When I get like this

When I get like this… when I get like this, I can’t breath. My whole body is wired, hyper-aware and it feels like I am huge, like I am bursting out of my skin, like the body that contains me isn’t big enough to hold this feeling, will explode with it, like my skin will split and I will not slowly bleed out of it as much as burst out in a new guise.

And you are here, right HERE, and I am looming, which is the word, the right word, looming, huge and dark. And you are afraid, even though you know its me.

And I crawl, which seems odd for a dominant woman, but I do. You are here, before me, you are kneeling, always. And I crawl towards you, relentless, and I am so fucking ravenous, I want all of you and I don’t know which part of you I want most, or first, or next, I want it all and I want it all now and I am not big enough for that and I don’t have enough mouths, hands, cunts, to take you all at once. But I want you, all at once. And when I reach you, I keep crawling, straight over you, like some huge machine that will suck you up as I cover your body with mine.

And I start with my mouth low, at your cock and you want me to sucklicktonguekissbite, but I am only there on the path to absorbing you, and my mouth is all over you, all parts of you, all at once as I move up your body and I push and I push and you are forced backwards, and it is awkward and you try to stop yourself tipping and I am still moving forward and as I move up you are forced backwards, I can feel your body under me, your skin hot and sweating and I keep crawling over your body and as my mouth reaches your mouth, you are bent backwards and I am all over you, your skin hot and sweating under me and I am like a huge maw and you are disappearing into me, my cunt taking your cock inside, my mouth swallowing yours, and it’s not nearly enough, and all of me is aching and prickly and every touch hurts and you are hard and melting and when I stop and put my weight on you, you start to tremble with the awkward position I have forced you into and I don’t care and I put my weight on you and you moan and I cover you, all of me swallowing all of you and it’s still not enough, and I get into your head and I consume your thoughts, your emotions, your feelings and I take them all into me and they become mine and when I am finished all of you belongs to me.

I fucking want you.

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Pegs

She told him to get up on the bed on his knees, and he scrambled up, kneeling on the edge of the bed, his hands cuffed behind him. She brought out the three pegs he had brought with him, the ‘macho’ pegs, the marquee pegs, the ‘hold-things-in-a-cyclone’ pegs and smiled at him. She brought her mouth to his left nipple, sucking and biting at it before putting the first peg on him, she took quite a bit of flesh, her mouth having made it slippery. She repeated this with his right nipple, and stood back a little to look at him.

“Does it hurt?” she asked him.

He looked relieved… “No, not a lot”, he admitted.

She stroked him from his neck to his navel, then moved the pegs to just be on the tips of his nipples and saw him wince, his eyes squeezing shut, his face screwing up with pain. He had never had this done to him before, and he shook his head violently from side to side, mouth and eyes squeezed shut.

“You can swear if you want to” she told him, watching his contorted face closely, thinking it looked beautiful.

“Fuck… fuck… fucking bastard…FUCK, FUCK…!!”.

She laughed softly, and wondered, really, if he did this for her, this swearing, because he knows she loves it… she didn’t think the pegs hurt that much, but the sound of him in pain made her stomach turn over with lust.

She chased his mouth, even as the swear words poured out, but he was shaking his head from side to side, trying to find somewhere to put the pain. She held his head still by his chin and she caught his mouth, she kissed him hard and he kissed her back, his mouth opening to hers, her violence in the kiss making the pain lessen. She kept asking him if it hurt, and he kept saying ‘yes, yes YES’, his answer getting shorter and more frustrated. He was wincing, struggling, not paying attention to her due to the pain. She trailed her fingers over him. His boxers were wet with precome, his cock hard.

She told him he could ask her to take the pegs off if he wanted, and he immediately asked “Please Ma’am, please take them off”. She kissed him again, waiting until she had his attention from the pain and he put himself into the kiss. Then she took the pegs off, and his body slumped in relief and his face relaxed and she moved close to him.

“Do you want to see how wet this makes me?” she asked, looking into his eyes.

“Yes Ma’am”, he nodded, his face open to her now, his pain forgotten.

She was standing very close to him, she undid her belt and jeans… He leaned away from her a little so that he could watch as she slid her hand down into her panties. She was very wet and her fingers slid easily down her pussy, she stroked herself amazed at how wet she was. She brought a glistening finger up to show him, then put it on his lips.

“Do you want to taste me?”, she asked.

