Time (2)

The girls voices droned on and on, faint annoying buzzes in the background. Twirling the olive in her martini, her body was here, but her mind and pussy were back in the garage, replaying the scene where he was standing there peeing, cock in hand and…

“Sarah!” A hard poke in her shoulder jostled her out of the moment. Pasting a quick smile on her face, she tried to recall what, exactly, the girls had been giggling about.

“Ashley.” She replied with a poke back at the blonde on her left.

“Can you believe that Ringer is retiring?”

“Actually–”

“They say his replacement will be announced tomorrow,” Ashley walked over Sarah’s comment, per usual. Well that was fine. She could stun them all into silence by naming Ringer’s replacement now, but why not wait and hold that close to her vest for a while longer.

“Aaaand,” Miranda took up the tale, her dark eyes flashing around the table, holding everyone in suspense. Before she could continue, the waiters returned with the horderves, laying platters around the table. It was the perfect opportunity to break away.

“I’m sorry ladies,.” She pushed her chair from the table, rising with a look of regret.  “I have to run. I’m borrowing someone’s car and have promised to get it back …”  pausing to glance at her watch she was shocked to note that less than an hour had passed since she’d left the garage  “….very soon.”

There was that hot, slick feeling between her legs as she moved around the table hugging her coworkers, saying her goodbyes, the kind of wet heat that only  came from deep arousal. Day-ammmmm. All from watching a man take a piss?

There were a few pouts, a breath full of mixed perfumes, a bevy of air kisses, and then she was away. Why ever had she agreed to go out with them in the first place, she wondered, feeling a sudden release of pressure. She chose to ignore the equally sudden sharp slap of lust.

She made her way to his car. It was a slick little machine for a grease monkey. She could tell that he’d customized it. The engine purred as she slid through the gears and raced off into the night. Fuck him! Wouldn’t it just serve him right if she took it home with her for the night?  Or went to a club and picked up some man-whore and fucked him senseless in the backseat. Not that there was much in the way of backseat. Yet the car kept heading homeward, despite her half-formed plans to thwart him. She spent the last moments as she nudged up to the battered garage building pretending that her pulse didn’t bump up a few notches.

“Damn that big cock,” she muttered. She had not been able to get the image of it, the stream of urine gushing out of the thick head, the knowing look in his eyes as he saw her watching him pee.

She pulled into his parking spot, slid out of the hot ride. A shiver danced down her back as the frigid  breeze blew up her skirt;  such a sharp contrast to the intense heat between her legs.

The bell over the door swung wildly as she entered the waiting area. The lights here were dim, as was the garage.

“Hello?”

Shedding her coat, she strode into the garage, but didn’t see him. It would be too much to hope that he’d be taking another piss, she imagined, but she opened the door anyway. It was empty, but before she could move, arms came around her from behind. She caught an image of his face in the mirror before he tugged her away.

“Look who came back.”

She would have replied but his hand around her throat made it difficult. His other hand was cupped under her right tit, as if weighing it. Like the hand around her throat, it kept clenching, releasing.

“I figured you’d wait until tomorrow to return my ride, and you know,  I’da really been pissed. But now you have me all kinds of happy that you came back.”

The hands clenched harder this time, and her head fell back against his shoulder, seeking air. Her breast ached where his fingers dug into the soft skin, yet she could feel her nipple pressing into his palm. There’d be grease marks on her blouse, she was sure.

He bit her earlobe.

“All kinds of happy,” he whispered. “Say no, and this stops now.”

He paused but her mouth stayed shut. For better or worse she had to see, to feel that cock.

“Figured you for a chicken-shit coward. Guess I was wrong again. Let’s see if I can shake up that confidence a wee bit, eh?”

Both hands cupped her tits now, and they weren’t being gentle as they mauled at her. It took him seconds to undo the buttons, though she had pegged him for a rip-it-apart kind of guy. Her bra was tugged up, her tits fell free. His voice hummed against her neck as his fingers tortured her nipples, twisting, tugging, pinching.  The crotch of her panties went from damp to soaked.

Releasing her, ordering her to “stay put” he moved across the garage. She saw the length of chain he stalked toward her. A lightning-quick slap on her right tit made her squeal.

“Hands behind your back.” His voice was a growl, not to be argued with.  There was a tug, the icy touch of metal around her wrists, moving up her arms. A snick and tug informed her that he’d locked her in the chains.

She was helplessly aroused. Standing, tits thrust forward by the tight binding of her arms, she was both vulnerable and brazen. He stepped to her front. Pinching both nipples, she had to rise to her toes as he lifted her tits high. Her breath came in fast spurts, a combination of fear and fascination. Never had she been treated this way. Never had she been this wet, felt this intense need. Heat burned in her clit, wetness leaked from her pussy. Around and around her he moved, continuing his torture of her naked breasts. She felt the heat in them, the glow from the constant rain of blows. And then he was against her, face to face, his mouth crushing hers, his tongue sweeping through her mouth, as his palm raced up her thigh and cupped her mound.

Fingers slid up and over the sodden fabric, drawing a line from front to back, deepening the crease until her panties were drawn tight into her slit.

“You’re a fucking wanton slut, you are. Tell me.”

His hand fisted in her hair and shook her head. Eyes the color of graphite burned into hers. Her lips stayed shut, refusing this final capitulation.

“Tell me,” he ordered, refusing to break his gaze from hers.

Heart thudding hard in her chest, she met his gaze with her own haughty look, despite her naked tits, despite the burning wetness of her cunt.

His slap came hard against her cheek, then a second, a third.

She shook as the orgasm claimed her.

About vanillamom

For 8 years--(EIGHT?!) nilla and M have been a D/s couple. I'm the "small s" side of that designation, as he often reminds me. I'm silly and prone to giggling at inopportune times. He's a wicked Sadist, who feeds me my drug of choice--pain. My brain is always spinning dirty and dark little fantasies, which I sometimes share with the world. Welcome to the nilla-verse. It's wet and slippery here...with a dragon or two lurking.
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10 Responses to Time (2)

  1. This is better then morning coffee…Damn!

  2. Kayla Lords says:

    Holy fucking hell. I’ll tell him because I guess I am, too!

  3. biglove1963 says:

    nice and hot, ‘Nilla. Goes well with my morning coffee on a cold day here in the heartland.

    Mick

  4. Pingback: Time (3)” | Vanillamom's Blog

  5. Wordwytch says:

    Oh! Oh! On to the next chapter!!!

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