Thursday, February 28, 2013

Scene: Be a good boy

The room is dark except for the ring of light I am sitting within. I hear a door open as a whimpering figure is kicked in from a deeper darkness. A hard voice says, “You'd better serve her. You'd better please her or you'll get a hell of a lot worse.” The whimpering draws closer with a faint rustling noise.

I knew he was crawling across the floor. I could nearly smell the sweaty musk of terror edged lust as he came forward. I tapped the riding crop against the leg of the chair with an idle impatience. I could almost feel him shrink away. I could nearly drink his fear from the very air itself.

As he drew close enough for his dark hair to be visible on the top of his head, a wave of irritation rose up in me. Wasn't he here to serve me? Should he be eager for the task as an obedient slave should always be?

Acting on the emotion, I leaned forward and grabbed a fistful of his hair, pulling him forward. “Don't dawdle, slave,” I snapped, feeling warmed by the rush of power as he yelped and scrambled to crouch at my feet. “I should beat you black for such laziness,” I observed, noting the stiffening of his erection. “I see you are at least obedient in that respect,” I drawled, amused by the embaressed flush over his cheeks.

I let go of his hair and leaned forward, peering closely into his eyes. I knew it was the striping earlier with the lash and cane that did it earlier. He was now most likely very close to full erection and pain from denied release. I knew my conspirator had ordered him to crawl to me, for it was part of his humiliation and the plan.

Now, he stared at me, imploring me for a beating with his eyes, begging for the orgasm as the lash bites into his back. “That's not just for me, is it, boy?” I asked with a cruel smile. He blinked in confusion and a touch of anxiety lurked in his gaze. I sighed, my voice sliding into my lower register as I tapped the end of the crop against the purpled head of his erection. I purred with amusement, “This is because of a man, isn't it?”

His eyes widened as the flush of embaressment and shame washed over his skin, a crystalline note of horror brightening his eyes. His expression shocked, he ever so minutely shook his head. “Don't lie to me, slave,” I continued in my husky purr as I twitched the end of the crop against his erection. I entwined my fingers in his hair as I smiled. Lightly I pulled on his hair, amused as he struggled with the urge to close his eyes in ecstasy.

He was more beautiful in anguish then I had even realized. I let go of his hair and leaned back, looking him over and contemplating this realization. The excitement thrummed through his body like a well plucked harp string. Oh, how he was going to hate me.

I leaned back further in the chair, moving the crop away from my lap as I spread my legs. I lightly tugged his head forward. Excitement lit in his gaze as he brought his face forward to rest against the inside of my thigh. The disappointment and frustration was yet to come, but it will be delicious. Letting him think that oral service would lead to something more, I smiled down at him.

“Ease my need, boy,” I said, “Pleasure me with your mouth.” His shoulders slumped slightly when he realized that this was not going to turn into a game of hide the penis. I snapped the crop against the side of the chair, making him jump. “I said eat me, slave,” I ordered, allowing a note of menace to creep into my voice, “Or do you want to upset me?”

His powerfully built body shuddered delicately as fear wedded itself to frustration and arousal. An uncertain motion of his hands, a lifting briefly in the air to settle again on his thighs, betrayed his confusion on how to proceed. I let the riding crop fall from my hand as I sat forward, reaching for him. I took hold of his hair and pulled his head back, forcing him to arch his back. I found myself briefly speechless at the beauty of how the muscles of his chest and arms struggled with the effort not to flail.

“Do it,” I demanded, “Or I'll send you back.” That was when it shone in his eyes, the fear of one's dominator. “Oh yes, I won't beat you, but he will,” I hissed and he squirmed. His eye brightened with tears in a silent plea for mercy. I resettled myself in the chair, letting go of him with a shake, and adding, “Don't you dare touch yourself.”

He cautiously nestled his face between my thighs. Hesitantly, he gave a gentle lick at my labia. He pauses for a moment and then does so again, emboldened by my silent approval. As he begins to be more vigorous in his exploration of my sex with his tongue, I sigh with pleasure. Between my thighs, I hear him struggle with the urge to sigh with his own delight. I consider if our next session would require silence or not.
Briefly distracted by the thought, I failed to immediately notice when he slowed in his efforts. With a sigh, I say, “I should have you beaten black. I should have him do it.” Unable to restrain the casual cruelty in my voice, I add, “You'd like that, wouldn't you?” He gasped quietly. In that same menacing tone, I add, “I didn't tell you to stop. Lick faster.”

He applies himself to the task with greater fervor. “Ah, good,” I sigh as I feel the beginning of my orgasm building. I feel his cheek warm against my thigh and I realize that he is blushing from my praise. “Mmm,” I sigh, smiling at the thought that occurred to me, “Cum when I tell you. Do not touch your self, just cum when you are told.” He whimpers in frustration and urges on my hunger to torment him.

