for brooke and her Master…thanks for the inspiration…. ~n~
He was busy on his side of the room, working. She sat quietly as He had ordered. She absolutely hated when his work took time away from their time…they had planned for this day weeks ago, and now his work had called with a problem, which had absorbed Him all morning.
Yet, despite the distance across the room, they were connected. She would look up, glance at him, he would feel the look. She could see the small smile play across his mouth. He was very aware of her.
That pleased her. She knew He gave attention to everything He did. Right now, work had much of that attention…but she had a part. She shifted minutely on the chair. The nubby textured fabric made the backs of her legs feel itchy, but she didn’t dare move. He had said “sit” in that implacable voice.
So she sat. Trying to be his good girl.
She jumped. She’d been wool-gathering again.
“Yes, Sir?” her voice was raspy, testament to the wicked face fucking He’d given her upon waking this morning. His cock had driven into her mouth hard and fast, the head sliding past the tightness of her throat, rubbing it raw with the violent strokes. A sore throat never felt so good, she mused.
“Stretch a bit. I’ll want you over here in a few more minutes.”
Her heart leapt with joy! She smiled broadly, and her face was lit from within, a beautiful glow suffusing her. He was caught, for a moment, under her spell. He took pride in owning such a good girl. A good slut, submissive, obedient, driven to serve.
She lifted her arms above her head for a moment, and a moment more, leaning slightly left, slightly right. As her body moved slowly, fluidly, her tits also rose, bobbling gently with her motions. The rose-colored nipples tightened reflexively as she stretched, hard little peaks jutting out into the room, begging wantonly for His attention.
He sat, watching her. Admiring the fullness of her chest, the fall of hair, the arch of her spine. As she yawned, he pictured his cock filling that open hole. As she relaxed, she opened her eyes, and saw Him watching. Saw the speculative gleam in his eye. A faint rise of his eyebrow silently ordered her from the chair to the floor.
She crawled across the room, her eyes locked on His, hips and ass swaying, until she came up beside His leg. Kneeling there, she waited.
He hit the “Save” key.
He rose from his chair, and turned. Reaching down, he took a fistful of her hair. He walked to the bed, using the thick length of it as a leash to bring her along. She winced.
He absorbed it. The shiver of her pain was just the opening volley in his aresenal of pain, arousal, and control. He was going to drink deeply of her, but was for now, content with this first sip of the sexual cocktail he was preparing.
He sat on the edge of the bed, legs splayed open. He pulled her into the deep vee there, until her tits touched his lower belly. He pulled her head back, far back, and once more he admired the curve of her stretching back, the beauty of her exposed throat. He watched her pulse racing in the hollow. Their eyes met. In hers he saw hunger. Hunger, and need, and compliance.
Satisfied, he lowered her head.
Releasing his hand from the tangle of tresses, he slowly unzipped his fly, unbuckled his belt. He withdrew his cock from within the confines of his pants. She licked her lips.
“use your left hand, slut, and begin to rub My pussy. I want it hot, wet and aching for My cock.”
She looked up at him, mystified. This was new! She began touching herself, exploring her folds, feeling the heat just being near him generated. She was slick with her own lust.
She watched him as he began stroking his cock. A frown briefly passed over her face.
She wanted to do that!
When she started to reach with her free hand, a tiny shake of His head forestalled her. Reluctantly she resisted the urge to lean forward and take that hard, hot shaft deeply into her mouth. She could see the glistening pearl of precum on the head, and she wanted. Yearned. Lusted for it. She was so fucking thirsty for Him.
“Fuck that pussy with your fingers, slut. Nice and slow. Deep. I want your knuckles coated in your slut-juice.”
she shoved two fingers up inside her, a bit awkward from her kneeling position. But she made it work! It wasn’t long before she was rocking her hips and moaning, close, closer to getting off.
His order was sharp and unexpected. He smiled at her moan of disappointment, taking in her still rocking hips, the glistening fingers.
His cock was hard, throbbing and as she watched, needing to cum so badly, he lifted the cock to her lips, and painted them with his precum.
Pulling slowly away, he pulled a single strand of cum from her lower lip to his cock.
They were connected.
“Play with that swollen, hard sex button, slut.”
She knew what would happen if she moved enough to break the strand of cum that joined them…..he’d get his cock sucked dry, while she’d be stranded on the knife-edge of need until tomorrow.
Slowly she twirled her finger around her clit. She dared not moan, barely took a breath. So good, so fucking good. And there was his cock hanging just out of reach, the thin, gleaming strand of cum holding them together. So fucking strong, that connection, and yet, so fucking fragile. The double stimulation was making her wild.
she’d been so close to cumming before, but the small break had backed her off a bit. Now she throbbed back into life. She felt her heartbeat in her clit. She felt the tremors of need wanting to break free, to wash over her like a storm wave breaks onto the shore. Rushing headlong into ….trouble.
her breath came in short pants, and she watched the swaying strand of cum pull and thin a moment. His cock was gleaming, the engorged head red with His lust. He needed to fuck as much as she did, and yet, he had such fucking control. His need would not overtake his desires. And his desire was to watch her deal with this conundrum. To move, to fully fuck herself , to make herself cum at his command, might risk losing all if the string broke.
And yet, not moving didn’t follow his order to get herself off ! she could not disobey His direct order.
Damned if she did, and damned if she didn’t, she knew He’d won again. Without touching more than his cockhead to her lips, she was well and truly fucked.