His eyes were on hers, his mouth already open, his breathing shallow, “Yes please Ma’am”.

She slid her finger into his mouth and he licked at it. She moved her finger in and out of his mouth gently, feeling his tongue lapping at it.

“Do you want to *feel* how wet you make me?”.

“Yes please Ma’am”. She considered making him beg, but she felt as if he was struggling a little with all this newness, that it was all he could do to stay with her.

She leaned into him, reaching behind him, pressing against his skin, and undid his cuffs. She brought his left hand out from behind his back, took off the cuff and guided his hand down her flat stomach into her panties. He was fumbling a little, and she covered his hand with hers and pushed it down. He made a noise in the back of his throat as he found the wetness and slid his fingers along her pussy, his mouth open, his breathing heavy. She pushed his hand down so that his fingertips just entered her, then pulled him up slowly, feeling his fingers wanting to get more of her, wanting to find her clit. She rocked against him just a little. He brought his other hand to her hip to pull her to him and she shoved it back behind his back and hissed ‘No!’.

She pulled his hand out of her pants and directed it to his mouth, he licked his lips and he waited, looking into her eyes. She wondered if he was going to beg, but he waited, his tongue already moving in anticipation. She pushed his fingers hard into his mouth, and he sucked on his fingers, his eyes never leaving hers.

“Was I wet?” she asked unnecessarily, pulling his fingers from his mouth.

He nodded and smiled at her, “Oh yes Ma’am”.

She took off his other cuff and put a blindfold on him. Unable to resist his mouth, she held his hands behind his back, pressed against him and found his mouth with hers, playing with the fact that he couldn’t see, pulling away and coming back to him suddenly, watching his mouth anticipate the contact then denying him.

Finally, she stepped back from him.

“Undress me” she instructed him.

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Thinking

Thinking…
About masturbating
Thinking about you, and thinking about masturbating
Thinking about you, spread-eagle, restrained and blindfolded
Face up, on a bed
And I touch you, with my fingers, my mouth, my hair, my breasts
Different places, all over, in different ways, to see how you react
And if I get what I want I do more of it
Like I might expect if I licked your cock from base to head with the flat of my tongue
Or if I nipped the inside of your thigh with my teeth
Or if I stroked your lips with my breast and then a nipple
Or if I licked and nibbled at your neck, right at the jugular
Or if I straddled your chest and rocked my cunt against you, wet
Or if I held your head still by your hair and kissed your mouth without letting you kiss me back
Or if I rubbed your cock softly with my pussy, just stroking it in the wetness

Would you fuck up against me to get more contact?
I would move out of your reach, because I would love to see you fuck up towards me and not get what you want
And maybe if you looked like you wanted it badly enough, and you moaned in frustration, I would take your mouth with mine and swallow the moan down my throat

And maybe I would bring my cunt up close to your mouth
And maybe I would ask you how much you wanted it
And maybe I would stroke myself, close to your face
And linger on my clit, and it would make me moan
And maybe I would slide two fingers inside myself and back up to my clit, and down again in a hypnotic motion
And bring my fingers to your mouth, and touch your lips
And keep my fingers touching your lips, wet, so you can smell me, and make you beg to taste me
And if you begged, I would slide my fingers into your mouth and gently fuck your mouth with them
Sliding them over your tongue and whispering ‘lick me baby’
And maybe your tongue would feel so fucking good that I have to have it on my cunt

And I would lean down and kiss you, with my fingers still in your mouth, and my tongue in your mouth, and ask you if you want to lick my cunt
And maybe I would straddle your face and bring your mouth up to me, and watch your tongue reach for my cunt and keep it just out of reach
And hold your head away from me by your hair and ask you what you are waiting for
And feel you pull against my fist in your hair

And maybe if you said please enough times, I would relent and bring your mouth to my cunt and let you lick me
And I would want to fuck your mouth, but I would want the licking more
I would want you to make me come, but maybe, maybe you won’t be allowed to
So maybe I would stop you if I was close to coming
And I would tell you that you don’t get to make me come
So maybe I would kiss you, taste myself on you and whisper that maybe next time
Excruciating isn’t it?
Delicious

I’m so fucking wet
Like an itchy restless springwell of want

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Tears

I have you in cuffs, face up on the bed, but only your ankles are restrained. You have one hand stroking your cock, the other is covering your face. You are making a muffled sound through your fingers. I realise you are trying not to cry. I make you remove your hand from your face and I look at you. Your mouth is trembling, your face contorted. My pussy throbs, and I stroke your face.

