Tag: dominant

The Drive

It’s late and we are only halfway through our drive. I’ve done my best to stay awake, but find my eyes simply won’t stay open.

I feel you look over at me before your hand slips lightly onto my bare knee. The hot humid air from outside is just barely made tolerable by the A/C and I’m grateful you told me to wear the shorter dress, even though I’m certain it wasn’t only for my comfort.

“I’m drowsy too, little girl. Stay awake and tell me a story.”

I force my eyes open and see the sleepiness in your eyes. But something else. That spark that makes me squeeze my thighs together and sigh. That expression that I simply cannot refuse.

“Yes, Sir,” I whisper, straightening myself in my seat before turning toward you. I lay my temple against the headrest and watch you, thinking about the story I might tell.

I know the kind of story you want, and my mind spins with ideas, but when your sad eyes capture mine, your gaze is like an antenna. Your story rolls off my tongue as though it had been waiting for release.

A heady mix of lust and passion with a hint of suspense and a dash of mystique bubbles up from that place deep inside me that you seem to access so easily.

I’m excited by the words I’ve woven for you. Your raspy sighs hint at your own arousal as well, and soon, your fingers skim upward from my knee, slipping beneath the hem of my cotton dress. My legs part, in their own submission to you, and I wonder if my body will ever listen to me in your presence.

As you reach the sheer fabric between my thighs, the low rumble from your throat signals your awareness of my wetness.

“Take them off, little girl. Let me see what’s mine.”

My whole body responds to your voice. Your words. Your ownership. I slowly raise my skirt over my hips and watch you suck in a breath at the sight of my sweet, lace edged panties with the satin bow in front. I slip my thumbs beneath the strings on either side and lift my bottom so that I can slide them down my now quivering thighs.

I start to leave them around my knees, but you whisper for me to give them to you, eliciting another surge of arousal from deep within me.

I tug them down, pulling my bare feet through them and fold them before placing them in your waiting hand, blushing furiously. Lifting them to your nose and inhaling deeply, the heat in my cheeks increases and I drop my chin to hide my embarrassment.

After stuffing them into your pocket, you lift my chin and growl, “So sweet, baby doll. …Now show me.”

Again, my thighs part and I lift my hem. The interior lights in the car are barely enough to see by, but my skin is clearly damp. I watch you intently. Will you tell me to touch myself? Will you reach for me? Will you simply force me to remain like this, exposed, for the rest of the trip?

You look up at my face which must give away my thoughts, because you chuckle softly and pat my knee, turning to watch the road. I let out a soft sigh and grip the edge of my dress in frustration. I try closing my eyes to quell my thoughts of taking matters into my own hands.

I may enjoy discipline, sometimes, but I don’t relish willfully disobeying you.

When I feel the car slow and turn off the highway, I lift my eyelids to look at you, but not out the window. Are you too tired to continue? Too aroused? Are you stopping for a hotel? You grin at me and nod your head toward the windshield as we stop completely.

We are looking out over a small city, on the edge of a large hill. It’s a beautiful sight, the twinkling lights off the town below us, against the starlit evening sky. The clearing is small, but we aren’t far from the highway. I look back into your eyes, “Where are we, Sir?”

You do not answer. Instead, rolling down the windows and switching off the ignition before unlatching your seatbelt and turning toward me with clear motive written all over your face. Your fingers unlatch my own belt, sliding over my belly and leaning in closely so that I can feel your warm breath on my face.

I start to pant, your proximity turning me into a bubble of desire just waiting to be popped. The night breeze blows through the car and across my naked flesh making me open myself wider.

“My little slut…” You whisper before teasing my mouth with your own while your fingers slide up and down my wet slit. I moan and arch, still gripping my hem. Your beard tickles my chin and I sigh deeply as your lips glide over my jaw.

My ass is practically off the seat as my body invites you in, to explore, to invade, but your fingers still torment, barely skimming my slick folds. “Please, Sir… More?” I whimper.

“What do you want, little girl?” Your voice in my ear sends tremors through me, before you gently nibble down my neck, the fingers of your right hand tugging down the strap of my sundress.

“Oh, please, Daddy. I don’t know…”
“That’s right, sweet girl. But, I do.”

Your teeth sink into my shoulder just as you slide two fingers inside me. “No orgasms without permission,” you growl as my muscles clench around you. How do you know? How is it you understand my body better than I do?

As you grip my pussy, with two fingers inside and your palm grinding against my clit, your mouth seems to be everywhere but where I want it. On mine. I let go of my skirt and lift my hands to your cheeks, but you pull back and give me that look. The one that makes me say, “Yes, Sir,” even when you’ve given no command.

“Tilt your seat back, then sit on those impatient fingers of yours, baby girl.”

As I obey, you pull down the front of my dress, the ruched top giving you plenty of access. I’m already moaning when your lips find my nipple, digging my fingernails into the backs of my thighs to keep my hands from wandering again.

Just when I’m sure I can’t take anymore, your lips make their way back to mine and you grip the back of my neck tightly, kissing me hard and thrusting your tongue against mine.

I feel myself teetering on the edge of orgasm when your fingers wriggle inside me and your thumb presses against my clit before circling, slowly. “Oh, God…,” I groan into your mouth and you pull back watching me.

I stare into your eyes, trying to decide if I should beg or let go, and suffer the repercussions. You smirk at me and pull your hand away. I whine and lift my ass in the air again, trying to will your return.

You kiss me again, then lean back, licking my juices off your fingers. Settling back into your seat, you unzip your jeans and pull out your delicious cock. “You cum, when I cum,” you whisper, stroking yourself lightly.

I climb onto my knees, licking my lips, not caring if I climax at all, anymore. I only want to taste you. Forever, your cum slut.

I start to bend toward your lap, but you stop me, wrapping your fingers around my throat and pulling me to your lips one more time.

After a kiss that takes my breath away, you hold me there looking behind me. “You’re being watched, pretty girl.”

As you let go, I look behind me and see a couple of young men staring at us from the tree line. They are holding beer cans, and appear to be accustomed to it, but look too young to be drinking. Clearly, this is a teenage party spot, and I look back to you for instruction.

My cheeks are blazing, as I already know what you are going to say, “How about a performance, little girl?”

“Yes, Daddy,” I whisper. I’m not sure what you have in mind, but the humiliation I feel only serves to increase my arousal. I want you to show me off, even if it is in the most embarrassing way a girl could ever imagine.

“Good girl,” you breathe, and my body convulses with those words.

You step out of the car, walking around it slowly before opening my door and pulling me out with you. The clearing is grassy, which is a relief to my feet, and very quickly to my knees, as you push me down in front of you.

You don’t acknowledge the boys at all, who are now wide eyed with mouths agape. I look up at you, while sitting on my feet, and grin, my cheeks still burning. My breasts are still exposed, as is your cock, and I’m sure neither of those young men have seen much of either.

“May I suck your cock, please, Sir?”

I smile at your grin and nod, but want you to speak. I want them to hear your Dominance.

“May I use my hands, Sir?”

“On yourself, sweet girl. While I fuck your pretty mouth.”

