodded.
"Did you come all five times?"
Rebecca shook her head in the affirmative.
"Once I came twice," she admitted.
"What did you think about? Did it cross your mind that you were touching my pussy? Playing with my breasts? Did it occur to you that you could be punished for it? Or is that what drove you on? Hmm?" Tiffany's voice sounded angry, and Rebecca shifted uncomfortably. Her eyes beseeched Tiffany. For some time they stared at each other, but Rebecca dropped her gaze, no longer being able to meet Tiffany's icy glare. Silence reigned for another minute.
"Show me," Tiffany suddenly said.
"What," Rebecca asked in a shaky voice. Tiffany did not repeat herself, she knew she didn't have to. The girl licked her lips and unlaced her fingers behind her neck, dropping them to her side. She closed her eyes and let her right hand's fingers travel to her pussy, spreading her lips. She dipped two fingers into her cunt, bringing them out moist. She spread her juice on her clit in small circles, taking her time. Her other hand's fingers explored her upper body, finding her nipples each in turn. As she twisted and tucked at them a small groan escaped her lips and her hips began to move slightly. She moved her fingers over her clit faster and faster, thrusting them up her pussy every now and then.
Tiffany finished her smoke and stood up. Rebecca's eyes flew open and she stopped, but Tiffany commanded her to continue as she disappeared into the bedroom. She returned with some rope and a bag in a couple of minutes. She let the coils fall to the ground next to her sub. Rebecca did not seem to notice. Her hips were bucking wildly and she was moaning.
"Kneel, and put your hands behind your neck again," Tiffany commanded. Rebecca bit her lip again, her fingers flying over her clit. Suddenly Tiffany slapped Rebecca across her face. Rebecca cried out, staggering slightly. Her hand that had been frigging herself of seconds before now came up to her cheek to soothe the angry red mark that appeared there.
"I said kneel, don't make me ask you again," Tiffany said, frowning at her. With watery eyes Rebecca complied, dropping to her knees and putting her hands behind her head. Tiffany shook her head and drew a chair up next to the kneeling girl, sitting delicately on it. She reached for the rope on the floor and considered it for a second.
"Hmm, no, rather stand on all fours," Tiffany said, reconsidering her plan of action. This time compliance came fast. Tiffany laced the rope around the girl's chest, just underneath her breasts, and then around. Methodically she bound her tits. When they were done they were taught, and the nipples poked out almost obscenely.
"Right, on your knees again like before," Tiffany said, pleased with the effect. Rebecca's face twisted a bit as her body got used to the new pressure that was on her tits. Reaching her hands behind her neck was painful as the ropes strained against her. Tiffany flicked her thumbs over the nipples, enjoying the effect on the girl's face. She noticed how she rocked her hips slightly in tell-tale of the fact that she was enjoying this too.
"Hmm, my baby-doll likes the slight pain, doesn't she," Tiffany crooned. Rebecca licked her lips and nodded.
"I wonder how much," Tiffany mused. She reached in the back and brought out a pair of pegs, watching the girls eye's fly wide. She laughed.
"But look at your nipples, dear. They are begging for the attention," she said as she applied first the one and then the other. Rebecca grimaced then moaned appreciatively as Tiffany flicked them.
"How pretty you look," she stated, "with your tits jutting out like that. They feel so tight. I'll let you enjoy it for a while."
She stood up and removed the chair. Rebecca looked demurely at the floor in front of her, lust obvious in her whole stature. She moved her leg slightly so she could rub her pussy against her heel, glancing at Tiffany guiltily. Tiffany laughed again.
"Look at you," she said, "such a little bitch in heat, humping your leg like that." She sat down on the couch again, watching the show for a while. She spread her legs wide, letting the robe fall open. Rebecca gasped softly and opened her mouth when her lady's pussy was displayed.
"Crawl to me, pet," Tiffany demanded, "and come feed." Rebecca kept her eyes on Tiffany's crotch as she got on her hands and knees again. The added pegs made gravity pull on her nipples more and she moaned aloud again. She crawled the distance between her and her mistress. Tiffany patted her head as she burrowed it in her juicy folds.
"Good girl," she sighed as her skilful tongue licked her outer lips then delving in deeper. She teased for a little while, but then her mouth found Tiffany's button and sucked. She nibbled it and flicked her tongue over it, working the lady in just the way she was taught. Soon Tiffany was groaning and forcing the girls face deeper into her crotch, obscenely rubbing her cunt against her face. She closed her legs tightly around the girl's head and let her orgasm wash over her, feeling it burning in her cunt and spreading out to her whole body. When her violent rocking subsided she released Rebecca from her grip.
"Such a good girl," she said again as she came down. Rebecca sat back on her haunches and smiled, her face glistening with juice.
"But only when you want to be, isn't that right," Tiffany added, more sternly. The smile on Rebecca's face faded away as she started to expect what's coming. Tiffany smiled as she saw it dawn on her sub's face.
"Up on my lap, across the couch," Tiffany demanded. Rebecca looked at her mistress, knowing that the pegs would bite painfully into her nipples if she lay flat on the couch.
"Now, slut," Tiffany warned, knowing this too. Slowly the girl moved to obey, carefully positioning her buttocks on her lady's lap, biting down on her lips as she lowered her chest into the couch. She groaned loudly. Tiffany's hands were on her ass, rubbing it, allowing circulation to spread. She knew Rebecca to enjoy pain up to a certain degree, and knew it was not necessary for any implement other than her hands to be used with her nipples aching like that. She started spanking her softly, almost caressing, letting Rebecca get use to the sensation. When her hips started thrusting against her lap, Tiffany slapped her harder. Rebecca gasped at the new pace and force, but gradually felt the pleasure in it too. Her buttocks started glowing pink. With each stroke she felt a sting that faded. Soon, however, the sting did not fade and it was burning constantly, outlined by a deeper pang of pain as Tiffany's strong hand fell all over her backside. Her buttocks turned a vivid red. She felt the pain and submitted to it, letting it swallow her as she pressed her tits harder into the couch. She bucked more wildly in her mistress's lap, clutching at the small pillows at her head. The last few strokes were so hard that she cried out loudly.
She suddenly felt Tiffany's hands in her hair, her fingernails scraping at her skull.
"You're such a horny bitch," Tiffany growled in her ear, "get off me and kneel."
Rebecca moaned and rolled off the coach, dropping into a kneeling position. Her lips were dry and her pussy aching to be touched. Tiffany found a vibrator and slid down behind Rebecca. She turned it onto full and without mercy brought it down on the sub's straining clit, rubbing it hard. Rebecca's back arched, letting her nipples take more strain as she fucked her cunt against the vibrator, mumbling incoherently.
"Come on, my little whore, this is what you want, isn't it," Tiffany spurred her on, pulling the pegs hard. Rebecca's breath came in loud bursts as she felt her orgasm bubbling to the surface. She rode out the waves overcoming her body, until finally she could take it no more. Tiffany removed the pegs and the overwhelming burst of pain sent Rebecca over the edge. She slumped into a writhing mass on the floor and felt the orgasm rip out of her. She called out to her mistress in the throws of pleasure and tensed up her whole body.
