Tags: NSFW, public, dominance, submission, bondage, pain, first-person, anal
You know I can’t resist you in a beautiful dress. Watching the hemline rise up your thighs as you bend down at my silent command gives me just as much a reason to smile as your instant obedience. “What is he going to do to me?” I see the question flash across your face, quickly replaced with a subservient “I’ll do anything.” I trail my fingers down your cheek, lifting your face to look at me. The hint of your underwear teasingly revealed as you kneel makes me almost lick my lips before I note the time.
“We’re going to be late,” I announce, pulling away from your lips which had been so achingly eager to please me. Pulling you up to your feet by the chin, I give you a little slap. “You haven’t earned that yet.”
As I open the car door for you, and watch you slip inside, I lean down, my intense eyes staring into yours. “Panties, off.” My tone brooks no argument, as I close the door and walk to my side, getting ready to leave but not starting the car until your underwear lay discarded on the floor. “Good” is my only comment as I pull into the street. No music plays, no sound save the rushing air and other passing traffic as we make our way onto the freeway.
I don’t even turn to you as I speak, knowing you have no choice but to do what I say, for you understand full-well what it would mean to do otherwise. “Touch yourself,” I command, taking your left hand in mine, moving it into my lap. “And keep me hard while you doing so.” I wait until you move, tentatively at first, your right hand beneath your short dress, spreading your legs, knowing I’m watching from the corner of my eye, before continuing my instruction. “But don’t you dare cum. Not yet.”
I see you nod with understanding as you begin to stroke me, and start to trace your own hot lips with your fingers. My hand quickly moves to your breast, pinching the nipple—hard. “I didn’t hear you,” I chastise, ignoring your yelp of pain, twisting the soft skin between my fingers.
Managing not to pull your hands away—good girl—you stammer “No, no sir. No sir, I won’t.” I let your breast go, and return it to the steering wheel, directing the car through heavy evening traffic.
I smile, and my body responds beneath your touch, as you start to moan, those coy little sounds you always bite your lip to keep from making, as you tremble on the seat, your fingers sick with lust. “Not yet,” I murmur, “don’t you dare yet cum.” It feels good to know I didn’t need to remind you, that you know your place, and your instructions.
“No sir, I won’t,” you respond audibly, instantly this time, but the timbre in your voice tells me how badly you want to, how you need to come for me, to moan my name. Your laden breath rich with emotion, lust, and desire. You have to slow your touch, never quite stopping, to keep from crashing over the edge. I can see how badly you want the trip to end, or at least that I give you permission to give in.
Mercifully it isn’t long before I pull the car into a parking lot, killing the engine. It’s a nice Italian restaurant, but your thoughts are far away from food. I snap my fingers, demanding your attention before tracing a finger up your thigh, under your dress, and slipping so achingly slightly inside you, testing how wet you’ve made yourself. “Good girl.” I kiss your cheek as I pull out of you, letting you feel just how hard you’ve gotten me. I exit the car and open your door, casually offering you my arm as we walk inside, as if you weren’t having to keep your legs tight together to avoid dripping with desire.
Once seated, I beside the wall and you next to me in the booth, we exchange pleasantries with the waitress, even as I grin at you—the college co-ed has no idea that you spent the past twenty minutes fingering yourself while stroking me, or that you have nothing but hot lust beneath your dress. As she leaves to get our drinks, my voice drops and I whisper, almost harshly, in your ear. “Take out my cock.” I note the surprise in your eyes as you drop a hand beneath the table, unzipping my slacks, and freeing me, still hard, beneath the table. Keeping your hand on it, you look at me for more instructions. “Very good,” I commend, in passing. “You are going to keep me hard this entire meal, and the only lube you get to use is from your tight little pussy. I do hope you’re still wet.”
Seeing you swallow and take a deep breath is the highlight of my evening so far, as your fingers leave me and dip once more beneath your dress, returning to my shaft slick with your heat for me, starting to slide up and down my length. I almost casually let a small moan escape my lips as I tenderly feel your soft skin on mine—a voiceless approval.
The dinner goes well, though brief, both of us eating quickly. Your fingers wetter and wetter from the growing anticipation of what is yet to come, I respond with each new touch with a private purr, a moan, or a light kiss on your cheek, whispering “soon.” I love how your breath catches in your throat.
After the check comes, I take your face in my hand again, and kiss you ever so lightly on the lips, pulling back when you try to move in closer. “You have been such a wonderful girl, and done everything I ask. Now,” I start to command, moving your fingers from my still-hard cock back to between your own legs, wet to the point of soaking the back of your dress and the seat beneath. I slip two of your own fingers inside you before raising them to my lips, where I take them in my mouth, rolling my tongue over them, tasting every hint of you.
“Now, you are going to go to the bathroom and make yourself cum. Hard. For me.” Eyes flashing for emphasis, I fix my pants as I watch you walk away, knowing that at the top of those legs is an ache for my touch, tongue, my cock, that has been building all evening.
The drive home was quiet, a little satisfied smile on my lips the whole way. You had done well, and judging by your deep breaths when you returned to the table, you had done very well indeed.