As my climax very nearly reaches its peak, I tell him harshly, “Cum, slave. Cum for me now.” Hot tears of frustration roll down his cheeks as he whimpers. In his anguish, he pushes me over the edge of my own climax and I shudder with pleasure, pleasure that is made even sweeter in the fact that he will be beaten for his own failure to climax and that said beating will force him into one at the hand of a man, thus humiliating him further.

Scene: Dancing

I smiled at the sound of the music. It was nothing terribly exciting but I couldn't help the sense of pleasure that arose at the thought of dancing to it. As the slow Middle Eastern influenced song seemed to throb in the air, I closed my eyes and allowed the music to speak to me. Standing off by myself in a corner of the club near the speakers, I could feel the beat vibrating through the floor. Slowly, I lifted my hands and began to move my hips

I ignored all of the people around me and focused more on the sensation of moving with the music. Little did I realize that I had caught the attention of several people. Somewhere along the way, I opened my eyes and discovered my lover staring at me. I gave him a wicked grin before making an explicitly lavacious movement of my hips. Ignoring the others watching me, I continued to dance while making eye contact with him.

With each roll of my shoulders, each sinuous shimmy, and slow, serpentine movement of my arms, I could feel the phantom touch of his hands on me. I closed my eyes again, moving as though his hands were upon me and we were slowly writhing together. I could feel someone come up behind me to attempt to join my dance. I ignored them, opening my eyes again to gaze hotly at him.

He set his drink down as I started to walk towards him, still dancing. A few of the others who were watching me stepped aside. When I reached the table, he looked up at me. The song ended as I came to a halt before him. He looked up at me and gestured to the seat beside him. I sat down. I reached over and picked up his drink. Looking deliberately into his eyes, I finished it and then set it down on the table before him.

“Let's get out of here,” I said. He smiled and motioned me out of my seat. He handed me my jacket and purse before standing up. Rising with a suggestion of that swaying dance of earlier in my body, I gave him a richly suggestive smile before I put my jacket on. We walked out of the noisy club and the silence was deafening.

As we walked around the corner of the building, he took hold of my shoulder. I looked over and he suddenly backed me into the wall. Pressed against the cold bricks, I looked up at him. He leaned down. As his mouth closed hungrily over mine, I set my hand against his cheek. I smiled in to the kiss as he wrapped his free arm around my waist.

He held me hard against himself. I could feel his erection through the layers of clothes between us and I grinned as he broke the kiss. “Is that so?” I teased. He stepped back and took me by the hand. We walked across the parking lot and to his car. As we got in, I considered our options and thought about how quickly I could wriggle out of my clothes. Caught in such contemplation, I ignored the drive to his apartment.

We were inside soon enough and he was kicking off his shoes as I hung up my jacket. He smiled as I leaned forward to untie my own shoes. His hand caressed the back of my left thigh and I froze. The softness of his touch only made my attention focus harder on it. I licked my lips in a small, nervous gesture as his hand traced lazy circles against my skin.

I found myself half expecting him to raise the skirt I was wearing but he didn't. Instead, he stepped up behind me and pressed his hips against me. “Mmm,” he said, “I like this idea. Keep the shoes on.” I looked at the heels, suddenly concerned that I might lose my balance if we remained like this for much longer.

He held my hips firmly against himself as he ground his own against me. My eyes fluttered closed as I felt a rush of arousal at the very visceral suggestion he made. He reached down against the outside of my right thigh and took a handful of fabric. He lifted it up and piled it on my ass. Soon, he had my legs bared.

He made a thoughtful noise as he ran a finger tip down the garter to the top of the back of my right stocking. The faint touch of his fingers against the back of my upper thigh made me shiver. Gently, he caressed my bare skin, moving his touch from the outside of my leg across the back to the inside.

He knelt and pressed his lips against the back of my left leg just beside the garter strap. I gasped as his hand moved from teasing my thigh to massaging my sex through my panties. He breathed hotly on the inside of my leg as his hands moved to the top of the waist band of my panties. He smiled against my leg as he briefly slipped a fingertip between the top of my garter belt and my lower stomach.

He then hooked his fingers into the narrow gap that was between the two garments and pulled down my panties as far as the garters would let him. He took in a deep breath, making a soft groan at the scent of my arousal. He sat back on his heels and his hands came away from me. Soon there was the soft click of his pocket knife being opened. Taking a firm grasp on my panties, he cut up the back of one leg and then the other.

He pulled the fabric away and dropped it too the floor before standing. After a moment, I heard the soft thump of his pants falling to the floor. I gasped as the head of his erection pressed against my increasingly slick vulva. Slowly, relentlessly he pressed himself against my opening and pushed his way in. My eyes rolled and I shuddered at the way he made me feel almost painfully full. When he was in as deeply as he could go, he began to pull out with the same agonizing slowness.