Tiffany threw off her robe and covered her sub's body with hers, feeling her tremble. She kissed her head tenderly.
"Well done," she said, rocking her in her arms, "such a good girl."
"Come in," she barked, annoyed at the interruption. Rebecca poked her head around the door, looking sheepishly at Lady Tiffany from under her raven locks. Tiffany raised her brows and cocked her head back, blowing a stream of smoke.
"What," she asked the girl rudely. Rebecca bit her full lip nervously and her slight frame entered the room.
"You required me to come to your room at eight, my lady," she mumbled in voice barely louder than a whisper. She looked around, and backed against the door. "Shall I, er... shall I leave, my lady?"
Tiffany took the last drag from her cigarette and stumped it out in the ashtray. She sighed and sat up, taking in Rebecca's shivering form framed in the doorway, looking ready to sprint away any second.
"You are not wearing what I required you to wear," Tiffany stated. They both knew it was not a question. Rebecca bit her lip again and looked down at her outfit, clutching at the top of her skirt that hugged her hips tightly.
"I didn't have anything shorter," she mumbled in apology. Ignoring the statement, Tiffany shook her head in disapproval.
"Come to the middle of the room," she said, pointing at a position some two meters away from the couch. Rebecca made a slight nod and closed the door behind her, moving briskly to the indicated position. She stood there, seemingly not knowing what to do with her hands. She kept clutching at her clothes and fidgeting. A smile played at the corners of Tiffany's lips, but Rebecca was too self-aware to notice.
"Well, take of the clothes if they bother you so much then," Tiffany said after a minute of silence. Rebecca's head shot up and she hesitated for a second. Tiffany looked at her questioningly, waiting patiently. With slightly shaking hands she began to unbutton her blouse, and she let it drop to the floor in a puddle. Her mid-thigh skirt followed. She stood there in her black lace underwear, unsure if they were to follow as well.
"Oh, for goodness sake, Rebecca, are you going to make me wait all the night for you to finish," Tiffany snapped, inwardly amused at the girl's awkwardness. Rebecca made an inaudible sound and reached behind her to undo her bra. It hit the floor unceremoniously with the rest of her clothes. Her nipples hardened in seconds in the cold air and Tiffany admired the smallish firm perky tits for a while. Rebecca blushed at the attention, and then shimmied out of her thong, revealing her perfectly shaved pussy. Again she started fidgeting with her hands.
"Lace your hands behind your neck," Tiffany commanded, lighting another smoke. She crossed her legs and lounged back again, never letting her eyes leave the girl. Rebecca complied, thankful for the diversion.
"Stand up straight, girl, and spread your legs a little," Tiffany said and watched Rebecca comply. Savouring her cigarette slowly she contemplated her subby.
"Did you masturbate this week," she asked, noticing a flush appear on her cheeks and chest. Rebecca turned her gaze towards the carpet. Tiffany was about to admonish her for not answering when she said in a small voice, "Yes, my lady."
"Oh? How many times?"
Rebecca looked at her pleadingly but Tiffany just waited expectantly.
"I don't know," she answered turning a deeper shade of red. Tiffany frowned.
"How many times, you little insatiable whore?" Rebecca closed her eyes as if she was stricken.
"Five times, my lady." Tiffany nodded.
"Did you come all five times?"
Rebecca shook her head in the affirmative.
"Once I came twice," she admitted.
"What did you think about? Did it cross your mind that you were touching my pussy? Playing with my breasts? Did it occur to you that you could be punished for it? Or is that what drove you on? Hmm?" Tiffany's voice sounded angry, and Rebecca shifted uncomfortably. Her eyes beseeched Tiffany. For some time they stared at each other, but Rebecca dropped her gaze, no longer being able to meet Tiffany's icy glare. Silence reigned for another minute.
"Show me," Tiffany suddenly said.
"What," Rebecca asked in a shaky voice. Tiffany did not repeat herself, she knew she didn't have to. The girl licked her lips and unlaced her fingers behind her neck, dropping them to her side. She closed her eyes and let her right hand's fingers travel to her pussy, spreading her lips. She dipped two fingers into her cunt, bringing them out moist. She spread her juice on her clit in small circles, taking her time. Her other hand's fingers explored her upper body, finding her nipples each in turn. As she twisted and tucked at them a small groan escaped her lips and her hips began to move slightly. She moved her fingers over her clit faster and faster, thrusting them up her pussy every now and then.
Tiffany finished her smoke and stood up. Rebecca's eyes flew open and she stopped, but Tiffany commanded her to continue as she disappeared into the bedroom. She returned with some rope and a bag in a couple of minutes. She let the coils fall to the ground next to her sub. Rebecca did not seem to notice. Her hips were bucking wildly and she was moaning.
"Kneel, and put your hands behind your neck again," Tiffany commanded. Rebecca bit her lip again, her fingers flying over her clit. Suddenly Tiffany slapped Rebecca across her face. Rebecca cried out, staggering slightly. Her hand that had been frigging herself of seconds before now came up to her cheek to soothe the angry red mark that appeared there.
"I said kneel, don't make me ask you again," Tiffany said, frowning at her. With watery eyes Rebecca complied, dropping to her knees and putting her hands behind her head. Tiffany shook her head and drew a chair up next to the kneeling girl, sitting delicately on it. She reached for the rope on the floor and considered it for a second.
"Hmm, no, rather stand on all fours," Tiffany said, reconsidering her plan of action. This time compliance came fast. Tiffany laced the rope around the girl's chest, just underneath her breasts, and then around. Methodically she bound her tits. When they were done they were taught, and the nipples poked out almost obscenely.
"Right, on your knees again like before," Tiffany said, pleased with the effect. Rebecca's face twisted a bit as her body got used to the new pressure that was on her tits. Reaching her hands behind her neck was painful as the ropes strained against her. Tiffany flicked her thumbs over the nipples, enjoying the effect on the girl's face. She noticed how she rocked her hips slightly in tell-tale of the fact that she was enjoying this too.
"Hmm, my baby-doll likes the slight pain, doesn't she," Tiffany crooned. Rebecca licked her lips and nodded.
"I wonder how much," Tiffany mused. She reached in the back and brought out a pair of pegs, watching the girls eye's fly wide. She laughed.
"But look at your nipples, dear. They are begging for the attention," she said as she applied first the one and then the other. Rebecca grimaced then moaned appreciatively as Tiffany flicked them.
"How pretty you look," she stated, "with your tits jutting out like that. They feel so tight. I'll let you enjoy it for a while."
She stood up and removed the chair. Rebecca looked demurely at the floor in front of her, lust obvious in her whole stature. She moved her leg slightly so she could rub her pussy against her heel, glancing at Tiffany guiltily. Tiffany laughed again.
"Look at you," she said, "such a little bitch in heat, humping your leg like that." She sat down on the couch again, watching the show for a while. She spread her legs wide, letting the robe fall open. Rebecca gasped softly and opened her mouth when her lady's pussy was displayed.
"Crawl to me, pet," Tiffany demanded, "and come feed." Rebecca kept her eyes on Tiffany's crotch as she got on her hands and knees again. The added pegs made gravity pull on her nipples more and she moaned aloud again. She crawled the distance between her and her mistress. Tiffany patted her head as she burrowed it in her juicy folds.