“Let it go baby.”

A heartbreaking sob comes out of your mouth and I want to fucking eat your mouth. Your body is wracked with sobs, you convulse with the strength of your sobbing, and I am wet. I can hardly breathe I’m so turned on and I cover your lips with mine and rape your sobbing mouth with my tongue. And you can’t kiss me back, you are crying so hard, and there are tears. And I want them on my cunt, those tears. I’m ravenous for the sobbing and the tears and the hurt and whatever it is that is making you like this.

I don’t know why you are like this and I don’t care. I straddle your chest, feeling it heave under me, and I lean forward to feel it against my pussy. And you are still hard and you are still stroking your cock and you are sobbing your heart out, mouth open, eyes running.

I move up to cover your mouth with my pussy, and you sob and you lick me and I feel your tears on my thighs and your body is shaking and still you you lick me and I don’t have to look to know that you are still hard, and your crying resonates in my cunt and I move against your mouth relentlessly and it’s one of the hottest things I have ever felt.

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I know you

I see you heading home, I already know where you live, I have been watching you, I follow you. You are distracted as you turn into your building and I follow you up to your apartment.

My pulse quickens as I watch you open your door, I catch up, step quickly in behind you and close the door. You turn and look at me… a tall blonde has followed you into your apartment and your mind can’t quite grasp what that means. I look you up and down, you are wearing khakis, desert boots, a blue button down shirt, a cap, clothes familiar to me, you wear that uniform a lot as you go about your day. I give you a half smile and you cock your head, a quizzical look on your face. I am wet already.

I step towards you and you take a step back, there in the entrance way of your apartment. You look over my shoulder and I can tell you are looking for a way to get me out. I take two more steps towards you with a smile and your back is to the wall.

“Hey…” you are genuinely puzzled.

“Shut up!” I retort quickly.

You start to laugh, a nervous laugh, until you see the expression on my face, which makes you stop.

“I said shut the fuck up!”

I show you the knife in my hand, small, evil-sharp and still your look is confused, you don’t understand what is going on. I grab your throat and shove your head back and it hits the wall with a thud. I apply some pressure and watch your eyes widen and I want to fuck you so bad, I can taste it. With the knife at your neck, I bring handcuffs out of my bag.

“Hands behind your back, boy,” I hiss, and I quickly fasten them before you can get your bearings.

I pull you from the wall and shove you into your apartment. I can see that you are still not getting it. Maybe you think I am here to rob you, who knows what you think, who cares. I knock your cap off your head and rip your shirt open, buttons flying. You are looking at me and I see the lights go on.

“What the fuck…??!”

“Didn’t I tell you to shut the fuck up?”

I slap your face and see the shock register. I slap you again, and again, full strength, your face flying from the force of it. I streak my nails down your chest, hard, leaving trails of red. And again and again I tear at your skin. You are flinching, stepping back away from me until your knees hit the couch and you can either sit or stand. You choose to stand; your eyes are racing around the apartment, looking for something, some way to get me out of there, to distract me.

“You make a sound and I will fucking cut you,” I hiss, the knife still in my hand and at your ribs.

I undo your belt, the button of your pants and take down your zipper. I laugh when I see you are hard.

“You fucking slut, you want this, I knew you would.”

You start to protest, “No, I fucking don’t you crazy bitch!”

You sound angry, but you are blushing, embarrassed, hard. I shove your pants down, along with your boxers, and your cock is rock hard, leaking precome and I smack it, once, twice. You wince and cry out and I grab your pubic hair and pull it hard.

“Didn’t I tell you to shut the fuck up?”

I grab you by the neck and shove you around the other side of the couch, your pants around your knees, you nearly fall over. I push you over the back of it, forcing your face down into the cushions, your ass up, inviting me. I want to fuck you so bad and I am angry-aggressive and I start to hit your ass, smacking it hard, over and over, finding a rhythm, watching it redden, and your hips start to move with my smacking, and I realise you are rubbing yourself against the couch, and it makes me fucking crazy.

“Are you getting off on this, you fucking slut? I haven’t even started with you yet!”

I shove your shirt up to expose your back and again I scratch you, from your shoulders to your hips, feeling your skin come off under my nails, red streaks left behind, your back arches under my fingers and you start to make little mewling sounds as I hit the same spots over and over.