I lift my skirt, so they can see me slide my fingers over my bare pussy and one of them drops his beer. I slide my middle finger deep inside and moan before opening my mouth and leaning forward to press my tongue against you.

I look up at you again, sucking and swirling your head before sliding onto you and pulling back slowly as a hiss escapes your lips. I open my thighs further and moan as I deliberately release your cock from my lips and glide my tongue down your length to the side of your sac.

“Yes, baby, lick my balls,” you groan, lifting your cock up your belly and stroking it while I lathe your underside and suck each side into my mouth, lightly swirling my tongue around them.

“Fuck,” I hear one of the boys mutter as he rubs himself over his shorts. When I glance over at them, they both look aroused, but there is something different about the boy in jeans.

Gazing back up at you, I rub myself lightly and open my mouth wide as you grab the sides of my head and push yourself into my mouth. Slowly at first, but I see that you are about to do exactly what you said, and pull my hands up to your thighs.

“Pinch those titties, little girl, like I would.” As you slowly push yourself deep into my throat, I cup my heavy breasts and squeeze my nipples tightly, groaning against your shaft.

After a few long strokes, you slam into my tonsils and hold me there. I swallow, trying not to gag or gasp, and you grunt at the sensation, before pulling back and fully fucking my mouth.

When you stop, I look up at you, expectantly, all but forgetting our audience. I want your cum, and feel disappointment fall over my face until you growl, “Up on the hood, I need to fuck you.”

Oh, yes! I’ve been aching to be filled by you all day. When I don’t stand fast enough for you, you grab my arm and yank me up, against you, and I rise to my tippy toes, hoping you’ll kiss me. Show those young men that tasting yourself on your girls lips is wonderful.

You do, and lift my dress to squeeze my bare ass cheeks. Your kiss is intoxicating. I wrap my arms around your neck and you lift my bottom, so I wrap my legs around you too. You slide your beard across my neck and whisper in my ear, “Being wrapped in you is the best part of this performance, baby doll… So far.”

I smile against your cheek, and sigh with pure bliss. When you set me on the hood, you unwrap yourself and step back. I feel so exposed, my face heats up again and I start to close my legs.

“Uh-uhhh, sweet girl. Open up,” you rumble, and when I do, you slap my pussy three times. I lean back thrusting myself forward, and you growl, low and deep, “You wanna show these boys what a pain slut you are, my bitch?”

I nod at you, panting and within moments, you have my arms folded behind me, pull my dress up over my head holding them in place, and are pushing me back to lie on them. You pull my hips toward you and lift my feet to the edge of the car, so that my pussy is spread, wide open, for anyone watching.

I look back at the boys, and the one in jeans has his dick in his hand, but is just holding it, staring at us intently. The other one is vigorously working his own erection, inside his shorts, and is sweating profusely.

The first couple swats land lightly and quickly on my lips, and I feel my arousal splatter on my thighs. “You are so wet, dirty girl. Just from sucking my cock!” You rub my clit for a moment and I start to writhe. “Such a little slut, you want more?”

“Yes, Daddy, please?!”

The boy with his hand inside his pants has pulled himself free, and is grunting hard. “Hit her again,” he says softly, and you smile broadly, still not acknowledging them fully, but you pull back and smack my clit hard, making me cry out, then moan loudly as you rub me, wildly. I could cum, and think I might, but will myself to hold it in.

“More?” I know you’re asking them, so I look at them and nod my head.

The kid in the jeans is still just staring, but the other shouts, “Yeah, fuck yeah. Then fuck her hard.”

You spank my pussy until my thighs threaten to close then you thrust your cock inside me. I almost can’t pay attention to the boys, anymore. My body is losing the battle to prevent climax. I look at the boy in the jeans, hoping to distract myself, and he sees me staring.

Are you ok? He mouths, and I gasp, “Yes! Please let me cum, Daddy, please?!?!”

You don’t answer, so I look back at you, you are shaking your head no, but whisper, “Cum, baby girl. Make it look good.”

My body convulses with pleasure that I’m sure these young men could not understand. I cry out and let my voice do what it will as wave after wave hits me and shoots through me. When they turn to after shocks, I look up at you and try to fill my face with apologetic concern. You’ve stopped and are watching me.

“I’m so sorry, Sir. I couldn’t stop it!”

“You are a bad little girl,” you smile, pulling out of me, “turn over.”

I do the best I can, with my arms bound behind me, you have to help me. You pull my legs down so that my toes touch the grass, and slide your fingers across my ass.

With my cheek pressed against the hood, I look back and see the concern in the one boy’s eyes, so I say, in my sweetest voice, “Spank me, Daddy. I deserve it, I want it.”

You chuckle, and I’m sure they hear it, and can tell it is an act now. As I stare at the boys, you begin, striking me hard enough to make me flinch, but not cry out. The boy in the shorts shoots his load, and I get a strange sense of satisfaction from that.

The boy in the jeans just glares at me, hard cock in hand.

Your fingers dip between my thighs, and the pleasure closes my eyes. I want your cock inside me, and I want that boy to see that. So I beg.

As you continue punishing my ass and teasing my dripping cunt, I beg and plead for your cock and your cum. When you finally slide into me, I think I might explode, but hold it together until your thumb pushes into my ass. I come apart, my juices dripping down my thighs, and the car, and I feel your hand come down on my ass again.

I think I hear one of the boys speak. I open my eyes to see the boy who blew his wad stroking himself again. Hard again so quickly, oh, sweet youth.

The boy in the jeans is stroking himself, now. And I watch him intently while you drive deep and hard into me. You lean down over me and whisper, “You like being watched, don’t you, little one?”

Before I can answer, you pull me up by my hair, sliding out of me and spinning us, so I’m facing the boys. Completely exposed, you wrap your hand around my throat and lift me so your cock presses between my cheeks. I feel you bend your knees while gripping my hip and pushing into my ass. Filling me painfully, but blissfully.

“Cum again, for them, sweet girl.”

I’m panting with some crazy blend of discomfort and pleasure. You pull my dress off my arms, lift my left hand around the back of your neck and then glide my right hand between my thighs.

My mind is spinning, my eyes are locked with the boy in the jeans, but I’m frozen.

Until he mouths, Touch yourself.

You whisper in my ear, “Do it,” and I swim in the exotic feelings coursing through me.

I stroke myself in rhythm with my young voyeur, and he quickly catches on. Speeding up and slowing down to see what he can do. I wonder if he will become addicted to the power of this moment, and perhaps that is how a dominant is born.

When your fingers find my nipples, my eyes close, and the young man says calmly, “Open your eyes. Look at me.” Again, I start to turn to you, unsure about accepting orders from another man, but you hold my head firmly and whisper, “Do it,” again.

You begin to move inside me, and the odd sensation makes me bleary eyed, but I blink rapidly to focus on this boy whom I suddenly, and desperately want to cum for. Because you will it.

“Push a finger inside.” I do.

“Two fingers.” I do.

He tells me how to touch myself, to fuck my pussy, to lick my fingers, to pinch my nipples… And as his confidence grows, he steps closer and closer, but never over reaches.

When he’s five feet from us, I feel you tensing and he sees it, taking a step back. He looks at you and whispers, “How do I make her cum?”

