Tag: submissive

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