"Good girl," she sighed as her skilful tongue licked her outer lips then delving in deeper. She teased for a little while, but then her mouth found Tiffany's button and sucked. She nibbled it and flicked her tongue over it, working the lady in just the way she was taught. Soon Tiffany was groaning and forcing the girls face deeper into her crotch, obscenely rubbing her cunt against her face. She closed her legs tightly around the girl's head and let her orgasm wash over her, feeling it burning in her cunt and spreading out to her whole body. When her violent rocking subsided she released Rebecca from her grip.
"Such a good girl," she said again as she came down. Rebecca sat back on her haunches and smiled, her face glistening with juice.
"But only when you want to be, isn't that right," Tiffany added, more sternly. The smile on Rebecca's face faded away as she started to expect what's coming. Tiffany smiled as she saw it dawn on her sub's face.
"Up on my lap, across the couch," Tiffany demanded. Rebecca looked at her mistress, knowing that the pegs would bite painfully into her nipples if she lay flat on the couch.
"Now, slut," Tiffany warned, knowing this too. Slowly the girl moved to obey, carefully positioning her buttocks on her lady's lap, biting down on her lips as she lowered her chest into the couch. She groaned loudly. Tiffany's hands were on her ass, rubbing it, allowing circulation to spread. She knew Rebecca to enjoy pain up to a certain degree, and knew it was not necessary for any implement other than her hands to be used with her nipples aching like that. She started spanking her softly, almost caressing, letting Rebecca get use to the sensation. When her hips started thrusting against her lap, Tiffany slapped her harder. Rebecca gasped at the new pace and force, but gradually felt the pleasure in it too. Her buttocks started glowing pink. With each stroke she felt a sting that faded. Soon, however, the sting did not fade and it was burning constantly, outlined by a deeper pang of pain as Tiffany's strong hand fell all over her backside. Her buttocks turned a vivid red. She felt the pain and submitted to it, letting it swallow her as she pressed her tits harder into the couch. She bucked more wildly in her mistress's lap, clutching at the small pillows at her head. The last few strokes were so hard that she cried out loudly.
She suddenly felt Tiffany's hands in her hair, her fingernails scraping at her skull.
"You're such a horny bitch," Tiffany growled in her ear, "get off me and kneel."
Rebecca moaned and rolled off the coach, dropping into a kneeling position. Her lips were dry and her pussy aching to be touched. Tiffany found a vibrator and slid down behind Rebecca. She turned it onto full and without mercy brought it down on the sub's straining clit, rubbing it hard. Rebecca's back arched, letting her nipples take more strain as she fucked her cunt against the vibrator, mumbling incoherently.
"Come on, my little whore, this is what you want, isn't it," Tiffany spurred her on, pulling the pegs hard. Rebecca's breath came in loud bursts as she felt her orgasm bubbling to the surface. She rode out the waves overcoming her body, until finally she could take it no more. Tiffany removed the pegs and the overwhelming burst of pain sent Rebecca over the edge. She slumped into a writhing mass on the floor and felt the orgasm rip out of her. She called out to her mistress in the throws of pleasure and tensed up her whole body.
Tiffany threw off her robe and covered her sub's body with hers, feeling her tremble. She kissed her head tenderly.
"Well done," she said, rocking her in her arms, "such a good girl."
...and Leighton Makes Three
Regular readers know this. You who are new to me don't. But these
stories are mostly true. The story and what happened and how I felt is
true. The dialog is how I remember it, but you and I both know that
memory is faulty when it comes to dialog. My name really IS Charlotte
and Paul's name really is Paul and yes, we really live in the Richmond,
Virginia area.
Most of the time, the names of anyone else has been changed but in Leighton's case, I've used her real name and town because, well, she asked me too.
Leighton, you see, is a fan. I don't now why it never really occurred to me before her that I had fans. I have, after all, written a few stories and put them "out there" for you and others to read. As close as I can tell, a few thousand people have read each of them and that is just totally mind boggling to me. It makes me feel very exposed, even more than if I posted pictures. It's just delicious.
And yes, a few of you e-mail me from time to time and a couple of you have even become friends, people I write to regularly and even share a few pictures with now and then.
But fans? That was different in my mind. Singers have fans. Actresses have fans, Novelists have fans I am a soon to be 43 year old woman living (other than my sex life) a very ordinary life. I have a regular job. I have a house. I'm divorced. I work in the yard. I am not model perfect body wise and make no pretensions of perfection. I have, in fact, the normal array of womanly insecurities.
The past three years, since I met Paul, have been an adventure in learning and accepting who and what I am sexually and I have ended up with a sex life that was unimaginable to me three years ago. Again, you regular readers have shared the journey with me as I sporadically shared the highlights in my stories. But fans? I never thought about it.
Until I started getting e-mails from Leighton.
She wrote me, she said, because she felt like she shared something of my spirit, that as she read my stories, she felt something in her stir. She was beginning to realize who she was, and what she wanted in a relationship. And she wanted to have someone to talk to about it. It wasn't, she said, something she could talk about with her friends and family. She was from Columbia, South Carolina, a very conservative town. "My friends would never get it if I told them that what I really want in a relationship is the same kind of loving submission you give Paul.
She was very sweet, and very articulate, and we began to write regularly. "I am such a fan." she said. "It's like talking to a movie star for me, I want to have the life and relationship you have."
I was flattered. But I also know my path has had some bumps. My stories only talk about the highlights, the hottest sexiest times. I wouldn't suggest anyone use my stories as a role model. They are just my stories. So we began to write back and forth. She was a delight. Smart, Thoughtful. Just a couple of years out of college. A good job. She was very in touch with herself, the result, she said, of going into therapy while in college and sticking with it for three years. She seemed remarkably together for a twenty three year old woman. Certainly I don't think I was that together at her age.
Somewhere along the way, she sent me a picture. She was very shy about it, but she was beautiful. She has a body like mine - full breasted, narrow wasted, full hips. Dark hair, long and straight. Full lips and that perfect skin of youth. I looked at her breasts and for the first time, I think I understood why you guys are so attracted to a woman's breast. They were perfect, full, high on her chest, with pink nipples that were hard and pronounced.
"I've never taken a naked picture of myself before." she wrote. "I hope it's OK. I hope I look OK."
She was beautiful. I was almost afraid to send her a picture of me, but Paul has taken a few that I feel good about, and I sent her one. We began to share pictures along with our words. She would write me and tell me how the shots I shared with her, often ones of my being tied up, or with nipple clips, made her feel. She share what fantasies came to her mind.
One day, she asked me if I could send her a picture of Pau'ls cock. "I've read your stories and I've read your blog." she wrote. "And I know you have an oral fetish. I think I might too, and I would so love to see the cock that you worship so."
