Dominus litus; Master of Proceedings….
Despite the awkwardness of the space, she shimmied out of her jeans, and slid her foot into waistband of the skirt.
Ohgawd! She was trying to ignore his presence, watching her strip and change in the confines of the limo they shared. The loose tee-shirt slid down her arm, nearly baring her breast. She would have tugged it back up, but his gesture stopped her.
He sat on the other end of the long row of seating. She moved towards him.
“On your knees, slut. Crawl to me.”
Momentarily she shut her eyes. A wave of embarrassment flushed her cheeks. Yet she dropped to her knees, palms on the lush carpeting, and began moving towards him.
“Look at me. I want to see that you understand your place here, as you come to me in penitence.”
Her eyes opened, locking on his face. There was that half-smile again. Her tits swung with the movement of the limousine, all but falling out of the shirt she had donned at his behest. She stopped in front of him, and recalling some long-ago snippet at a munch, sat back on her haunches, palms up, and resting on her thighs.
He gave a brief nod of approval.
“Very pretty. You have lovely tits. And an enticing bottom. Now, up here.” He patted his lap. She didn’t want to. She really, really didn’t want to.
Her pussy said otherwise.
He tugged her up and over his legs, the underside of her tits pressing against his lower leg. His hand traced lightly up her thigh, and onto her ass. It tickled. She wriggled.
He shifted under her, his leg coming over hers to hold her. The sharp crack of his hand on her bottom sounded loudly within the confines of the car. She swore she would not make a single sound! It was just one little transgression, after all.
Blows came at a steady pace, one after another across her ass. She could feel the heat, imagined the redness. Every third or fourth blow he would hit the exact same spot for a time, then go back to swatting her entire bottom.
Would he never stop?
“Stubbornness will never help your cause, slut.”
He hit, harder, faster now. She wriggled, but could not move away. She tried to cover her ass with her free hand, but he captured it, pulling it up between her shoulder blades and holding it there easily.
He hit; she grunted.
He hit; she moaned.
He hit; she snuffled.
It felt like fire. Like hell. She was not going to cry. Not going to cry…no..
The first tears fell almost unnoticed. A handful more of blows landed on her aching butt, before he released her pinned arm, and grabbed a fistful of her hair. Pushing her off his lap, and tugging her face up to his, he looked deeply at her tear-streaked face.
“Pride goeth before a fall.” He scowled at her. “Unzip my fly and release my cock,” he demanded. And she understood this was an order, not a request. She obeyed, instantly.
His cock, heavy and thick, rose from his zipper. The hand holding her head pushed her toward it, rubbing the wet crown of it around her lips, before his fist wrapped around the turgid shaft. He fed his cock into her mouth, far deeper than she would have, given the opportunity. In seconds, both of his hands were on her head, fucking her mouth up and down his cock. Gagging, she found a rhythm to snatch a breath, then gag again as he hit the back of her throat. She had little deep-throat experience, and none recently. The last Dom she had played with regularly was more into smacking her, and fucking her ass, than blow jobs.
He held her up by her hair, both of them breathing hard.
“Sit on my cock. Slowly. I want to feel every inch of your pussy taking it deep into your tunnel.”
When she would have straddled him, he grabbed her hips and spun her about. Her back to him, she felt him helping to ease her down, down, down, until he was buried inside her.
She tried to rise, to fuck him. He held her still.
“Some things are meant to savor slowly, slut. For now I will simply enjoy the feeling of your cunt hugging my cock.” He pulled her back to lean against his chest, his fingers toying with her tits. She felt the steady pressure of his thickness inside of her, the rumbling of the tires and movement of the vehicle creating a strange sensation inside of her. His fingers were long and strong, pinching and molding her breast, then pinching her nipple, then back to kneading.
Her ass throbbed, the fabric of his jeans rubbing against the tender flesh.
His voice tickled her ear. “Cum for me. Cum for me if you can.”
The pinching fingers grew firmer, rougher. The pain in her tits began to grow, and the need to fuck was incredible.
“Don’t you fucking dare to move, slut. Just cum.” She felt the rush in her head, in her clit, the twinkling sensations in her clit and pussy that presaged an orgasm. And just like that she was up, up and over, her cunt clenching and convulsing on his cock.
His hands cupped her tits, so painfully tight as she spasmed, wracked with an intense flood of sensation.
As the bliss faded, he once again pushed her to the floor.
“Clean up on aisle 12,” he said, his grin firmly in place as he gestured to his rigid penis.
Turning, she began lapping him clean of her juice.