I feel you smile against my ear, before you push my fingers away and say softly, but loud enough for him to hear, “If you are in command, and she feels it… If you make her feel safe and protected… If you give her your heart and she gives you her body… And she’s in the right frame of mind, you just tell her to.”

You kiss my neck and press firmly against my clit before growling against my ear, “Cum for Daddy, baby doll!”

It takes no more than that, I’m on fire from watching him and listening to you, and that fire erupts. An orgasm rips through me as you grip my pussy while thrusting yourself in and out of my ass. At the height of my orgasm, you whisper in my ear to beg for his cum.

When I don’t immediately respond, you tighten your grip on my throat, and I open my eyes to see the young man standing only feet in front of us. He’s panting and watching me, but not your fingers continuing to work my pussy or my heaving chest. He’s starting at my face.

“Beg for it, precious,” he grunts as he squeezes the head of his dick, and I suck in a deep breath. He’s a natural.

“Please, Sir. Give me your cum.”

With those words, you pull out of me, whispering, “Good girl,” and push me to my knees.

With both of you in front of me, I close my eyes and stick out my tongue, waiting for the shower. I rub my clit, already on edge just from the thought of all that fluffy, white seed. You know I’m a cum slut, and I bet you planned this, though I’m not sure how.

As the first ropes hit my chest, another climax rocks through me. I feel your cum hit my tongue and then the head of your cock. I open my eyes and look up at you, sucking and licking every drop of your essence. When I pull back, the young Dom is looking down at me with a smile on his lips.

He reaches out and strokes my hair. “Good girl.”

I smile sweetly at him before remembering the other boy and looking around for him. I see him, passed out against a tree, dick still in hand. I giggle and you both chuckle at me.

After attempting to clean me up with napkins and tissues from the car, you help me slip my dress back on, but don’t give me back my panties. I smirk at you and consider asking for them, but decide to let you play your game, hoping it means more fun when we get home. And it’s so hot and sticky, I look forward to the cool, conditioned air in the car blowing up my flirty skirt.

The young Sir starts to walk away, but turns back towards me. “Do all girls like this stuff?”

“More than you’d think. I think you’ll know, you’re a natural Dominant, Sir,” my voice drops, as I suddenly feel embarrassed.

You sit me in the car and buckle my belt for me. “You are amazing, sweet girl. Close your eyes and rest for a minute…” Kissing me and slipping your fingers beneath my dress, you grip me firmly. “This is mine, and mine alone. But what you did for that kid tonight will change the next few years, if not the rest of his life.”

I smile and blush, thinking all I did was everything you said, …and then I understand.

After talking with him for a moment and checking on his friend, who’s starting to wake, you climb in beside me.

As we pull away to continue the drive, you reach for my knee again.

“Don’t fall asleep, little girl. It’s my turn to tell a story…”

Moonlighting, Part Five

To catch up on the whole series, click here. This is the final installment. Let me know what you think!

“Chelsea, what I want is to take care of you. I want to give you the life you deserve. I want to help you accomplish everything you have ever wanted to and I want you to help anchor me, make me a better man, and turn my world upside down, over and over again. I want to love you the way you have always deserved to be loved…

“I’d like you to move in with me. If you need some time, or need me to court you, …I’ll give you anything, sweet girl. But my goal will be to own you and have you near me always.” Pulling me into him, he stares into my eyes and whispers against my lips, “Tell me, little girl, how to make you mine.”

My heart feels as though it might stop. I can’t answer because I simply cannot believe this is happening. A subconscious fantasy turned reality… in mere hours?!

While my mind is swirling, I suddenly remember, “I told Rachel I would check back on her!” I bolt upright and glance at the clock. It is nearly 11. I can’t stand going back on my word, and I don’t want her to sleep on the couch. I start to get up, then wonder if I need permission. I look back and forth between him, the clock and the door, unable to form words.

Master begins to chuckle as he sits up as well. Taking me by the shoulders, before wrapping his arms around me, he kisses my hair and says softly, “Stop spinning, little one. Please go get dressed, go check on Rachel and come back.”

Such a simple command, but, with such a huge affect. My mind clears, my pulse slows, and I feel completely quieted, like he just wrapped me in a soothing, warm blanket.

Had I always needed to be given orders? Was that part of my problem with anxiety over the years? Or did he create that need within me?

As he pulls away, I stroke his cheek with my fingers and search his eyes for the answers. What I find is peace. It doesn’t matter, I simply need to surrender.

After a moment, I move to stand and he follows me before grabbing my wrist and pulling me back into his arms. I sigh against his lips as he kisses me, and wonder if he wants to see if I’ll pull away. I wonder if he’s testing me.

I wrap my arms around him, deepening the kiss, and allowing my eyes to close. When he releases me, softly and sweetly, he whispers, “Don’t be long, little one. If you are gone more than 30 min., I will have to come collect you.”

He gives me the most delicious grin and I feel my cheeks heat, he was testing me. Exerting his dominance over me in a new way, to see how I’ll react. That smile tells me I passed the test.

He spins me around and swats my naked and wickedly bruised bottom towards the door. I wince but giggle and run to the kitchen to collect my clothes. As I dress, I think about everything that has happened tonight and wonder if I can discuss it with Rachel. I could use a confidant, someone to help me sort through things. Perhaps I shouldn’t discuss Master, though… without permission.

As I slip into my jacket and check my reflection in the dark glass of the upper cabinets in the kitchen, I realize, she is going to ask. It’s late, my cheeks are far more flushed than usual, and, well, Rachel just has an intuition about these things. The conversations we’ve had regarding Master and my questions about submission had always come from her perceptions of my desires.

Running my fingers across my lips and staring into my own face, I simply couldn’t think what I would tell her if she asked what happened.

Suddenly, Master’s arms circle me from behind and his lips find my ear. “Are you stalling for a reason, little girl?”

I look down at his hands and smile at the return of that soothing relief. That feeling of surrendering the decisions to him.

“What should I say, Master, when Rachels asks about my night?”
“You want to discuss it with her? You two have become close, haven’t you?”
“Yes, Sir. I… I want to sort through my feelings with you, but…”
“Go on, sweet Chelsea,” he turns me in his embrace so that we are facing each other.
“I have shared a lot, with Rachel, already, Sir.”
“I have, too,” he whispers, smoothing my hair from my face and smiling.

I smirk at him, realizing this internal struggle is just silly. Surrender. “May I discuss it with her, Master?”

The tender expression that I suddenly recognize washes over his face. Oh, my… It is love. He kisses me softly and whispers, “Yes. Discuss whatever you like with Rachel. Whatever you need to do to answer my question, little one.”

As I make my way into Rachel’s apartment, I feel the goofy grin on my lips, but can do nothing to rid myself of it. She’s lying on the sofa with her eyes closed, so I make my way inside as quietly as possible.

“Ya don’t have to sneak around, I’m not asleep,” she says, actually sounding better than earlier. “Some fantastic lady made me soup that has some kind of magical, healing power to it.” She laughed, before falling into a coughing fit.

“Obviously, it didn’t work THAT well,” I giggle and rush to bring her a glass of water.