How could I resist? I send her one, then others, of his cock in my hand, or between my lips. She was so enthusiastic in her praise. Her words made me feel even more that I have something and someone special. She was almost rapturous, and her rapture and desire fed my own. Lucky Paul got more than the normal number of bow jobs for the next couple of months,
She was also fascinated by my submission, She seemed to totally understand that me, it's; not about Paul's making me be submissive and dominating me in the stereotyped "Dom" role, Not, it's about my wanting to give myself and my submission to him as a gift, my wanting to please him by allowing him to push the boundries of our sex life. Because I wanted those boundaries to be stretched, but on my own, I don't think I would ever have taken the steps. But with him in the lead, taking me on a sexual journey, his confidence gave me confidence, and I found myself doing things at his "command" that I would have never done with anyone else.
"I so know how you feel." Leighton wrote me one day. "I want to experience that kind of giving of myself, and being at someone else's, loving, tender command."
Then one day, she asked if I had shared her pictures and e-mails with Paul. No, I told her. I had not. I had assumed they were private.
"Would you, please?" she wrote back. I could almost hear the little girl sound of her voice.
So I showed them, and the entire chain of e-mails. He reaction was just what I could have predicted. He loved her look and that night, we fantasized about having Leighton in our bed. The sex was hard and hot that night. The next day, when she asked about his reaction, I told her everything, about how his cock rose and swelled at the look of her, and how, as we talked about her, his swollen cock pounded me relentlessly until he came hard inside me. Yes, I assured her, he liked her just fine.
Now, we had been writing and sharing our desires for nearly three months. I felt like she was a little sister, a sexy little sister. And I guessed I should have seen it coming. But I didn't.
The email read....."Do you think there is any possibility you and Paul would have sex with me, for real? I so want to experience submissive sex and I know you would treat me kindly. I want to experience it without fear."
Now, I get guys writing me that all the time. Most of the time though, they are one line wonders. This was a woman I had come to know, who was, in truth, very sexy to Paul and to me. We had had sex with her on our minds more than once. I had fingered myself imagining it was her more than once. I love men most, but I HAD experienced a woman once and it was good. And Leighton was something special, physically and as a person.
I told her I had to think about it. But honestly, I didn't. I knew I wanted to. I just had to gather my thoughts about it because I was suddenly crazy in lust with the idea.
I called Paul. "Please?" I asked. "I know you always pick the people we've played with before. But I really want to have sex with Leighton. You can stay in control. You can tell us both what to do. I'll let her have sex with you. Please? I'll do anything."
I don't think I had ever been so desperate. I can't tell you why really. I just know that this young girl, with her soft and firm body, her submissive spirit and deep desire to test her submissive nature against reality had me crazy lustful.
"Get me her phone number." Paul said. "We'll see."
The next two weeks, I knew she and Paul were talking, but I was out of the loop. It was between them. "Trust me." Paul said. When I asked Leighton what was going on she only said "Trust Paul." I was going crazy.
Finally, one Wednesday night, after Paul and I had finsihed making love and were lying entwined in the afterglow, Paul said quietly, "You'll need to pack for a trip this weekend. I'll pick you up after work. I'll tell you just what to wear. We are going to Columbia."
Columbia, South Carolina! That's where Leighton lived.
I called her the next morning from work. Yes, it was all set up. We'd meet Saturday night for dinner. We'd spend the night together. Paul had told her just what to wear too, and she accepted that we would both be at his command for the night. And like me, she was crazy at the thought. "I can hardly function at work." she told me. I knew the feeling. I've had it every time Paul let me know ahead of time that I was going to be shared with someone else. And now both Leighton and I were experiencing it.
The drive to Columbia was crazy. I was in my work suit and Paul had me fingering myself for hours. I came like crazy. When we got into the suite, he had me on my knees and I gave him a majrly loving blow job. The next morning I woke up and there was sex again. The day dragged along. About four, I began to get ready.
For me, getting ready for sex is like foreplay. The whole time I bathe, do my hair, my nails, my makeup, I am thinking about the impression I will make on the other person (or people.) Dressing is crazy, I seem to feel the fabric more than you can imagine. I look at myself with eyes of lust, and stop often as I put on my lingerie, my stockings, my dress.
This night, Paul had me in a black 1940's style cocktail dress. Very pinup. Pencil skirt with a lowish cut bodice, with frills around the collar. I wore my black brocade corset underneath, and Paul cinched the corset to the point my cleavage was high and hard to miss. Black lace stockings. I felt so deliciously trampy. I knew men would be looking at me at the restaurant, but I was really thinking about what Leighton would think. Would I fit the image she had of me? Was it too much? Not enough?
We went downstairs and out the door to our car. Then to the restaurant. He had reserved a table smack in the middle of the room. Eyes followed me as I entered. I was so turned on. By the eyes.. By the look of lust in Paul's eyes. In anticipation. We sat at the table and Paul ordered champagne.
Then Leighton was at the door. I thought I would faint. Paul had dressed her too. I could see the touches. Where I was in back and white, she was in white. A summery white dress. High heeled white sandals. The dress was sheer and you could see the white corset underneath. Behind her, the light picked out her curves. The dress was unbuttoned a button or two too law to be appropriate. I could tell she was uneasy. I was too, the first time Paul had dresed me to show me off.
Paul rose and went to get her. He took her by the hand and began to lead her to our table. I don't know what he said to her, but she laughed and visibly relaxed. I was wet. Just like that, I was wet between my legs.
Paul brought her to the table and introduced us. We hugged, hanging on to each other tighter than a normal meet and greet might indicate.
Don't ask me what we talked about over dinner. I remember I felt relaxed, but aroused the whole time I felt very aware of my corset and what I would look like when my dress came off. The wetness lingered, because I wore no panties under the corset and dress. I was smooth down there. If I knew Paul, she was too. The thought got me going all over.
I was very aware of all the men looking. I know she was too. I'd experienced it before and I still get excited when I am dressed sexy in public. But for her, it was a first time and she was almost glowing in the admiration. There was a flush in her cheeks. And Paul was enjoying it too. I could tell. Having all those men look at us and wish they were him just made him smile with an enigmatic smile. He knew what was coming was more than the men watching would believe, that what they might fantasize about, he was going to experience.
Finally dinner was done. We had finished two bottle of champagne. Even the coffee after dinner didn't take the buzz off. Paul rose. He reached into his pocket and brought out two scarves. "Trust me." he said as he went behind Leighton and tied the white one over her eyes. "Trust me" he said, as he tied the black one around my head. Then, having us stand, he led us from the room. I can't even imagine what people there were thinking, or what the valet parking guys must have thought.
They brought our car, and Paul installed us both in the back seat. He got in the driver's seat. "Feel free to kiss and explore, he said. Just remember I'll be taking you through a lobby, so I'd suggest you leave the clothes on,
Our first kisses were sweet and tender. Our first touches were tentative. But emotion has it's own power and the kisses became hungrier. Our hands became bolder. Then suddenly we stopped. Leighton and I separated, breathless. Paul opened the car door, leading me out, then reaching in for Leighton. He led us through the lobby, which fell quiet as we walked through. I can't imagine what we looked like in our corset enhanced, cleavage showing dresses and our lipstick smeared lips. Frankly, at that point, I didn't care.
The elevator ride and the walk down the hall seemed to take FOREVER. Finally we got to the suite. I realized that Leighton had shown amazing trust in us. I at least knew what hotel we were in. She had come with no idea. We entered, and Paul removed our blindfolds.