“Don’t fucking move,” I whisper, and I press the knife into your ribs for emphasis.

I quickly take my t-shirt off, my belt, jeans, panties. You don’t move, waiting there, your back and ass now reddened, blood seeping from the deep scratches, your breathing heavy.

“Please, please, please, pleaseplease,” you keep repeating obsessively and I have no idea what you are pleading for, but nothing is up to you anyway.

I can feel the wetness at the crotch of my panties in my hand. I lean over you, and god, the contact of your hot skin makes me ravenous and I press against you, my thighs against yours, my pussy against your ass, my breasts on your back, your cuffed hands between our bodies. I pull your head back and shove my panties into your mouth.

I rip your belt out of your trousers and move quickly to the front of the couch and attach it to the couch leg in front of you. You watch me as I am doing that, my panties in your mouth, your wide eyes scanning my naked body, but they keep flicking back to look at the knife in my hand and you shake your head. I quickly undo one of your cuffs, bring your hands down to the seat of the couch and reattach them to the belt.

I look into your eyes, “I’m going to fuck your ass, you fucking slut, and it’s going to hurt. You’re going to like that aren’t you?”

You shake your head violently at me and I see real fear for the first time. I slap your face.

“You’re going to like me fucking your ass, aren’t you?” I ask again.

You shake your head again, your eyes pleading with me. I slap your face again; you are still shaking your head. I slap you over and again until you stop shaking your head and your eyes are filled with tears, from the pain of the slapping or from the acknowledgment you have to make I don’t know.

“I said, you are going to like it, aren’t you, you fucking slut?”

You nod, slowly. I want to fuck you so bad.

I move back to your ass, I have the strap-on in my bag, and I slip it on.

“It’s not so very big,’ I say to you as I run my fingers over your ass.

You flinch away from me, which makes me want to shove this cock into you in one hard thrust and listen to you scream against my panties in your mouth. I gather some wetness from my pussy and I play my wet fingers around your asshole, wanting to laugh as you lift your ass towards my touch as I rub against you, and you start again, grinding your cock against the couch as I play my fingers around your ass.

I shove a finger, two fingers into your ass, no longer playing, no longer gentle, and you cry out into your gag. You pull away from me, but there is nowhere for you to go and I fuck you with them. I press against you as I move them in and out of your ass, my thighs against yours, my cock resting on your ass. When you start to push back against me, I lean down to your ear.

“You greedy fucking whore, you love this don’t you?”

You moan, I think you are shaking your head again. I want to fuck you so bad.

I place the head of my cock against your asshole, I slide against you a little, I apply a little pressure, feeling the push of it on my clit and I wait.

“Fuck me,” I demand.

You make a sound into my panties. I smack your ass, already red, over and over.

“Fuck me, boy,” I say again.

You push back against me and it’s so fucking sexy it makes me growl deep in my throat and I hold my position, watching my cock press against your ass. You are moving against me, and I thrust hard into your ass, and the head of my cock pops in and you make a high pitched sound. I wait there, circling my hips against you, but not pushing any further, teasing myself with the pressure on my clit.

I lean forward over you, grab your shoulder and thrust into you in one hard movement and I hear you scream into the gag. I lie against you, all that skin on skin, my cock inside you. I want to fuck you so bad.

So I fuck you, moving so that the strap-on hits my clit over and over, and I grab onto your hips to hold you right there and I stop now and then just to circle my clit against the pressure, rubbing, and adjusting the position, and when I stop, I feel you shoving back against me even though your sounds of pain are continuous.

“I knew you would love this, you dirty fucking slut,” I gloat.

It feels like I am fucking you forever and the force makes your cock rub against the couch and you make muffled grunting sounds through the gag and they feed my hunger. You push back against me, fucking me and I wonder if that bucking against me and that groaning meant you had come, but I don’t care, I just want that pressure that rubbing and finally, with the thrusting and the fucking, I come in your ass, hard, shoving my cock into you as I prolong the pressure against my clit, and it’s so fucking good, I collapse against your back, catching my breath.

I undo the straps, and leave my cock in your ass as I step back. You are making some strange wet snuffling noises as I quickly dress, minus the panties. I move around to the front of the couch and kneel down in front of your face. You look up at me, your eyes wet with tears, your nose running, my panties still in your mouth.

“You loved that didn’t you, you fucking cock-slut?”

Your face shows resignation as you nod your head wearily. I rip my panties out of your mouth.