She looks at me as I hand it to her, and her lips curl in a devious smirk, “He finally told you!!”

“Told me what?” I try to be coy, but I’m a terrible liar.

She rolls her eyes at me and drags me to sit next to her. “Come on, Roni, spill.”

I freeze, hearing her call me that name. She knows me as Veronica. Marie knew me as Veronica.

Martin knows me as Veronica.

“Hey! You were just smiling and now you look like…” As tears fill my eyes, she can’t finish.

I stare at my hands in my lap and think about pretending to be Veronica all this time. Wondering how little of Chelsea is in her. Martin might think he loves me, but has he really gotten to know me? Even if Veronica is who I’d love to be… It is still just pretending.

“What’s going on? Why are you crying?” Rachel pushes my hair back so she can see my face, before grabbing the tissues off the table.

“Yes. He told me. Martin has asked me to be his. Me alone. But you just reminded me… I’m not sure he even really knows me.” I grab one of the tissues and wipe my eyes. When I turn toward her, the confusion in her face makes me continue.

“My name is really Chelsea. I was married when I started… coming here. Martin thought the fake name would make it easier for me. But I just realized… Rachel, I’ve been pretending to be someone else. How could he know that he wants me when he doesn’t really know me? He turned his life upside down for someone who doesn’t exist!”

I drop my face to my hands, sobbing, “Fuck.”

Rachel remains quiet for a few moments before laughing softly. I look up at her, startled, and she laughs harder.

“Oh, geez, Chelsea. Just think about that for a second, would you?!” She grabs my shoulders, turning me toward her, “For the last few months, because of this ‘pretending’, you’ve been happier than you were for years before. You told me so, two weeks ago. You told me that you wished you could have more than this. You told Marie you wished you could find a guy just like Martin.”

Sighing, exaggeratedly, she grabs a tissue, and wipes my cheeks. “What exactly did you pretend to be that you aren’t? What exactly are the differences between Veronica and Chelsea?!”

Trying to think it through only makes me more upset, because I can’t see the differences. So instead, I clear away Rachel’s dishes and used tissues from the table. Taking everything into the kitchen quietly and filling the kettle to make her more tea, I set out to wash the dishes, but sense her behind me.

“I’m just going to make you more tea and get you into bed. You need to rest, so you can get better, Rachel. You don’t need to help me sort out my love life.”

“Don’t you see, girl? Look at what you are doing right now! Serving me, to make yourself feel better! You ARE Veronica, Chelsea. You went searching for this act. You sought out a place where you could really be yourself. Where you could submit in the only way you felt comfortable with at the time. Now, you want more, but can’t get past the pretending?

“Being upset about Martin falling for the fake you is ridiculous! There is no fake you. It’s just you. The growing and changing Chelsea.”

I look back at her, those words sinking in like none that I ever could’ve offered myself. As I finish the dishes and the kettle whistles, I recognize how “serving” has always been the thing I turned to. When my marriage was failing and I simply could not do enough at home, I sought out this extra place where I could give of myself, because I needed it.

I smile at her and walk over to take the kettle from the stove. “I guess you might be right, Rach. It was never about acting, it was about finding myself.”

Staring at the door, I take the kettle off the heat. Rachel laughs at me again.

“Go!!!  I am perfectly capable of getting myself to bed, Ron– Chelsea. Go.”

Stepping out of her apartment, I contemplate telling Martin exactly what happened. I think about what I might want out of this relationship. I wonder at how I can go from submitting once a week to every day, hour, and minute.

When I open the door into the foyer, and remove my jacket, I can’t imagine even wanting to go home, at this point. And when I turn to see him, wearing jeans and his undershirt, his natural body language filled with such… command, I am compelled to kneel at his bare feet. To submit to him.

After a moment, I steal a glance up at his face. His tender smile from earlier makes me blush. He reaches down and strokes my face before offering his hand. I take it, and he pulls me up and against him.

Kissing me hard and letting his hands explore my body, he whispers, “I want to fuck you again, little girl, so bad. But I need to know what you are thinking and feeling.”

I smile at the difference in the man he is with me. He was like this, after my punishments, even if he rarely spoke, but I never truly recognized that this was MY Dom. That the tender firmness was how he made me at ease and how he made me feel good. He is so different from Rachel’s and Marie’s Dom. Different, but the same in so many odd and exhilarating ways.

When he starts to drop his hands, I whine softly, “Please, Sir. Your touch is comforting. I have longed for it, without realizing it, for so long. Please, don’t let go.”

“If you allow me, I’ll never let go, little one.”

I giggle and smirk up at him, cocking my head to one side. Just then, I knew exactly what to say. Exactly how to answer.

“Ask me again, Sir? Please?”

“To be mine? How to make you mine?”

“Tell me to. That is all you need to do, Master. Tell me to be yours, and I will be yours. For as long as you’ll keep me.”

His face split into a smile that could have lit the room. “You want to submit to me, then. That is what you truly want.”

“I want to be yours. I want to serve you. I want to please you. I want to bring you pleasure. I want to give you my pleasure. And I want to, and will, turn your world upside down repeatedly. Because I know, you will always right it, quickly and with command. …I want your command.”

I become breathless, at my own words. The desires of my heart and spirit, so tightly intertwined with the desires of my body. “I really want your command,” I repeat, leaning into him, to feel his heat and his own desire.

He groans and bends his lips to mine but does not kiss me. “There is a lot more to discuss. Arrangements to be made. ideals to understood. Limits to go over… Lives to blend…”

“Tomorrow, Sir… Please?  For tonight, just take me… Accept my submission? Please, Master?”

He growls, pulling me hard against him, his eyes searing into me, and his lust scorching my entire body, drawing my own to the surface. “I do love the way you beg, sweet Chelsea.”

Lifting me as though I were nothing, he carries me into the bedroom. As we undress each other, it feels like the first time, all over again. I contemplate how long that feeling could last. But then, as he covers me with his body and enters my sore, swollen and used flesh, I feel a sense of him coming home.

He kisses me, and it feels like completion.

He strokes my body, and it feels like I’ve never been touched in my life.

He says my name, and it sounds like he is naming me, for the first time.

He moves, on top of me, and it feels like magnetism, as though we are always meant to be touching.

And as we slowly climb to the top of our climaxes, I cannot imagination ever experiencing bliss like that again.

Until he wakes me, at sunrise… to take me, again… to heaven.

Dancer

I finished my latest installment of the Dancer series on Hipster Intelligence Agency.

It is a story about Natalie, an eighteen year old, quite cocky and self confident girl, seeking Dominance without quite realizing it. She throws herself in the path of a handsome, but rumored playboy who quickly helps her see things in herself that she had never realized. And makes her want things she has never wanted.

It’s a pretty hot series, which I enjoyed writing a lot. I hope, if you haven’t already, that you’ll check it out.

Dancer
Dancer, Part 2
Dancer, Part 3
Dancer, Part 4

Let me know what you think!!

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Moonlighting, Part four

To catch up on the whole series, click here.

As his lips drop to meet mine, I raise my hands to his back, sliding them down and then back up to wind in his soft, chestnut hair.  He moans into my mouth and I feel his erection pressing against my thighs.