We were both rumpled, but she looked so beautiful in her white dress.
"Charlotte," Leighton's dress is lovely, but I think it's time you remove it.
I've undressed men before, but this was the first time I undressed a woman. I was slow about it. Half awkward and half wanting to savor it. Her chest rose and fell as she breathed heavily. Neither of us said a world. I unbuttoned the back (It WOULD be buttons! One of Pau's touches to extend the moment.), then lifted it over her head.
She was breathtaking. Once she had called herself a "wallflower" but she wasn't at all. Her corset was only slightly cinched but her breasts were so perfect they seemed to lift up on their own. And like me, Paul had made sure there were no panties. She was shaved smooth. I pulled her close and issed her tenderly. Her toungue flickered n and out of my mouth
"Now, Leighton, your turn."
If I felt awkward, so was she. But my dress came off easier, again probably on purpose. One long zip down the side and then over my head. and we were both there, exposed in our corsets.
"Leighton. On the bed. On your back," She nodded and moved.
Paul went to our little black bag and pulled out silk ties. He handed me two.
How many times have I been tied with these? I could not begin to count. We tied her, spread gently, not tight, on the bed. She was still, but not quiet. "Oh god, Oh god, Oh god." she kept saying.
"She's all yours," Paul said. He sat calmly in a chair beside the bed, but the bulge in his pants belied his calm. I could tell he was excited as I was.
I began by unsnapping the front of her corset. She was beautiful in it, but I wanted her prefect white skin exposed. He kept saying "Oh god, Oh god" with each small unhooking until finally her corset fell open and her breasts, still high and firm and impossibly beautiful, heaving with her breath.
I tasted her right nipple. It was salty and musky. She stopped talking and let out a low moan. I began to see why men like the fact that I am vocal when they are having me. Her voice positively cried with pent up lust and desire. I took my time with her nipple, feeling he rsqirm, listening to her moan. She pulled at the ties but she could only move a small amount.
I began to go from nipple to nipple, taking it between my lips soft and deep, the way I like Paul to treat ine. She would cry out, a little whimper, every time I moved from one to the other. My hands caressed her side, her thighs, her flat belly as I took my time with her nipples. Then she gasped and I felt her stiffen and she whimpered.
"Oh my God." she said again. "I had no idea."
"What? " I asked.
I'm not a virgin, but that was my first orgasm. It was so much more than I expected."
"We're not done." I told her. I began to kiss down her belly, then kissed her thighs. She was trembling. So was I, I think. Finally, I moved between her legs.
She was swollen and wet. My toungue found the prefect spot on her clit easily and I was relejtless licking her. She cried out again, and then again, and finally slumped. "Please," she whispered. "Please, no more. Please, I have to please you. Please."
We untied her. She sat up and her corset fell off. She reached out and kissed me gently. "Thank you." she said.
"You're not done." Paul reminded her.
She nodded and moved behind me. She began to unlace the back of my corset. (I had no snaps on the front.)l Not completely, just enough that my breasts fell out, yet still cupped slightly by the corset. Paul had thought of everything. I looked full and firmer than my 42 years as I lay back on the bed.
"Now," Paul said, "Treat Charlotte exactly the way she treated you."
She tied me to the bed. Then carefully she began to kiss my nipple. She was so gentle. Tender. IT was like a big tease. I was aroused, but I could not get as worked up as she was. I shut my eyes and luxuriated in the warm wetness of her lips on my nipple.
Suddenly I felt another set of lips on my other nipple. Paul! I know I gasped. How could I not. Her, tender and slow. Him hard and hungry. It was like someone had shot me full of sexual energy . I felt the tension build up in me so fast it was frightening and I came, crying out in a loud scream that I could hardly believe was me.
"Now," Paul told her. "Between her legs. Drive her crazy. Now."
Her tempo changed. It was as if his commands ignited her and she pressed her face between my legs with energy, and began to lick and suck me with passion. This time is was me crying out. My hand moved to her dark head and pushed her harder against me, I was hungry for her. crazy hungry and again, I felt that familiar rise. This one, I knew would be a big one. It grew, and when it washed over me I thought I was going to die, it was so powerful. I pulled on my ties. One of them broke loose as I let it wash over me, gasping. Tears running down my face.
When I came down, Leighton was on her knees back between my legs, a very satisfied look on her face. Her lips glistened with my juices. I came down slowly, my chest heaving as I gathered my breath, when I heard Paul call out.
"Leighton. You aren't done yet"
I turned my head to where he sat in his chair. He was unzipping his pants.
"Come here." he said, point to the spot in front of him.
She knelt. Suddenly looking very young again, unsure what to do.
"Charlotte. Tell her just how I like it."
I hesitated. Paul had shared me before. Several times. And I knew some day I would have to let another woman have him. But I was unsure if I was ready."
"Charlotte." he said, with just a hint more firmness in his voice. "Tell her."
I was helpless to resist.
"Begin by licking him. Lick his shaft. Slowly. Lick his cock head. Slowly."
I watched, almost paralyzed as she licked him. His cock, so beautiful and firm, shaven and swollen, looked amazing. Her tentativeness aroused me. I knew the feeling, that she was experienceing just what we talked about, new sexual bounderies. I watched until I saw the first hints of his hips starting to move. I knew that sign well.
"Now, take his cock head between your lips. Not hard. Let him pump you. That's what he likes to do. He'll take your head and push it gently when he is ready to go deeper. WHen he does, move closer and take just a little more into your mouth. Let him be your guide. Don't worry. He won't gag you. He's not cruel."
And I watched as this young, amazingly beautiful, perfect bodied woman slowly got her face fucked by my man. I was jealous, excited, helpless, all of these things. I watched his cock slowly inch deeper and deerp in his mouth as his hips pumped her. His rythmn sped up. He pushed her deeper. Not quite all the way. Maybe five inches of him. I could tell he was close to coming. Part of me hated watching, part of me could not help it.
"Should I come in her mouth, Charlotte?" I knew she would have done it. She was as much under his control as I was with my ties. But I could also tell she was afraid.
"No." I said, my voice husky. "Pull out. Shoot on her."
He nodded, pumping her faster and faster.then suddenly pulling back and pulling her face from him. His cum shot and grazed her chin, and landed on her neck, dripping down to her breasts. Her chest rose and fell. Her hands reached up and touched his cum as it slid down her breast. A look of amazement, like she could not believe what had just happened to her.
And she probably couldn't.
A few minutes went by. Paul's cock grew flacid. Paul gentlu moved her to one side of the chair.
"Stay there." he said.
He got up and untied me. He led me off the bed. Standing, kissing me gently, he untied the rest of my corset, then stood back and let it fall to the ground. He sat back in the chair. "Now," he said, "Show her how it's done."
I so wanted to do this right. It had been exciting watching her suck Paul, but he was mine, and I strangely felt I had something to prove. I know sometimes, not all the time, but sometimes, Paul can be sucked hard a second time. He claims he knows almost immediately after coming if he has the second go around in him. I was hoping he knew this time and was setting me up for the best. I took his half hard cock in my mouth.