“Would you care for some water?” I ask casually after we return home, the door locking solidly behind us. Raising your hand to my lips as you shake your head, I kiss the fingers that had been inside you, and on me, all evening. “Then come this way,” I order, my voice again dropping into the command tone. I don’t even wait to see if you would follow as I walk down the hall and into the bedroom. As I flick on the lights, it almost looks serene, not giving away any of my further plans for the evening. Except, as you take a step inside, you see the two long pieces of silk attached to the bed’s footboard. How would I use those? Would I?
Obediently you stand, waiting for me to say more, to command more. Turning, I smile, cupping your cheek and kissing you at the corner of your mouth. “Strip off this dress, those shoes,” I whisper, placing another kiss behind your ear, then on your neck.
I never grow tired of that sight—you standing nude before me, even as I remain dressed in a suit. Seeing your gentle curves, your creamy skin, how you move with every breath, how you no longer try to hide anything or shy away from my gaze. “Very, very good girl,” I remark almost to myself as I circle you, stopping behind you to run a finger up the inside of your thigh, a hand cupping your breast. “Very good.”
I point to the bed, only speaking once you start to move. “Face down, head this way,” I detail, as I stand at the foot of the bed. What delicious obedience as you crawl atop the covers, head looking up at me as you do as I command. “Arms out,” I add, moving to one of the silken ties.
It doesn’t take long for me to secure both of your hands to the footboard railing. Silent throughout—you hadn’t been told to speak, after all—you watch as I move to stand before you, stroking your hair. “You have done so every well; I think you’ve earned a little reward.” I love seeing the excitement flash in your eyes, how eager you are to please.
With exaggerated slowness I undo my tie, each button on my shirt, my belt, pants, and shoes. Slowly stripping before you, soon we are equally nude, rigid and hard at the tied beauty before me.
“Tonight,” I begin, as I take the half-step toward you, my cock at your head-height, “I’m going to show you something.” A hand at the back of your head, I close the distance between us, pulling your lips to me. “Make me cum,” I whisper as I place my tip against your soft mouth.
“Yes sir,” you whisper against my cock, lust dripping from your words as you eagerly take me. Feeling your tongue, your lips around me, I can’t help but start to rock my hips back and forth, letting you taste the whole of my length. Soon, with both hands on your head, I begin to go as deep as I want to, fucking your mouth more and more roughly, feeling your tongue trying—and failing—to keep up. After all the teasing, the playing in the car and at the restaurant, and the anticipation of giving you this reward, it isn’t long before I flick your cheek and say “look at me,” slowing as I withdraw almost completely. Your eyes opening, upturned and meeting mine, I slide back in, fully, without warning. Your gasp matches my own as I begin to cum, spasming waves rocking my body as you hungrily suck down each and every drop.
As I thrust again, one last time, almost bringing you to gagging, my breath is ragged in my throat. I begin to pull out, but not away, letting you kiss, suck, and lick me clean, all the while looking up at me. When my eyes finally open again and I meet your gaze, you say the words I know you would. “Thank you, sir.” Those three little words that send a new tremor through my cock.
I kneel then, and press my lips to yours with an urgency, a need, that’s almost surprising. Our tongues dance as we kiss, a moment that’s as passionate as anything we’ve ever shared. Almost regretfully I break the embrace, pecking twice more at the corners of your wet mouth, before standing.
I look down, at myself, and almost frown. “It looks like I’m starting to go soft; you had better fix that. Make sure I’m nice and wet,” I suggest, my tone almost a warning. I lean forward once more, and hold your gaze as you wrap your lips around me again, inviting me to grow in your mouth. With one nice, long lick across my length, I finally step back, cock dripping. “Tonight I’m going to show you just how multi-orgasmic I can be.” With an almost sinister grin I pat your cheek before moving out of sight, around the side of the bed.
Climbing atop it, between your legs, I take your hips in my hands. “Up,” I command, lifting you slightly. Getting your knees under you, made all the more difficult by your restraints, brings a purr to my lips, matched by your gasp as you feel my hot breath against your lips. “Good girl,” I breathe to your most sensitive skin. Then, sending shivers up your legs and down your spine, you feel my tongue on you, tasting your clit, even dipping inside you. “Still so wet? Very good,” I remark as I straighten, pressing the head of my throbbing cock, still slick from your mouth, against you.
“Are you ready to be fucked?” I ask, squeezing your hips to the point of pain for emphasis. “Are you ready to please me?”
“Yes sir, please, yes,” comes the reply, mirroring an almost frantic nodding of your head. You can’t see it, but a satisfied smile immediately grows across my face. I say nothing but start to press forward, even as I pull your hips back—taking my time, watching you part around me, watching you take me in.
Soon our hips meet as I fill you, drawing gasps and winces from you, the endless teasing and earlier orgasm warming you to fit me. With long, achingly slow strokes, I move back and forth, setting the rhythm. Unsure if you should move too, it’s only moments before your body rocks in time with mine, as if moving on its own, my hands not needing to guide you. On the bed we pant, shudder, and shake as we fuck, my nails dragging down your back and up your thighs, sometimes leaning forward to feel and play with your nipples.