I open my legs and wrap them around him, inviting him to enter, wanting him to fill me.  When the tip glides between my lips, I rock my hips pushing him in slightly.  He remains there as his mouth glides over my throat and across my collarbone to my right shoulder.
His teeth skim the sensitive spot, causing my hips to grind against him, pushing him into me further, but not enough.  He swirls his tongue on that spot and my hips swivel while I press his backside with my heels.  “Please, sir…” I beg, breathlessly.

He lifts up onto his knees, pulling out completely, and I whine, arching my back, my body begging for more.

His lips travel down to my breast wear his tongue flicks at my nipple before he takes it between his teeth, while squeezing the other with his fingers.  A deep moan rises from my chest, and I arch further against his mouth.  He torments both nipples, going back and forth between them until I am writhing and begging beneath him.  He grazes down my belly and pushes my knees apart with his hands, opening me to his hungry mouth.

He blows on my clit, and I feel it pulse as his tongue lowers to tease me.  He circles my clit several times, while my hips move of their own accord.  I twist my fingers in his hair, trying to push his face into me, to get more friction, more pressure, but he is strong and resists my insistence.

I whimper and twist, my pussy throbbing and dripping, ready and waiting for anything.  My muscles clench and vibrate, and I wonder for a moment if I might climax just from this.  The thought is pushed immediately out of my mind when his mouth drops to suck and lick my clit, while two fingers find their way inside of me, running back and forth over my G-spot.  His tongue laps at me, and it feels so amazing. My thighs threaten to close, but he holds them open with a shoulder and his other hand.

The pleasure is so intense, I remind myself to breath, as I dig my fingers in his hair.  My hips lift and grind against his face, and he sucks on my clit again, while pounding his fingers inside my cunt.  My moans become quick and low, as I feel the orgasm building, filling me.  He lifts his face to look at me and uses his thumb to push and rub, fast and hard on my clit.  The change is sensation sends me flying and I scream as I bear down and gush onto his bed.

He slides back on top of me, and glides his raging, hard cock into me, quickly filling me before my orgasm has completed.  The fullness pushes me right back to the brink and as he swivels his hips against me, the head of his dick presses against my cervix and I come apart again, this orgasm rocking my entire body until I’m shaking beneath him as he pounds into me.

“Good Girl…” He breathes against my neck and I squeeze my legs around him, slowing him, and wrap my arms around his neck.

“Oh, Martin…” I whimper, and immediately tense, scared that I may have offended him.  He senses my reaction and rises so his lips are against mine while he continues to thrust slowly.

“Say it again…”

“Martin.”

“Do you like using my name?”

“Like this, yes….”

“What else would you like to call me?” He asks as he slides a hand beneath my scorched bottom and squeezes.

I suck in a quick breath, the pain quickly sending jolts of pleasure into my clit. “Oh God…” I exhale.

“I like that, but I don’t think you’re calling me God…”

“No… Sir…” His fingers dip between my cheeks and his ring finger presses against my asshole. “Oh, Yes… Sir!”

“Mmmmm, I like Sir.  What else?”

My mind is completely blank, my body responding in ways i hadn’t quite imagined. “Master…”

It escaped my throat almost silently as he hovers above my lips. I will myself to say more, but his smooth rocking and attention to my trigger points has left me unable to compose a thought.

“Yes, my precious slut, I’m your Master.” And with that, he rockets me back up into oblivion.

I lose control of my limbs, and he takes the opportunity to flip me, quickly and easily onto my knees. Caressing my bruised and welted backside, he slides into me before dragging my arms behind my back and holding both wrists in one hand.

He presses again, against my puckered, second opening, but this time, with his thumb.

“The sight of your ass like this is almost enough to drive me insane, little one. I’m going to do my best to take you there with me.”

Pushing his digit inside, and digging his fingers into my sore flesh, he begins to hammer into me with such force that it takes my breath.

I’ve never been fucked so hard in my life, and the exquisite pleasure-pain combination is quite enough to lift me beyond euphoria.

Shattering me into a billion pieces, I scream his name over, and over.
“I love the way you say my name… I’ve never loved hearing my name so much…” He bends and growls close to my ear, “No bitch has ever been allowed to use my name like this. But I fucking love it.”

As He rises, his speed increases, and I lose myself in another set up mind altering waves. They don’t stop, they simply seem to rise and crest over and over. His aggression feeding me something I had no clue I was hungry for.

I force my mind to stay in play, to experience his complete satisfaction, and when he pulls himself free of me and flips me onto my back, all I can do is whimper.

He hovers over me, slowly stroking himself, “I never want this to end… You feel like heaven.”

I’m gasping, I want him back inside of me, but instead, I rise up off of my burning backside, to my knees as he sits back on his heels. I mimic his stance and lift my fingers to his cheeks, and whisper “Master, how may I please you?”

His eyes roll back and he pulls his hands to my face and drags me into a melting kiss for breathing into me, “Such a good girl.”

Kissing me again, he guides my fingers around his thick staff, while teasing my engorged button with his own. “I want you to be mine, don’t tell me you will right now, but promise this won’t just be tonight.”

“It won’t,” I sigh, “It won’t.”

My hand strokes him softly as I hold him, tightly, at the base with the other. I recognize that my juices have made him sticky so I whisper my desire to use my mouth.

He gracefully steps off the bed and pulls me to my back, again, dragging my hair over the edge before sweetly stroking my face. I licked my lips, anxious and hungry, but he stepped back and looked at me. “Don’t make me cum, little one, I want to fuck that beautiful pussy again.”

I lifted my hands to guide him into my mouth, but he pulled them to my sides and held them there. I used my tongue, and sucked as he pressed his rod slowly into my throat. He maneuvered himself deep, but slipped back quickly, so I didn’t gag, at first. After shifting my neck to get a better angle, his hands moved down my body, sliding two fingers inside me, and rotating his thumb softly on my clit before pressing down.

Gripping my pussy for leverage, he began fucking my mouth and throat. My entire body went rigid, trying to absorb, relish and encite all at the same time. Suddenly his fingers were free and he began slapping my mound, grunting, and fucking my inexperienced throat. I gasped and gagged and tears filled my eyes. His sack slapping me with each repeated thrust. But before I raised my hands to push him back, he pulled away and climbed on top of me.

Yanking my hips down to meet his, he was inside of me again so quickly that I cried out. This experience would never be matched. This night was almost too much for me to comprehend. As he hovered over me, his pace halted by my shriek, he used his thumb to wipe the tears and dislodged mascara from under my eyes. “Are you Ok, sweet girl? Do you need to stop?”

I swiveled my hips and lifted my hands to his ass, “Please, Sir, don’t ever stop!!” That sweet spot, deep inside, that only he has ever hit, desperately wanted more.

He smiled, dropping his lips to mine but depriving me of his kiss. “You are fucking amazing,” he growled.

As he began to slide in and out, my clenching muscles gripped him so tightly that he groaned. I stared into his eyes, panting. I gripped his ass, moaning. I felt like the world could end in this moment, and neither of us would know it because the joy of pleasure we are experiencing is ethereal.