I worship Paul's cock. Honestly, it's crazy how much I love it. I love the taste, I love the feel of it (He shaves it smooth). I love how it feels in my hand, in my lips, in me. It's the perfect sze. and the way it responds to me is like a constant reassurance of how much he loves and desires me.
For a minute or so, nothing happened, but then I felt it stir in my mouth. I set on it in earnest then. I was hungry for him. And he responded, growing harder and bigger. It's my feeling that on these second go arounds, he's bigger than the first, but I've never been able to prove it. But he feels bigger.
I glanced at Leighton, and she was staring. It was like she was mesmerized, watching.
Paul grew to his full size. And then he began to pump my face. Slowly. Deeply In and out of my mouth. After three years, and lots of practice, I know that I can take all of his nearly seven inches. I can take him and once I have worked him in, I can let him totally face fuck me, all the way, hard in hard out, until he comes. And that is what I could tell he wanted tonight. He didn't hold my head. He knows I will simply do it for him, that I will let him have his way with my mouth until he comes.
And he did, with one hard thrust deep into my mouth, the last little dribs of cum from his first go around filling my mouth with that salty taste.
I looked at Leighton again. She was crying and smiling. "That was amazing." she said. "I want to be able to do that some day.".
From there, we fell into bed. Paul got undressed and the three of us spooned, Paul against my back, Me against Leighton's back. We slept.
Yes, there was sex the next morning. I won't go into detail on that because it was something different, more spontaneous, less crazy. But good. Maybe another story even. But the magic of this night was watching another woman get initiated into submission the right way, where she feels respected and protected, yet able to be taken and commanded. That was a gift she gave us that night, and a gift we gave her. It was amazing.
We stay in touch. She's still, two months later, sifting through her emotions. I don't know if we'll meet again. Generally we don't with the people we play with. It's a one night thing. But there is something about her. With her, we might. We just might.
Most of the time, the names of anyone else has been changed but in Leighton's case, I've used her real name and town because, well, she asked me too.
Leighton, you see, is a fan. I don't now why it never really occurred to me before her that I had fans. I have, after all, written a few stories and put them "out there" for you and others to read. As close as I can tell, a few thousand people have read each of them and that is just totally mind boggling to me. It makes me feel very exposed, even more than if I posted pictures. It's just delicious.
And yes, a few of you e-mail me from time to time and a couple of you have even become friends, people I write to regularly and even share a few pictures with now and then.
But fans? That was different in my mind. Singers have fans. Actresses have fans, Novelists have fans I am a soon to be 43 year old woman living (other than my sex life) a very ordinary life. I have a regular job. I have a house. I'm divorced. I work in the yard. I am not model perfect body wise and make no pretensions of perfection. I have, in fact, the normal array of womanly insecurities.
The past three years, since I met Paul, have been an adventure in learning and accepting who and what I am sexually and I have ended up with a sex life that was unimaginable to me three years ago. Again, you regular readers have shared the journey with me as I sporadically shared the highlights in my stories. But fans? I never thought about it.
Until I started getting e-mails from Leighton.
She wrote me, she said, because she felt like she shared something of my spirit, that as she read my stories, she felt something in her stir. She was beginning to realize who she was, and what she wanted in a relationship. And she wanted to have someone to talk to about it. It wasn't, she said, something she could talk about with her friends and family. She was from Columbia, South Carolina, a very conservative town. "My friends would never get it if I told them that what I really want in a relationship is the same kind of loving submission you give Paul.
She was very sweet, and very articulate, and we began to write regularly. "I am such a fan." she said. "It's like talking to a movie star for me, I want to have the life and relationship you have."
I was flattered. But I also know my path has had some bumps. My stories only talk about the highlights, the hottest sexiest times. I wouldn't suggest anyone use my stories as a role model. They are just my stories. So we began to write back and forth. She was a delight. Smart, Thoughtful. Just a couple of years out of college. A good job. She was very in touch with herself, the result, she said, of going into therapy while in college and sticking with it for three years. She seemed remarkably together for a twenty three year old woman. Certainly I don't think I was that together at her age.
Somewhere along the way, she sent me a picture. She was very shy about it, but she was beautiful. She has a body like mine - full breasted, narrow wasted, full hips. Dark hair, long and straight. Full lips and that perfect skin of youth. I looked at her breasts and for the first time, I think I understood why you guys are so attracted to a woman's breast. They were perfect, full, high on her chest, with pink nipples that were hard and pronounced.
"I've never taken a naked picture of myself before." she wrote. "I hope it's OK. I hope I look OK."
She was beautiful. I was almost afraid to send her a picture of me, but Paul has taken a few that I feel good about, and I sent her one. We began to share pictures along with our words. She would write me and tell me how the shots I shared with her, often ones of my being tied up, or with nipple clips, made her feel. She share what fantasies came to her mind.
One day, she asked me if I could send her a picture of Pau'ls cock. "I've read your stories and I've read your blog." she wrote. "And I know you have an oral fetish. I think I might too, and I would so love to see the cock that you worship so."
How could I resist? I send her one, then others, of his cock in my hand, or between my lips. She was so enthusiastic in her praise. Her words made me feel even more that I have something and someone special. She was almost rapturous, and her rapture and desire fed my own. Lucky Paul got more than the normal number of bow jobs for the next couple of months,
She was also fascinated by my submission, She seemed to totally understand that me, it's; not about Paul's making me be submissive and dominating me in the stereotyped "Dom" role, Not, it's about my wanting to give myself and my submission to him as a gift, my wanting to please him by allowing him to push the boundries of our sex life. Because I wanted those boundaries to be stretched, but on my own, I don't think I would ever have taken the steps. But with him in the lead, taking me on a sexual journey, his confidence gave me confidence, and I found myself doing things at his "command" that I would have never done with anyone else.
"I so know how you feel." Leighton wrote me one day. "I want to experience that kind of giving of myself, and being at someone else's, loving, tender command."
Then one day, she asked if I had shared her pictures and e-mails with Paul. No, I told her. I had not. I had assumed they were private.
"Would you, please?" she wrote back. I could almost hear the little girl sound of her voice.
So I showed them, and the entire chain of e-mails. He reaction was just what I could have predicted. He loved her look and that night, we fantasized about having Leighton in our bed. The sex was hard and hot that night. The next day, when she asked about his reaction, I told her everything, about how his cock rose and swelled at the look of her, and how, as we talked about her, his swollen cock pounded me relentlessly until he came hard inside me. Yes, I assured her, he liked her just fine.
Now, we had been writing and sharing our desires for nearly three months. I felt like she was a little sister, a sexy little sister. And I guessed I should have seen it coming. But I didn't.
The email read....."Do you think there is any possibility you and Paul would have sex with me, for real? I so want to experience submissive sex and I know you would treat me kindly. I want to experience it without fear."
Now, I get guys writing me that all the time. Most of the time though, they are one line wonders. This was a woman I had come to know, who was, in truth, very sexy to Paul and to me. We had had sex with her on our minds more than once. I had fingered myself imagining it was her more than once. I love men most, but I HAD experienced a woman once and it was good. And Leighton was something special, physically and as a person.