At one point you can hear me suck on my fingers, before placing two at your ass. “Make me come,” I command, as I slide the first inside you, the second following strokes later.
“Yes, sir” you manage to gasp out at the new sensations.
With my cock thrusting deep within you—filling and stretching you with each stroke—my fingers playing in and out of your ass, it doesn’t take long for you to start begging, your breath ragged. “Please? Please sir, may I cum?”
My reply is delayed, with forceful thrusts threatening to drive you over the edge. Eventually I decide, “yes.”
Almost instantly I can feel you shake and grip me tighter, threatening to force me out of you, but I push against the feeling, claiming what is mine, both hands digging red marks on your hips. As I start to pump hot cum inside of you, my own muscles twitching and jerking, I exhale sharply between clenched teeth and you know—know—you have done well.
Collapsing on top of you, both of our knees giving out, even as my cock remain buried inside you. My breaths are raw in my throat, hot against the back of your neck, as shivers roil through our bodies. With a sincere tenderness I run fingers up and down your back, your side, eventually cupping your breast as I kiss the back of your neck, lost in the moment.
After long minutes cuddling on the bed, feeling the errant spasm of your legs in the orgasmic afterglow, and with your wrists still secured to the footboard, I pull out of you, both of us covered in the fruits of our passion. Moving to stand before you once again, I look down like a conquerer surveying his prize. “I’ve treated you well, haven’t I?” My fingers trace lightly down your red cheek.
I don’t even punish you for being unable to speak, taking your emphatic nod as answer enough. I think I make out a “yes sir, thank you sir” between rasping breaths.
“Then I think it’s time for my reward.” My response is business-like, without an ounce of tenderness in my voice. As you start, caught off-guard by the sudden change in my demeanor, I take your chin in my hand again, painfully,, as I lean in close. “Suck.”
My other hand brings my cock again to your lips, and past them, not waiting for you to be ready. With your arms still bound, you have no choice but to do as told, tasting the mix of our passions with every lick, every swallow. I rest a hand on the back of your head as a reminder to take as much of me as you can—there’s no force there, the reminder is enough for you to take me to the point of gagging.
Eventually pulling back, I merely say “good,” a barely off-hand comment, almost dismissive in its casualness. Walking again out of sight, this time I adjust the closet’s mirrored doors so that, if you crane your neck as far as your restraints allow, you can watch me. Meeting my gaze, my expression is flat, dry as I take a small bottle off the shelf—lubricant.
Mounting the bed once more as I stroke myself with the liquid, I command once more, “up.” My hands again lifting your hips, the lube slick against your skin. “This,” I announce plainly, “is my reward, for being so good to you.”
I let you watch me as I pull your cheeks apart, placing my cock against your ass. My eyes hold yours as I press forward, slowly pushing in, managing to slip my oiled head inside you. Feeling how incredibly tight you are, and watching you realize that this was my plan all along, with my fingers working to loosen you before.
I watch your eyes widen in shock and discomfort as I press on, slipping more of me inside you, noting how your teeth clench as I slowly but inexorably bury myself within. Even through the pain though, I note the trust and approval in your eyes—you are mine, and you wont’ stop me.
I don’t need your approval.
Deeper I force, until all of my slick, lubed shaft is buried within you, our hips again meeting. I withdraw, halfway, and push forward again, faster this time. And again, faster. And again. And again. I watch as your eyes roll back in your head, the mix of pleasure and pain overwhelming you. I see your hands clench at their restraints, wishing you could touch yourself while I thrust and knowing you can’t do anything. Soon the only sounds are our excited breaths, tight skin on skin, and our hips meeting with forceful impact.
I am taking what I want, how I want it.
I am fucking your ass, as fast and as deep as I please.
I had already cum twice this evening, once your mouth and again deep inside you. This time, it takes far longer for me to reach that climax, even with how tightly your ass grips me, even with the speed and force I’m fucking you with—even with how every rough thrust knocks you forward, my hands pulling you back onto me. My breath comes in sharp gusts, matching my thrusting, even as yours does, in time with my pleasure.
As I move faster, more forcefully, one hand moves from your hip, three fingers sliding against your slick lips. “And this is for you,” I gasp, fingering you with the same rhythm I pound your ass. A moaning sigh escapes your lips, and through half-lidded eyes you can see me grinning, fucking you completely and totally. Controlling you, knowing you love it.
Filling you, front and back.
It doesn’t take long after that for me to feel that tingling sensation again, that rising crescendo deep inside me. My fingers leave you, back on your hip, pulling you as tight onto me as possible as I moan, purr, and feel my breath catch behind my teeth. With a great shuddering sigh my thrusts stop, leaving me, rock-hard, buried deep in your ass, my cum hot inside you.
“And now,” I manage after a few minutes, still inside you, a finger toying at your clit, watching you feel so completely and wholly used, “you’re going to wash me off.”
I reach forward and begin to undo your silken restraints, pulled tight with your thrashing.
“Yes sir,” comes your dreamy reply—tired, in pain, and utterly satisfied.
Header image by Мария Ткачук from Pixabay, a wonderful source of royalty-free images.