Our intoxicating fucking has turned into the perfect kind of lovemaking, unaware of where he ends and I begin, the electricity flows between us and through us as one unit. We fly out over the cliff, together, the clouds beating us with their vapor, swell after swell. It is earth shattering. And I apparently lose consciousness.

My mind soaks in the sublime elation of the most incredible climax of my life, as I float back down to earth on a cloud that seems to be massaging me, pleasuring me, kissing me and whispering to me.

When I realize it is Martin’s… Master’s voice I hear, I will my eyes to open. His hand is smoothing coconut oil over by backside, while his chest remains pressed against me tightly. “There you are, little one,” he breathes, pulling me further into his embrace, as though he might absorb me.

I sigh against his neck, reeling from everything that has happened. “Please, can I stay a while, Sir?”

“Of course!  You are not permitted to leave right now! …I’d love it if you’d stay the night… or forever.” His voice dropped to a whisper. From commanding to utter vulnerability, I wonder how odd that must feel to him.

As I lift my hand to his scruffy jaw, the concern must be etched in my eyes.

“What is it, sweet Chelsea? What’s wrong?”

“Martin, can you tell me what YOU want, now? Help me understand what this would mean for me? For us?” My voice is shaky and I feel the weight of all the possibilities in the pit of my stomach.

His expression changes. I instantly regret using his name, and recoil slightly in preparation for his response, but he doesn’t speak. He simply looks at me, until there is no expression. His arms tighten again, drawing me back into him.

He remains silent for so long that I pull back to see if he’s fallen asleep. When I see his eyes, and they capture mine, I feel His thoughts. My heart syncs with his. I begin to understand why he would turn his life upside down for little ol’ me, even before he speaks.

But when he does, MY world turns upside down… in a way that could never be imagined.

…to be continued

Moonlighting, Part three

To catch up on the whole series, click here.

He laughs and sits on the bed. When I’ve put away all the clutter, and wiped down all the surfaces with a face cloth, I look around the room and leave the hand towel next to His sink rumpled.

“I’m ready for inspection, Sir,” I call into the bedroom. When He walks toward me, this is the Master I know. His confident swagger returned, His demanding attention scoping around the room, searching out the tiny missed detail.

Of course he realizes it was intentional, and perhaps he understands that they all were. When He sees it, He grasps me around the back of the neck and walks me toward the infraction.

“Is this how I like my towels, sweet Chelsea?” His clipped tone hiding the sparkle that I hope gleams in His eye.

“Oh, no Sir. I’m so sorry,” I quiver as I reach to correct it.

“Go and kneel on the bed, knees apart, and wait for your punishment.”

As I obey, I’m again struck with thoughts of Marie. Lying or even kneeling on the bed she normally shares with Master seems like a betrayal, and my pace forward stops.

I glance back at Him, feeling unsure again. Perhaps this will not turn into anything, and we’ll all end up burying each other.

As I stand in the doorway, hesitating, He walks up behind me and places His hands on my shoulders. He pulls my back against Him and whispers, “She’s gone, sweet girl. And she won’t be returning.”

My body spins of its own volition. “What?! No, she’s on vacation, she told me herself!” I quickly check my attitude, “I’m sorry, Sir, I didn’t mean to shout. I-“

“It’s ok, little one. I asked her not to tell you, because I didn’t want you to assume that my desire to advance our relationship was due to some need to replace her.”

I stare up into His eyes, feeling exactly that.

“The truth is, I have ended my arrangement with both she and Rachel. But, I am allowing Rachel to stay in the apartment for a while.”

I turn and reach for his robe hanging from a hook beside the door, but my knees give out, and I’m suddenly in a heap on the floor.

Sir grabs the robe and drops to His knees to wrap me in it, then holds my face between His hands. “I’m definitely befuddled here, sweet girl. I never expected your loyalty to run so deep. I never expected to… I never thought I’d be willing to turn my life upside down… “

“Please say something… at least look at me?”

I shift my gaze from the floor to His face. Looking at Him still feels odd.  But His expression is so warming.  I feel the questions blooming in my mind.  I need answers.  “May I… Sir…”

“Please, Chelsea, ask me anything,” He breathes, relief washing over His features as he sits with His legs on either side of me, and lowers His hands to cover mine, rubbing them to warm them.  “You’re freezing, little one…” He whispers.

“Why?”

“Why… what?”

“Why did you turn your life upside down?”

He exhales, struggling with the answer. “Do you remember the week your divorce was final?  You texted me that afternoon. You said you were free, and you sounded so pleased. But then the next night, you left me that voicemail.”

He was stroking my hands, and I suddenly wished I was wrapped in his arms in bed instead of huddled in front of him on the cold, marble floor.  I shiver shot through me as I recalled that humiliating message. I had been so sad, lonely and frustrated. I sought out his companionship, knowing it wasn’t truly available.

“I was so concerned about you that I drove to your home. I wanted to hold you and comfort you, make you feel wanted and cared for.  Your sadness drove down deep into my heart, and I honestly couldn’t stop thinking about that. Every week I couldn’t wait for Wednesday, and it became very noticeable to Marie.  She asked me 4 weeks ago if I realized what was happening.

“I told her I was considering asking you to live here with us, and she told me it would never work.  She made me see that you were not like her and Rachel. You were submissive, but if you were truly going to be safe in the lifestyle, you would need someone who could devote themselves completely to being your Dominant.  She does not believe I have it in me to do that.  I’ve surrounded myself for years with many submissives who could all offer me something different.  I could never settle for just one.

“But every week after that, you showed me something about yourself that I had never found before.  And then, a few weeks ago, I heard you chatting with Marie. She had already told me she was leaving, and I was worried what she was going to say to you, so I eavesdropped.  You had just had a pretty brutal strapping, but you babbled away as if you hadn’t been punished at all.  During your conversation, Rachel found me listening and smiling, and she told me she thought I was falling for you.

“And then you said something that knocked the wind out of me.  You told Marie that you wished you could find a single guy, just like me.  Rachel heard it too, and when she saw my face…”

I looked up at Him, waiting for Him to finish.  But His eyes told me everything.

“Sir, May I ask how you even know that…  I mean, what if I… What if we cannot be what each other needs?  I cannot bear the thought of your whole world-“

“Stop. After just ending a marriage, I can’t believe you would even… No, I can believe it, but if you accept… If you become mine, this is your first rule: You are not permitted to believe you are not worth my whole world.”  His fingers trace down my cheek and neck, to stroke my hair.  “You are the most amazing creature I have ever had the pleasure to gaze upon.”

His words stopped my heart. My chest feels odd, and full again, as though the years spent shriveling in an empty marriage never happened.  But I’m still not ready to offer Him my everything… My complete submission?  I’m not even sure what that would mean for my life, career, etc.

“I’m just… Please, Sir.  Can we get up off the floor?”  I squeak, feeling too vulnerable.

“I have more questions, but could we put all of it aside for tonight?  I think… I’d like… You were… About to punish me, Sir?” I know my voice is barely audible, but I know feeling His Dominance will help me.

I need to feel, even just for a moment, what it will be like to be His, completely.