I gave a small whimper but he ignored it. As he thrust in with painful slowness, I became increasingly aroused and slicker. Soon, there was no resistance as I shuddered with an orgasm. He stopped after I had a third, shuddering climax. He wrapped an arm around my waist, holding me impaled on his rock hard erection. As he did so, he reached up and grabbed a fistful of my hair.

He forced me to arch my back and I made a pained noise of pleasure. The hand at my waist moved under my skirt. As a fingertip brushed against my clitoris, I gave a little cry of surprise. He reached a little lower, teasing the nexus of where his penis was buried deep in my sopping vagina. Satisfied that his fingertip was slick enough, he began to tease my clitoris. I gave a squeal of surprise again and then gasped as an orgasm rocked me.

My legs began to shake with the effort of keeping myself standing as he ripped more orgasms out of me. When he stopped manipulating my throbbing clitoris, he again wrapped his arm around my waist. The folds of fabric from my skirt teased my skin like the phantom hands of another lover as he began to thrust into me again. I have a strangled, choking noise as I shuddered again and again. He stopped after a short while and let go of my hair.

Holding me on him, he turned us to face the door. “Put your hands on the door,” he said, pushing me forward so that I was looking down at the floor. I braced myself against the door as his fingernails dug into my hips. He began thrusting fast and hard. My knees became weak but his hard grip on me did not allow me the luxury of that weakness.

Somewhere in the blinding pleasure of his fucking and the painful struggle to remain standing, I started to cum repeatedly. I sobbed in frustration and pleasure. This only encouraged him to become rougher with me. The slap of his hips meeting mine brought small, animal noises from me as he groaned. Soon, he could feel his own climax drawing near. Fucking me with all he was worth, I soon found myself blinded with my own. Each powerful thrust got a louder little cry from me, incoherent babbling for more. By the time he finally came, I was wordlessly shrieking in pleasure.

He paused, remaining deep within me as his erection faded. He could see the effort of holding myself up was making me shake. With a smile, he stepped back. Taking up a bit of my skirt, he wiped our mingled fluids off of his penis. I stood up, my skirt falling back into place and his spunk starting to drip down the inside of my thighs. I watched him put on his pants and put his dropped knife back into his pocket.

I shivered at the intense look he gave me. “I hope you didn't think I was done with you,” he said, a note of amused menace creeping into his voice. I couldn't help my eyes widening in surprise. He stepped up close to me, using his height to loom over me. He put a hand on either side of my head against the door and leaned down. “Oh, no,” he said, that rich tone making his words warm and honeyed, “I'm just beginning.”

He closed his mouth over mine and I meweled as his kiss was hard and demanding. I squirmed and set my hands lightly on his chest. He broke the kiss and muttered hotly in my ear, “You're going to cum for me. You're going to do it right now.” I whimpered and squirmed, feeling the arousal pooling in my body. I opened my mouth to state that I couldn't with out his help. Then he bit my neck. I gave a surprised cry and flung my arms around him as my knees gave out beneath me with the force of the unexpected orgasm. As he ground my skin between his teeth, I arched and shuddered, giving a throaty groan.

He wrapped his arms tightly around me as I sagged against him. He grinned as he lifted his head away from where he had bitten me. An angry red mark stood up on my skin. With a puckish smirk, he gently blew across it. Another throaty groan came from me as I struggled to find my feet. Half dragging me, he stepped away from the door. I clung to him, my head lolling and tears of pleasure rolling down my cheek.

“Come with me,” he said, not giving me any choice in the matter as he dragged me with him across the room. He bent me over the table. On one hand, I was relieved because I wouldn't necessarily fall due to my sudden lust inspired weakness. At the same time, a part of me was nervous and unsure what was to happen next. He walked out of the room, leaving me to lay weakly where he had placed me.

When he returned, I heard the familiar hum of a vibrator. He flipped my skirt up and with out preamble, pressed the toy into me. I came immediately with a gasping cry. He sat down in a chair and steadily pumped the toy in and out of me. I squirmed and writhed as he drew orgasm after orgasm out of me. After a time that I simply couldn't fathom, he stopped with the toy. Little did I realize that enough time had passed that he was ready for round two.

His erection slid easily into me. So weakened from his earlier efforts that I was barely able to lift my head, I gave a long shuddering groan of pleasure. I whimpered and made all sorts of noises as he took his time using me to get off. His own quiet noises of pleasure served to throw me over the edge of orgasm as easily as the least of his movement. With pleasure so blindingly intense that it made it hard for me to breathe, I was helpless before him. I shuddered, not having the strength to even squirm. When he reached his second orgasm, my eyes rolled and I came so hard that I couldn't breathe.

When he pulled out of me, the last of my strength escaped me. With a weak sigh, I collapsed. As I began to slide off of the table when my legs folded beneath me, he caught me. I lolled in his arms, the blush from my final orgasm fading as he cradled me against himself.