That’s what this is. Pure fantasy, to titillate and amuse. Not to condone true rape, nor true violence. These works are works of fantasy and should never be taken as consent to force yourself upon a stranger, unless you’ve met, crafted an agreement of consensual non-consent, and have a safeword, and a safecall on standby.
The doorbell rang. And again. And again. Hauling ass from the shower, he held the towel tight to cover himself as he cracked open the door.
“I know what you like.”
The young girl, no more than 25, he figured, looked at him with her head tilted and a firm smile on beautifully shaped lips. Her eyes were blue, bright as a September sky, and stared straight into his without shyness. Her long straight hair fell well below her shoulders, but the rest of her was shrouded in darkness and swathed in a dark coat.
“What? I think you have the wrong house little girl.”
She stepped up to the doorstep, and placed her hand on his wet, bare chest, then had the temerity to push past him and into the house.
“Hey!” He was shocked and discomfited to have her just stroll in like she owned the place.
“This isn’t your house…you need to leave.”
She looked over her shoulder at him, her smile almost feral. Maybe she was some kind of thief. He peered out the door but saw no other people.
“Who are you? What the hell are you doing in my house?” His words seemed to bounce off her back.
“Come here,” she said, and strolled to the kitchen.
“Sit,” she directed him to a chair. The only light in the room came from the nightlight of the oven range.
“Mark, you don’t know me, but I know you, and I know what you like. You see, my mother cleans here for your wife. A few weeks ago I came to help her out. I was bored, and had some time and she wasn’t feeling well. I did the upstairs while she was down here, cleaning up the mess she told me you always made when you cook.”
She shook her head.
“You really take advantage of her, you know. Making such a mess then walking away from it? That’s little kid stuff. But we’ll talk about that later.”
He opened his mouth to speak but she held up her hand, mimed shutting her fingers, and he fell silent.
“I found the toys under the bedside table in the box. I thought it was funny that you were kinky, seeing as I was too. I didn’t quite understand the situation fully until I dusted your wife’s nightstand and found your cock cage. That’s when I realized that you and I were on opposite sides of the slash. I am most definitely not a submissive, and you, dear boy, are.”
She smiled again, one that did not speak of humor.
“There’s going to be some changes around here. I know that your wife is away for the week at a conference. And you’ll be mine to enjoy until she returns. While I know she dominates you, I’m not certain that she’s a true dominant, or if she’s just a top because you need one.”
“Drop the towel and come here.”
She pointed to the floor between her feet.
“Look here. I…I’m not going to just take orders from you, little one. You’re half my age-“
A quick flick of her wrist dropped a crop into her hands, slapping it against his chest, making him yelp. She struck him again. His nipple began to swell, the button of it drawing tight.
“Oh, I may be younger than you, but I know what I’m doing, and I’ll beat your nipples bloody if you don’t get your fat ass over here.”
He slid off the stool and stood before her. A sharp tug released the towel, revealing his caged cock.
“It looks like you’re ready to service me,” she said, noting the mangled position of his cock. The crop slapped against the cage, making him wince.
“I think we’re going to have a lot of fun, you and I. And when your wife returns, I think it can only get better. Come along, boi. I hope your tongue is in good shape.”
Turning she strode away, leading him towards the stairs. He moaned as his cock tightened inside the restricting cage.
She was in the bedroom. It was surreal. How the fuck did this even happen in real life? In porn, sure, it was a sexy fantasy, to be molested by a stranger. But in the now? He wasn’t a pussy. He was a serious businessman, by damn. He was going to handle her like he handled…
Thoughts scattered as he stepped into the room. She was unbuckling her coat. Beneath it she wore nothing.
“I’m not one of those Dommes that like to wear corsets and ankle-breaking boots. I like to be comfortable and I’m most comfortable naked. That doesn’t mean that I won’t discipline you when it’s needed. Or when I feel like it. I enjoy giving pain. I enjoy sex. I enjoy being serviced, and watching you want to fuck me.”
She pointed to the massive four-poster.
“Get up on the bed.”
“It’s ma’am or mistress. Take your pick. But if you call me young lady, woman, or girl again I will crop your ass purple.”
He froze. There was a truth to her words, to the tone of them that made him know that she meant every word. He moved to grab her wrist, but she slapped the crop over his wrist then his cheek, drawing welts. His hand reached to his cheek.
“You only touch when I say you can. Try to disarm me again and I will hurt you. Look at you. Your cock is already trying to push its way out of the cage. You’re erect and in pain, and all it takes is a slight amount of pressure…”
She slapped the cock cage hard with the crop, then with her hand. He yelped, leaping back, hand covering his genitals.
“Follow the rules and I won’t have to discipline you, boi,” she said.
Their eyes met, clashed. After a long few breaths, he dropped his, cursing her in his mind even as he felt his spirit thrill to be so completely dominated by the little…Mistress.”
“I don’t even know your name,” he whispered to the floor.
“Heather. That’s ‘Mistress Heather’ to you.”
He nodded. The crop came up, lifting his chin.
“No nodding. You may use your words. Try ‘yes, Mistress Heather’.”
He looked at her nose, too nervous now to meet her eyes.
“Yes Mistress Heather,” he responded.
“Good boy,” she said, stroking her fingers over his nipple. He moaned.
“Where is the cage key? I know you have access to it while she’s away. Fetch it for me.”