He doesn’t speak, and I can only guess He is struggling with what to do.  He’s never been in this situation before, always having had experienced subs.  Taking me on as a service sub had been a very difficult decision for Him.  This must seem like completely foreign territory.

I decide to help by removing the robe.  I stand to hang it back on the hook, and then lower myself to the floor, on my knees, in front of Him, linking my arms behind me and lowering my chin. A small show of submission. A request for power exchange.

He remains silent and still for a long time.  When he finally rises, I remember Rachel once telling me to never have expectations, when it came to punishments. So I tried to empty my mind, pushing my anxiety down into the pit of my stomach.  I wasn’t sure what he was going to do, but He wasn’t reaching down to collect me, so I concentrated on my breathing.

After several more minutes, I hear Him moving around.  He opens a drawer in the bedroom, then I hear Him pulling something out of the linen closet behind me.

“Since, my pet, you let on that you didn’t like being on the floor, part of your punishment will be to remain there for a while.” He kneels beside me and pulls my arms swiftly down my back.  He wraps them with something tightly, and I respond to His signal to clasp my hands together. “Good girl,” He whispers, and the delicious rush those two tiny words provide is exhilarating.  I cannot wait to hear them again and again.

He exhales deeply, and glides His fingers down my backside.  He arranges my body with expert hands, pushing my chest to the floor, pulling my knees apart as far as my muscles will allow, and then he grips my hips and pulls them up, raising my behind into the air.  When I move my feet, to use my toes on the floor for balance, He slaps them both and presses the tops of them against the cold tile beneath me.  “Use your large muscles for balance, pretty girl, not your tiny ones.”  His admonishment sends me further into submission.

“Now, sweet Chelsea, I am not punishing you this evening for the hand towel, but because you intentionally ignored a minor detail while completing your task, and this is clearly a pattern of manipulation.  True submission is to be constantly pleasing, not seeking out punishment.  If you are in need of attention, you need only tell me so.  Manipulation displeases me.  But communication makes me very happy.  Do you understand?”

“Y-yes, Sir,” I bleat against the tile.

“Because you appear to enjoy spanking and strapping, I will only use those for pleasure.  Your punishments will be much more intense.  Do you understand?”

“I… You… Are you going to hurt me badly, Sir?”

“Sweet girl, have I ever hurt you badly? Or even close?”

“No Sir.”

“You have a very high tolerance for pain, so I am going to have to experiment on you.  But if it is too much for you, you need only to tell me so. I will take things slowly, but I am fairly sure I have a better idea of what you can take than you do.”

“Ok, Sir.”

“I’m going to use a flogger to start. Do you know what that is?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Then, I will begin.”

He inhaled a long breath, I felt the air rush over my backside, and then the tiny strands of leather sting against my skin.  After several blows, the stinging sensation gets hotter.  He swings in a steady pace from side to side at first, and the rhythm becomes meditative.  But that doesn’t last long as he increases speed.  Suddenly, I feel the bites of just the tips of the strands, like a hundred bee stings, and I cry out.  He does this again several times, and I feel my will starting to return.  I’m not sure how much more I can take, and just as I think I might say stop, He shifts back into the repetitive side to side swings that he started with.

I don’t allow myself to float off this time, and instead listen to His breathing.  With each blow, He grunts very softly, and I find myself imagining His growing erection.  I picture Him watching my ass redden and undulate with the strikes, with a satisfied smile on His lips.  My body responds to my thoughts and my hips rotate slightly as I raise it higher in the air by arching my back as much as I can.  He groans, and increases His speed again, flicking at the end of each swing so that I feel the bee stings again.

This time, the pain pushes me down further.  I want to complete this punishment, I want to hear him say those lovely two words that will wrap against my heart and make me whole.

Sensing my determination, he changes pace and direction, again. And whimpers and moans escape my throat automatically. Tears sting my eyes, and something within me breaks.  A wrenching sob escapes my chest, and I shout, “I’m sorry.  I’m sorry…” He doesn’t stop. And I don’t ask him to.

As he continues, the heartache and sadness that has filled my heart for months, maybe year, pours from deep within me. It is an incredible release.  The sobs rip through me, and I think he is speaking to me, but his words don’t register, even though I think I answer.  I feel like I need it to be more.  Harder.  Suddenly, he throws down the flogger and uses something else. It cracks against my skin and whistles through the air.  With each burning strike, I feel something blooming within me.  I let go, and allow it to take control.  This punishment has turned into something I never expected I needed.  As I let go, the release of my tears and the movement of my body is all that I feel. I inhale deeply and as I release that breath, I feel detached.  I feel words leave my lips, but I don’t hear them.  I feel the air across my skin, and goose-bumps tingle across my flesh, but cannot place what causes them.  I exhale again, suddenly realizing that I think I hear his voice.

“Sir?”  I whisper, unable to open my eyes.

I hear his voice again, but cannot make out the words.  I feel his hands unbinding my arms and then his breath on my back.  His breathing is hard and fast, and I feel him move in front of me, scooping me up and onto His lap.

“Sir?”  I breathe again, still unsure of what is happening.

“Yes, my good girl,” he growls against my hair, stroking me and rubbing my arms.  “I believe that turned out to be a therapy beating.”

“Sir?” I force my eyes to open, and when they do, the flood of light surprises me.

“Shhh, give yourself a moment, my sweet.  You were deep in subspace.  Are you in any pain?” His words are soft and gentle, but his voice is husky and breathless.

“No, sir.  I’m not sure I feel anything….”  He squeezes me in His strong embrace, assuring me.  “I… I’m not sure what happened?”

“You broke.  Reset.  The pain opened you up to let go, emotionally.” He kisses my hair and is pulling the robe around my shivering body. “You said he ruined you…”

“S-sir?  I think I might like a few more of those….” I whisper, the room feeling small and overwhelming at the same time. “Letting go…”

“What did you mean, precious?  Who ruined you? Your ex-husband?”  His hands rubbed and kneaded my hips and thighs.

“He took the best part of me.  I loved him and gave him everything, but he didn’t really know how to love. At the end, I stopped taking care of him.  I stopped talking to him.  When we did talk, he was always hurtful and empty.  I think he is broken, and that is why he ruined me.”

I felt the tears sliding down my cheeks again, and Martin’s arms tighten around me.  He leans me back, wiping my tears with his thumbs.

“Oh, darling girl… Thank you for letting me rip it out of you. You are not ruined. He took from you, but not the best parts.  It will be my life long goal to build you back up, to make you complete again. But the best parts are all still here.”  His lips drop to mine, and his flames pour into me, reigniting my desire.

I moan as his tongue circles mine.  His fingers trail down my cheek and neck, and flatten so that his whole hand glides down the length of me.  He lifts me off his lap, setting my seared backside on the cold tile floor before rising to his knees and scooping me up in his arms.  He rises with such ease, his strength so obvious, I’m overcome with my feelings for him, and bury my face against his neck.

As he glides into the bedroom, he dims the lights and places me on the bed, pulling the robe off of my body as he does so.  He quickly removes his clothes and clicks a button on the night table, filling the room with soft music.  He places his palms on the bed next to my shoulder and glides onto the bed, lying directly on top of me. I squirm against his erection, wanting him inside of me, but only achieve a small amount of friction.