I told her I had to think about it. But honestly, I didn't. I knew I wanted to. I just had to gather my thoughts about it because I was suddenly crazy in lust with the idea.
I called Paul. "Please?" I asked. "I know you always pick the people we've played with before. But I really want to have sex with Leighton. You can stay in control. You can tell us both what to do. I'll let her have sex with you. Please? I'll do anything."
I don't think I had ever been so desperate. I can't tell you why really. I just know that this young girl, with her soft and firm body, her submissive spirit and deep desire to test her submissive nature against reality had me crazy lustful.
"Get me her phone number." Paul said. "We'll see."
The next two weeks, I knew she and Paul were talking, but I was out of the loop. It was between them. "Trust me." Paul said. When I asked Leighton what was going on she only said "Trust Paul." I was going crazy.
Finally, one Wednesday night, after Paul and I had finsihed making love and were lying entwined in the afterglow, Paul said quietly, "You'll need to pack for a trip this weekend. I'll pick you up after work. I'll tell you just what to wear. We are going to Columbia."
Columbia, South Carolina! That's where Leighton lived.
I called her the next morning from work. Yes, it was all set up. We'd meet Saturday night for dinner. We'd spend the night together. Paul had told her just what to wear too, and she accepted that we would both be at his command for the night. And like me, she was crazy at the thought. "I can hardly function at work." she told me. I knew the feeling. I've had it every time Paul let me know ahead of time that I was going to be shared with someone else. And now both Leighton and I were experiencing it.
The drive to Columbia was crazy. I was in my work suit and Paul had me fingering myself for hours. I came like crazy. When we got into the suite, he had me on my knees and I gave him a majrly loving blow job. The next morning I woke up and there was sex again. The day dragged along. About four, I began to get ready.
For me, getting ready for sex is like foreplay. The whole time I bathe, do my hair, my nails, my makeup, I am thinking about the impression I will make on the other person (or people.) Dressing is crazy, I seem to feel the fabric more than you can imagine. I look at myself with eyes of lust, and stop often as I put on my lingerie, my stockings, my dress.
This night, Paul had me in a black 1940's style cocktail dress. Very pinup. Pencil skirt with a lowish cut bodice, with frills around the collar. I wore my black brocade corset underneath, and Paul cinched the corset to the point my cleavage was high and hard to miss. Black lace stockings. I felt so deliciously trampy. I knew men would be looking at me at the restaurant, but I was really thinking about what Leighton would think. Would I fit the image she had of me? Was it too much? Not enough?
We went downstairs and out the door to our car. Then to the restaurant. He had reserved a table smack in the middle of the room. Eyes followed me as I entered. I was so turned on. By the eyes.. By the look of lust in Paul's eyes. In anticipation. We sat at the table and Paul ordered champagne.
Then Leighton was at the door. I thought I would faint. Paul had dressed her too. I could see the touches. Where I was in back and white, she was in white. A summery white dress. High heeled white sandals. The dress was sheer and you could see the white corset underneath. Behind her, the light picked out her curves. The dress was unbuttoned a button or two too law to be appropriate. I could tell she was uneasy. I was too, the first time Paul had dresed me to show me off.
Paul rose and went to get her. He took her by the hand and began to lead her to our table. I don't know what he said to her, but she laughed and visibly relaxed. I was wet. Just like that, I was wet between my legs.
Paul brought her to the table and introduced us. We hugged, hanging on to each other tighter than a normal meet and greet might indicate.
Don't ask me what we talked about over dinner. I remember I felt relaxed, but aroused the whole time I felt very aware of my corset and what I would look like when my dress came off. The wetness lingered, because I wore no panties under the corset and dress. I was smooth down there. If I knew Paul, she was too. The thought got me going all over.
I was very aware of all the men looking. I know she was too. I'd experienced it before and I still get excited when I am dressed sexy in public. But for her, it was a first time and she was almost glowing in the admiration. There was a flush in her cheeks. And Paul was enjoying it too. I could tell. Having all those men look at us and wish they were him just made him smile with an enigmatic smile. He knew what was coming was more than the men watching would believe, that what they might fantasize about, he was going to experience.
Finally dinner was done. We had finished two bottle of champagne. Even the coffee after dinner didn't take the buzz off. Paul rose. He reached into his pocket and brought out two scarves. "Trust me." he said as he went behind Leighton and tied the white one over her eyes. "Trust me" he said, as he tied the black one around my head. Then, having us stand, he led us from the room. I can't even imagine what people there were thinking, or what the valet parking guys must have thought.
They brought our car, and Paul installed us both in the back seat. He got in the driver's seat. "Feel free to kiss and explore, he said. Just remember I'll be taking you through a lobby, so I'd suggest you leave the clothes on,
Our first kisses were sweet and tender. Our first touches were tentative. But emotion has it's own power and the kisses became hungrier. Our hands became bolder. Then suddenly we stopped. Leighton and I separated, breathless. Paul opened the car door, leading me out, then reaching in for Leighton. He led us through the lobby, which fell quiet as we walked through. I can't imagine what we looked like in our corset enhanced, cleavage showing dresses and our lipstick smeared lips. Frankly, at that point, I didn't care.
The elevator ride and the walk down the hall seemed to take FOREVER. Finally we got to the suite. I realized that Leighton had shown amazing trust in us. I at least knew what hotel we were in. She had come with no idea. We entered, and Paul removed our blindfolds.
We were both rumpled, but she looked so beautiful in her white dress.
"Charlotte," Leighton's dress is lovely, but I think it's time you remove it.
I've undressed men before, but this was the first time I undressed a woman. I was slow about it. Half awkward and half wanting to savor it. Her chest rose and fell as she breathed heavily. Neither of us said a world. I unbuttoned the back (It WOULD be buttons! One of Pau's touches to extend the moment.), then lifted it over her head.
She was breathtaking. Once she had called herself a "wallflower" but she wasn't at all. Her corset was only slightly cinched but her breasts were so perfect they seemed to lift up on their own. And like me, Paul had made sure there were no panties. She was shaved smooth. I pulled her close and issed her tenderly. Her toungue flickered n and out of my mouth
"Now, Leighton, your turn."
If I felt awkward, so was she. But my dress came off easier, again probably on purpose. One long zip down the side and then over my head. and we were both there, exposed in our corsets.
"Leighton. On the bed. On your back," She nodded and moved.
Paul went to our little black bag and pulled out silk ties. He handed me two.
How many times have I been tied with these? I could not begin to count. We tied her, spread gently, not tight, on the bed. She was still, but not quiet. "Oh god, Oh god, Oh god." she kept saying.
"She's all yours," Paul said. He sat calmly in a chair beside the bed, but the bulge in his pants belied his calm. I could tell he was excited as I was.
I began by unsnapping the front of her corset. She was beautiful in it, but I wanted her prefect white skin exposed. He kept saying "Oh god, Oh god" with each small unhooking until finally her corset fell open and her breasts, still high and firm and impossibly beautiful, heaving with her breath.
I tasted her right nipple. It was salty and musky. She stopped talking and let out a low moan. I began to see why men like the fact that I am vocal when they are having me. Her voice positively cried with pent up lust and desire. I took my time with her nipple, feeling he rsqirm, listening to her moan. She pulled at the ties but she could only move a small amount.