“Tell me,” I demand.

You lick your dry lips with your dry tongue and your eyes can’t meet mine.

“I loved it,” you whisper.

I hold your chin up, “Look at me, you fucking slut and tell me again, say it.”

You look into my eyes, your lips moving without a sound and I wait. You flush a bright red and you let out a sob.

“I loved it, you fucking my ass, I loved it,” you whisper, barely audible.

I nod.

“I know you,” I say.

I throw the key to the handcuffs down on the couch and I walk out, leaving the door open behind me.

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Coming home 2

…continued from Coming home 1

She finally took her foot from his mouth, stood up, hiked up her skirt and straddled him, whumping down onto his chest so his breath left his body in a huff, her bare arse in her g-string against his chest. He drew gasping breaths as she pulled his arms down, and trapped them against his body with her knees and legs on either side of him. She shimmied up towards his face and pulled his head up by his hair so that he was facing her crotch.

“Is this what you want, boy?” she asked as she widened her legs and inched a little closer to his face.

His eyes on her, he tried to nod.

“Yes, Ma’am, please, please,” He strained to get to her with his mouth, but she was well out of reach.

“Well what are you waiting for?” she asked disingenuously, knowing he couldn’t reach her, watching him crane his neck, trying regardless.

“You want to taste me, boy?”

“Please Ma’am, yes, please, please let me taste you, I’m begging you please let me lick you, please…”

While he watched from inches away, she brought her fingers to her crotch and scratched gently at the fabric covering her pussy, pushing the material against her wetness. She slipped her fingers inside her panties, and slid them along the slickness, from her clit, where she lingered for long enough to feel her muscles tense involuntarily, down to slide easily into her, making her fingers wet.

She drew her fingers out of her panties and offered them to his mouth, knowing he could smell her, watching his tongue desperately trying to reach her fingers.

“Do you want it, to taste me?” she asked again.

He moaned in desperation. “Please Ma’am, please yes yes please let me taste you.”

She put her wet, slick fingers on his lips and slid them into his mouth. He sucked on them greedily, moaning as he tasted her. She fucked his mouth gently with her fingers, his tongue licking madly at them, trying to get it all. She leaned forward to watch him closely as she fucked his mouth a little harder, sliding her fingers over his tongue, further into his mouth. He opened his mouth wider to accommodate her and sucked hard at her fingers, his low moans hitting her like a sledgehammer.

Her fingers slid into the back of his throat, surely all her juices gone now, but still he sucked on them greedily. They hit the back of his throat and she felt his throat close as he gagged, and his body convulsed. She forced her fingers back there again, his gag reflex more sensitive now, and he choked and gagged, trying to get away from her fingers. She slid them in and out again, shallower, fucking his mouth, feeling his tongue on them, then shoved back deep into his throat again, closely watching his face go red, tears welling in his eyes as he gagged. She kept her fingers deep in his throat, giving him no relief as he tried to pull away, gagging, struggling, choking. His tears running freely down the sides of his face made her pussy throb.

She pulled her fingers out of his mouth and he struggled to catch his breath. She shimmied down his body a little so that she could lean down and kiss him softly, nudging his lips open with hers, letting her tongue taste his violated mouth as he tried to catch his breath. She licked his tears, salty on his skin, and the tenderness she felt almost broke her heart.

Standing suddenly, she turned and walked towards the bedroom, shedding her clothes as she went. Jacket, shirt, bra dropped to the floor. She knew he would pick them up as he followed her. She undid her skirt and stepped out of it, leaving it on the floor also.

She didn’t look behind her, but could picture him crawling quickly after her, picking up her clothes, watching her retreating arse. She waited there in the bedroom for him to reach her.

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Coming home 1

She sighed as she walked through the front door, throwing her briefcase by the hall table. She smoothed her skirt, shrugged in her jacket, took a deep breath and turned to look into the lounge room.

He was sprawled on the couch in jeans and t-shirt, comfortable, had been watching television. He had glanced up when she entered and now he was looking at her, a half smile on his face, a question in his eyes. He knew better than to approach her without permission when she got home from work, so he waited.

She caught his eye, and held his gaze for several minutes, assessing her mood. Making up her mind, she called him.

“Here, now.”

He beamed at her and her heart skipped a beat. He lept off the couch and did a running slide to her across the hardwood floor, ending up on his knees at her feet. She laughed, leaning down to bring his chin up to her and kissed his mouth softly.