He drops to his elbows, placing his hands on either side of my face. “Tonight, I am going to make love to you the way only I can, sweet Chelsea, because that is what your shattered heart needs most.”

…to be continued.

Moonlighting, Part two

To catch up on the whole series, click here.

“Our arrangement was for you to act as a service submissive only.”

He sighs, when my eyes fall to the floor again. Scooting his stool close to mine, he takes my hand.  His touch feels like home, and when I glance back up and see the torn look in His eyes, I cannot look away. “Can you tell me what you want?” He whispers, and pulls my hand to his lips.  I whimper very quietly, wishing those lips were on mine and wondering what in the world to tell him.

“Do you want to keep our arrangement the way it is?” He questions, flipping my hand over and pressing his lips onto my wrist.
“No…” I exhale, willing him to continue.
“I need more than that, sweet girl.  What do you want?”  His mouth continues up my arm to the inside of my elbow, and when his tongue draws a circle on that sensitive area, I moan.
“Please, Sir… I think… I can’t… I don’t know,” my stammered whisper halts his advances.
“Do you want me to stop?” His voice burns through me, deep and heated.
“No, Sir,” I whisper, blushing.

He slides off his stool, and His lips glide up my arm to the edge of my cap sleeve work blouse.  He glides his fingers over the fabric to the buttons, and slowly, precisely, releases each one from their tiny loops.  “Is this what you want?” He breathes, inches from my lips.

“Uh-huh,” I mumble and lick my lips, beckoning Him to kiss me for the first time.  Having wondered what it would be like for so long, but never giving myself the chance to find out.

He resists my pull, and glides the shirt open, slipping it over my shoulders and down my arms.  He takes in the sight of my white lace encased breasts, sucking a breath in through his teeth, and when the blouse falls away, his hands hover over them as his eyes find mine again. “How about these, do you want me to touch these?”

“Oh, yes…” I hiss, and his hands drop, cupping and squeezing, before his fingers tug down the fabric and play with my hard nipples.
“These are quite nice, little one.  What would you like me to do now?” He challenges me, pulling away completely, and folding His arms across His broad chest.
“Sir, I don’t know… Please…”
“Please what, sweet Chelsea, what is it you want me to do?”
“I really… I can’t…”

He takes pity on me for a moment and pulls me to stand.  He slides a finger under my chin and drops His lips to mine, lightly brushing against my mouth until I try to deepen the kiss. As he pulls away again, I whine.

“Sir, I want you, please…” He stays completely still, staring into my eyes, waiting for me to finish.  “I want more.”

He doesn’t contemplate what I mean, but simply crushes me with his kiss.  His tongue dances in my mouth and his body molds into mine. His hands find my ass while his lips find my neck, and our groping only becomes more impatient as we continue.  When he finally frees me of my skirt, his hand makes its way between my thighs and when he feels how wet I am, he groans in appreciation as he pushes a finger past my panties and into me.

I’m already deliriously on the edge, so I tell him again, “I want more.”

He pushes another finger inside, wriggling them inside of me while his thumb circles and presses my clit.  I grind against him, and just before I’m about to explode, he pushes my legs apart with his feet, wraps his free hand around my neck and smacks my pussy, hard, three times.  I cry out and he growls against my ear, “Do you still want more?”

My mind is spinning.  It hurt, but felt SO good.  I can’t truly comprehend my desire for this… punishment, but He obviously can and has for months.  I suddenly realize he is holding me up by the throat, my legs are no longer supporting my weight.  But He isn’t choking me, I’m not struggling, and when he growls again in my ear for an answer, I moan, “Yes,” without fully considering what that might mean.

He swats me five times, and I whimper more, wanting more of his control, more of his correction.  That is what it has always been about.  I did really want him all this time, but wouldn’t allow myself to acknowledge it.  “Since we do not have a functioning agreement, you only have to tell me stop and I will, understand?” He whispers against my lips.  “Yes, Sir… More… Please….”

He lifts me onto the island, folding my arms against the small of my back, and pushing me back to lie on them.  Then he yanks off my panties, bends my knees and spreads them apart, so that I’m lying there open and exposed to him.  He hammers my pussy with several more blows and then kneads my clit with his knuckles.  My moans come from somewhere much deeper than my throat, and when I open my eyes to look at him, he is smiling, looking over me, and enjoying his control.  I am on fire with pleasure, and the idea that this is also bringing Him intense pleasure makes the word slip from my tongue, yet again.

“More!”  His smile turns to hot desire.  He holds my pussy lips apart with one hand, and smacks my clit directly, with the other.  The sharp sting is quickly dampened by the second, and the second by the third.  The pain stops registering as my eyes close and all I feel is the pressure building inside of me.  I can feel myself crying out, but I cannot hear it.  And as the pain starts to return, I feel his fingers slip inside and his hands working me like an instrument. Out of nowhere, I hear him in my ear say, “I need you to come, sweet Chelsea.  Come for your Sir!”

My body quivers and with one single little smack, he sends me flying up past the edge into the clouds.  They crash against me, as I fall back to earth, and I realize after only a few moments that he’s building toward another.  His fingers dance inside me and he dips his tongues into my folds, lapping up my silky wetness and moaning in delight.  “You taste heavenly, little one,” he croons and blows on my clit, sending goose bumps over my belly.

He sucks my clit into his mouth and the combination of sensations pushes me further and further until I suddenly explode into a thousand pieces.  My hips buck and writhe against his continued assault, “It’s too much, please….”

“No it’s not,” I hear him smile, and then feel it against my swollen clit. Massaging me with his tongue and fingers, simultaneously, inside and out, I am quickly driven back up into space, this time. “Relax, and bear down,” He whispers, and as I do, I feel the intensity for only a moment before I gush all over his beautiful face and crash through waves of fire and electricity, experiencing the most intense orgasm I’ve ever felt.

I feel like I’m floating and singing, but realize He is carrying me. As He walks across the dining room and living room, I realize He is taking me to His bed. I instantly remember Marie, which elicits thoughts of Rachel. How will this ever work?

My concern must be etched on my face, because he stops. “Have you changed your mind, sweet girl? Do you no longer want more?”
I exhale as He sets me on my feet. Is this what I want? To be His, but have to share Him with two other women who are clearly more beautiful, exotic, and experienced than me. You’ll lose Him completely if you don’t…

I search His face, wondering how it would even be possible. How would He be able to keep up, with a business and life to lead, two submissives must be difficult enough. Would I simply be the live in maid, who occasionally got fucked?

He wrapped His arms around me. He knew what I was thinking, and something in His eyes changed.

He filled His face with the command He uses with Rachel. “Stop thinking.” He realizes very quickly that Rachel’s Dom won’t get me. And before He even tries the mind-fuck he uses on Marie, He realizes that won’t do either.

I know now what I need. So I nod my head to Him and walk my naked ass into His room. I go into the bathroom, which is always messy, and start cleaning.

“What are doing, Chelsea?” The amused surprise is audible in His voice.

“Serving You, Master,” I smile.

…to be continued.