I began to go from nipple to nipple, taking it between my lips soft and deep, the way I like Paul to treat ine. She would cry out, a little whimper, every time I moved from one to the other. My hands caressed her side, her thighs, her flat belly as I took my time with her nipples. Then she gasped and I felt her stiffen and she whimpered.
"Oh my God." she said again. "I had no idea."
"What? " I asked.
I'm not a virgin, but that was my first orgasm. It was so much more than I expected."
"We're not done." I told her. I began to kiss down her belly, then kissed her thighs. She was trembling. So was I, I think. Finally, I moved between her legs.
She was swollen and wet. My toungue found the prefect spot on her clit easily and I was relejtless licking her. She cried out again, and then again, and finally slumped. "Please," she whispered. "Please, no more. Please, I have to please you. Please."
We untied her. She sat up and her corset fell off. She reached out and kissed me gently. "Thank you." she said.
"You're not done." Paul reminded her.
She nodded and moved behind me. She began to unlace the back of my corset. (I had no snaps on the front.)l Not completely, just enough that my breasts fell out, yet still cupped slightly by the corset. Paul had thought of everything. I looked full and firmer than my 42 years as I lay back on the bed.
"Now," Paul said, "Treat Charlotte exactly the way she treated you."
She tied me to the bed. Then carefully she began to kiss my nipple. She was so gentle. Tender. IT was like a big tease. I was aroused, but I could not get as worked up as she was. I shut my eyes and luxuriated in the warm wetness of her lips on my nipple.
Suddenly I felt another set of lips on my other nipple. Paul! I know I gasped. How could I not. Her, tender and slow. Him hard and hungry. It was like someone had shot me full of sexual energy . I felt the tension build up in me so fast it was frightening and I came, crying out in a loud scream that I could hardly believe was me.
"Now," Paul told her. "Between her legs. Drive her crazy. Now."
Her tempo changed. It was as if his commands ignited her and she pressed her face between my legs with energy, and began to lick and suck me with passion. This time is was me crying out. My hand moved to her dark head and pushed her harder against me, I was hungry for her. crazy hungry and again, I felt that familiar rise. This one, I knew would be a big one. It grew, and when it washed over me I thought I was going to die, it was so powerful. I pulled on my ties. One of them broke loose as I let it wash over me, gasping. Tears running down my face.
When I came down, Leighton was on her knees back between my legs, a very satisfied look on her face. Her lips glistened with my juices. I came down slowly, my chest heaving as I gathered my breath, when I heard Paul call out.
"Leighton. You aren't done yet"
I turned my head to where he sat in his chair. He was unzipping his pants.
"Come here." he said, point to the spot in front of him.
She knelt. Suddenly looking very young again, unsure what to do.
"Charlotte. Tell her just how I like it."
I hesitated. Paul had shared me before. Several times. And I knew some day I would have to let another woman have him. But I was unsure if I was ready."
"Charlotte." he said, with just a hint more firmness in his voice. "Tell her."
I was helpless to resist.
"Begin by licking him. Lick his shaft. Slowly. Lick his cock head. Slowly."
I watched, almost paralyzed as she licked him. His cock, so beautiful and firm, shaven and swollen, looked amazing. Her tentativeness aroused me. I knew the feeling, that she was experienceing just what we talked about, new sexual bounderies. I watched until I saw the first hints of his hips starting to move. I knew that sign well.
"Now, take his cock head between your lips. Not hard. Let him pump you. That's what he likes to do. He'll take your head and push it gently when he is ready to go deeper. WHen he does, move closer and take just a little more into your mouth. Let him be your guide. Don't worry. He won't gag you. He's not cruel."
And I watched as this young, amazingly beautiful, perfect bodied woman slowly got her face fucked by my man. I was jealous, excited, helpless, all of these things. I watched his cock slowly inch deeper and deerp in his mouth as his hips pumped her. His rythmn sped up. He pushed her deeper. Not quite all the way. Maybe five inches of him. I could tell he was close to coming. Part of me hated watching, part of me could not help it.
"Should I come in her mouth, Charlotte?" I knew she would have done it. She was as much under his control as I was with my ties. But I could also tell she was afraid.
"No." I said, my voice husky. "Pull out. Shoot on her."
He nodded, pumping her faster and faster.then suddenly pulling back and pulling her face from him. His cum shot and grazed her chin, and landed on her neck, dripping down to her breasts. Her chest rose and fell. Her hands reached up and touched his cum as it slid down her breast. A look of amazement, like she could not believe what had just happened to her.
And she probably couldn't.
A few minutes went by. Paul's cock grew flacid. Paul gentlu moved her to one side of the chair.
"Stay there." he said.
He got up and untied me. He led me off the bed. Standing, kissing me gently, he untied the rest of my corset, then stood back and let it fall to the ground. He sat back in the chair. "Now," he said, "Show her how it's done."
I so wanted to do this right. It had been exciting watching her suck Paul, but he was mine, and I strangely felt I had something to prove. I know sometimes, not all the time, but sometimes, Paul can be sucked hard a second time. He claims he knows almost immediately after coming if he has the second go around in him. I was hoping he knew this time and was setting me up for the best. I took his half hard cock in my mouth.
I worship Paul's cock. Honestly, it's crazy how much I love it. I love the taste, I love the feel of it (He shaves it smooth). I love how it feels in my hand, in my lips, in me. It's the perfect sze. and the way it responds to me is like a constant reassurance of how much he loves and desires me.
For a minute or so, nothing happened, but then I felt it stir in my mouth. I set on it in earnest then. I was hungry for him. And he responded, growing harder and bigger. It's my feeling that on these second go arounds, he's bigger than the first, but I've never been able to prove it. But he feels bigger.
I glanced at Leighton, and she was staring. It was like she was mesmerized, watching.
Paul grew to his full size. And then he began to pump my face. Slowly. Deeply In and out of my mouth. After three years, and lots of practice, I know that I can take all of his nearly seven inches. I can take him and once I have worked him in, I can let him totally face fuck me, all the way, hard in hard out, until he comes. And that is what I could tell he wanted tonight. He didn't hold my head. He knows I will simply do it for him, that I will let him have his way with my mouth until he comes.
And he did, with one hard thrust deep into my mouth, the last little dribs of cum from his first go around filling my mouth with that salty taste.
I looked at Leighton again. She was crying and smiling. "That was amazing." she said. "I want to be able to do that some day.".
From there, we fell into bed. Paul got undressed and the three of us spooned, Paul against my back, Me against Leighton's back. We slept.
Yes, there was sex the next morning. I won't go into detail on that because it was something different, more spontaneous, less crazy. But good. Maybe another story even. But the magic of this night was watching another woman get initiated into submission the right way, where she feels respected and protected, yet able to be taken and commanded. That was a gift she gave us that night, and a gift we gave her. It was amazing.
We stay in touch. She's still, two months later, sifting through her emotions. I don't know if we'll meet again. Generally we don't with the people we play with. It's a one night thing. But there is something about her. With her, we might. We just might.
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