He immediately reached up for more of her kiss, his lips aggressively opening hers, his tongue in her mouth, tasting her. She felt his hands reaching for her, and before she could stop him, they were on her breasts, his fingers seeking out her nipples.

She pushed him backwards away from her. Her eyes flashed.

“Greedy slut,” she hissed.

She could see his hardening cock outlined against the front of his jeans, she grabbed a fistful of his hair. Her heart was racing, a combination of lust and steely disapproval making her head spin.

She leaned down and whispered, “What exactly was that?”

He breathed his apology into her ear, “Sorry, sorry Ma’am.”

She leaned away from him, holding his eyes with hers, keeping him still by his hair. She drank in the uncertainty in his eyes before she slapped his face, watching his eyes register the sting and the shock that always appeared, even when he saw it coming. She didn’t need to look to know it made his cock strain harder against his jeans. She took a deep breath, holding back a sound rising in her throat. She slapped him again, and god, his expression… she swore to herself that if she just kept doing it, this one thing, she would come just from watching him react. She slapped him again, he let out a soft moan.

She leaned down and rubbed her cheek gently against his warm reddening face, and imagined she could feel the sting against her skin.

She stalked into the lounge room, knowing he would follow. He crawled as quickly as he could after her. She flopped down on the couch and held her foot out to him. He kissed her black boot and let his lips brush her ankle before pulling it from her foot. She sighed with relief and offered her other foot where he repeated the ritual. He knelt back and waited for further instructions as she regarded him.

“Strip.”

He quickly pulled his t-shirt off over his head. His pants were more difficult given he was kneeling, but he had done this many times and was quickly nude, kneeling, waiting.

She lifted one foot up to his shoulder, her skirt riding up her thighs. He stared directly and unashamedly at her crotch, his mouth slightly open, breathing deeply to take in her scent as she widened her legs. She applied pressure with her foot to the side of his face, and he followed the pressure sideways until his cheek was against the floor, her foot holding his head down.

“On your back,” she whispered.

He rolled over onto his back, and she rubbed her foot from his face, down his body, stroking his cock with it, applying pressure to his balls, then sliding it back up to his face. She stopped with her foot over his mouth.

“Lick it.”

He reached out his tongue and she felt him lapping at the arch of her foot. He held her ankle gently with both hands and brought every inch of her foot to his mouth, straining to reach her toes to suck them, to taste her. When she was satisfied, she offered her other foot for his attention. She relaxed back against the couch, letting the day go.

…continued here Coming home 2

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Payment for service

I had a massage from a man today, which I normally hate. He was a short, stocky, strong looking, blonde American.

We talked a little, he made me laugh, his hands were wonderful, he breathed heavily and made small grunting noises as he worked on my body.

And during the massage, with the pain, with the strong hands, with the rubbing, with the touching, with the oil and with him being quietly funny and interesting, I got turned on, inexplicably, not hugely hugely, but enough to make it very pleasant indeed.

At one point, he pressed a very hard part of his body against me (a very muscular thigh I assume, his cock I thought) and then rocked me back and forth so that I rubbed rhythmically against that body part. Delicious.

And later, he hurt me, in the way that good masseuses do, and it made me moan and he smiled and said, “It feels good when I stop doesn’t it?” Fucking delicious.

At the end, I was face up, he stood at my head, he slid his hands under my shoulders and down along my back. He pressed his fingers strongly towards the ceiling, forcing my breasts upwards and he held me there. His mouth close to my ear, he was breathing heavily and grunting slightly as he moved his fingers every so often, pressing into my muscles in different locations. I was breathing deeply into the pain. All I could hear in the room was the heavy breathing and the gentle grunts, his hands holding me in place.

Sexy, lovely.

What has this to do with domination? Paying a man to service my body…

“Here boy, you need the money? Then you had better start there, at my feet…”

There’s something about that… something…

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Undressing

While waiting for the lift, she kissed him softly, drawing his face to hers with her fingers in his hair. A first kiss, exploratory, tasting him a little. She kissed him a little harder in the lifts, experimenting a little with her mouth on his, leaning into him, holding his mouth to her by his hair. He was suddenly shy, nervous, she could feel it in his hesitation, his breathing quick and shallow.

When the lift doors opened, she led him to her room by the hand, she opened the door and he walked in ahead of her and stood there, waiting expectantly. She shut the door behind her, and went to him, standing so close she knew he felt stifled, invading his space, her face inches from his, she was taller than his six foot in her stilettoed boots.

She gripped his hair again and kissed him more aggressively, biting at his lips, licking his tongue. She held his head back from her mouth by his hair… he didn’t reach for her, but waited passively for her to continue. She looked into his eyes, trying to read him, finding it difficult. She kissed him both softly and hard, and he returned the kisses tentatively. She expected he was terrified of doing the wrong thing. She pressed against him while kissing him aggressively, she felt his cock rising against her, his breath catching when she released his mouth.

She started to touch his skin under his shirt, stroking him. She nudged against his neck, then closed her teeth on his skin and he flinched. She reminded him about his safe words and made him repeat them back to her.

She gestured for him to raise his arms, and she slid his shirt off over his head, and walked around him, touching his bare skin gently, his chest, his nipples, his stomach, his back, his arms. She undid his jeans and slid her fingers down his pants. He stood silent, still, his breathing shallow, his eyes closed as she touched him. She told him to open his eyes, to look at her. He complied and she studied his face. She tried to read his expression. “Are you doing ok baby?”, she asked. He looked into her eyes and nodded, “Yes Ma’am”.

She sat on the bed, “Take your jeans off”, and she watched him strip. He left his boxers on, charcoal, as ordered. She told him to lock his hands behind his head and explained that this was the ‘Stand’ position. She then had him ‘Stand wide’, with his feet apart. He complied quickly, a questioning look on his face until she nodded approval and she saw his relief in the acknowledgement. The position made him stand proud and straight, his abs stretched, his arms flexed, his cock hard, precum marking the front of his boxers. She loved seeing him like this.

She looked him up and down, slowly, drinking him in. He was fit, lean, strong, his eyes showed a mixture of fear and doubt, his cock revealed his desire, his breathing still shallow and quick. He hated silences, and she knew her staring unnerved him, and still she stared silently at him. He looked so nervous, she tried not to smile.

“Kneel”, she said, finally. He dropped to his knees, his eyes downcast. She watched him. He had never knelt before, he looked uncomfortable and her heart melted just a little

“Come here”, and he moved awkwardly towards her on his knees. He stopped about a metre away from her and looked up for approval. She beckoned him closer. He shuffled forward but still not close enough so she beckoned him again, widening her legs so he had room to come right up against the bed between them. He looked up at her.

She took his left wrist and put the heavy leather cuff on it, enjoying how it looked. She did the same on his right wrist and told him how pretty they looked. “Don’t they look pretty?” she asked him. He agreed, “Yes Ma’am”. She laughed, and called him a liar… “You don’t think they look pretty at all do you?”. He smiled, relaxing just a little, “No Ma’am, not really”.

She reached behind him, leaning against his chest to connect the cuffs behind his back. He had never been cuffed before, had never been restrained before. Her face was close to his, and she felt him tilt his head to rub his cheek against hers. She let him get that comfort from her as she attached the clips and she waited there for a moment to let him get used to how it felt.

She sat back up and he looked up at her, he was open, looked a little like a deer in the headlights. She held his face in her hands and kissed him again, opening his mouth, demanding, feeling hunger rise now that he was more helpless, pressing her crotch into him, pushing against him, her legs on either side of his body, wanting to feel his skin through her jeans, the heat of him. She felt him trying to rise to her, the first time he had truly responded to her as she wanted and she felt an ache in her throat. She finally let his mouth go, her lips felt bruised, her breathing heavy.

She told him to get up on the bed on his knees, and he scrambled up. She took out the pegs he had brought with him at her request and smiled at him.

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Aggression

Aggression, teeth grinding jaw clenching aggression, barely contained muscle tightening growling aggression. And I need it to go somewhere and I need it to be released and I need a target and I need to come.

I need to fuck and I need to fuck with and I want him invisible and irrelevant and I want him empty, a receptacle, with no eyes and no name. And I want him to be hard, all over, I want lean muscles straining, biceps and a six pack and hard thighs, a cock that weeps precum and a mouth that screams and begs and skin that reddens and welts and bleeds sweat on a body that fights against bondage without hope.

And I want that hopelessness and I want to hurt him everywhere and watch the panic and I want him gasping for breath and I want tears and kisses that bite and I want to hit him with everything I’ve got and make him beg for more and I want to tear apart his muscles and watch them melt and I need to come.

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