He pointed to the bathroom; she pointed with the crop. He returned in seconds. Taking it, she released the lock, and began removing the cage from him. He moaned as his squished shaft stretched out.
“That must be really painful, that nice thick cock all mashed in there like that.”
“Well, don’t get too comfortable…it’ll be back on soon enough.”
Her hand clasped over the tender meat, then roughly began pumping his shaft. He moaned, groaned, begged her to go easy, to no avail. When he spurted, she pointed it at her tits.
“Your next erection is mine. And it will take you much longer to cum now. Clean your nasty goo off of me.”
She settled back on the bed, as his fluid slid down her belly.
“And be very thorough.”
Grabbing his hair she guided him to her left tit, and smiled as he began to lick.
you know it can be a struggle to write..and it builds up and builds up…but just like anything else, it won’t happen all by itself, so sometimes you put on your big girl panties–or in this case, remove them–and just do it. ~n~
Her fingers rubbed madly at her cunt as she watched the scene unfolding in front of her. He was fucking her, fists in her hair, her tits swinging wildly as he pounded her from behind.
“Goddammm!” she moaned, feeling the wave growing stronger, rolling to that final peak. He was a vicious beast ramming himself into the woman who’s face was pressed hard against the window of the building across the wide street and 5 floor below where Jayne stood, rubbing.
“every *gasp* fucking *gaspmoan* niiiiiIIIIIeeeeeettttt…ohhhgawddddddd…”
Her hips bucked forward, humping her fist as her orgasm swelled, consuming her.
With a shiver, she fell to her knees, head pressed against the thick carpet. This was the 12th night that she’d been watching Him. Every night a different woman, making him, in her opinion, a professional Dom.
“Or a man-slut,” she murmured, pushing up from the carpet before her leaking cunt stained it. Knees shuddering, she padded to the shower.
“Mr. Kinsey is here to see you, Ms. Jamison.”
“Send him in, then go home, Gwen.”
With a grateful smile, her secretary, slipped back out. She heard Gwen’s voice guiding Kinsey to the door, the snap of her desk lamp, and the smooth roll of her desk drawer as she prepared to leave.
Thankfully he was the last interview of the day, then she could go home. This tiresome day had gone on and on. Now the sunset had faded and the lights of the city winked at her back through the wide windows lining the wall behind her. She kept the light on her desk turned low. When he stepped into the room, she was glad that the light wasn’t stronger.
It was him.
“Ms. Jamison,” he proffered his hand. “A pleasure to meet you, at last.”
She took his hand, gave a firm handshake. Did his thumb caress the back of her hand or was she just imagining it?
Rising from her desk, she invited him towards the sitting area, choosing the seat that kept her face in shadow. She felt flushed, yet a rush of adrenaline made it difficult to appear relaxed. He spoke, but she was only paying scant attention. His lips moved, just as they did when he spoke to his girl of the day. His voice was sensual, no other word would fit. The tones, timbre, pitch all husky, sexy, deep. When his lips stopped moving, it took a moment to register.
“Oh..uh..” she stumbled, embarrassed to be caught being inattentive.
“I’m sorry, am I here at a bad time? I know it’s quite late. I’m afraid that I pressured your secretary for an opportunity…”
She mentally shook herself.
“No…it’s…just a long day, as they all are lately.” She smiled briefly. “I do apologize.”
He rose, putting her on alert.
“Please, allow me?”
He was behind her, fingers resting lightly on her shoulders.
“Tension is the real killer these days. A quick light massage can help with that.”
The fingers dug deeper, making her moan.
“See?” His voice was a low and husky whisper. “You’re so tensed up. A little bit of work here and you’ll feel much better. This is why you should consider hiring me…an on-site massage therapist would be of great benefit to you, and the company.”
As his fingers wound around her shoulders, back up to her neck, she felt herself melting.
“I…” she cleared her throat as his fingers did magical things to her neck. “I can definitely see the advantages, Mr. Kinsey.”
She wanted to moan when his fingers left her body. She tried to stop the rise of her nipples as he moved back to his chair, but his touch had stimulated even more than it had relaxed.
“If you’re willing, we can go a bit further. I think you need some real work on your back,” he said.
Was there a challenge in his eyes?
“Really?” she said, her voice cool.
He rose again, stepped forward, took her wrist. A quick tug pulled her to her feet. He gestured to the window.
“The whole city is out there. Look at them all, racing there and back.”
He pressed her palms to the window, her forehead to the cool glass. His fingers ran up and down her spine, a firm push that she felt to her toes. He tugged her blouse free from her skirt, then slid his hands up, gliding over her skin. Reaching her bra strap, he released it, murmuring.
“So much better, yes?”
She made a soft sound of acquiescence.
When he unzipped her skirt, cupped her ass, she moaned. One wide palm slid up her back again, slid under her to cup her tit, and pinch her nipple firmly. His other grabbed her hair, pulling her head back.
“I saw you watching,” he murmured. “I wonder who will be watching you?”
We’re working through it. There have been downs and some ups. I gave him very blunt and hard words. He gave me silence.
That infuriates me, btw. How the hell can you fix anything with silence? At this point in our relationship..NINE years…we should be well and truly over this. And yes, I gave HIM silence for a week, but only because he was NOT listening to what I was saying, and kept trying to be “funny” about something that was not at all humorous.
We’re still talking. Not much chance to see one another until early next year. My schedule gets super jammed around the holidays–as i’m sure most of you can relate to. The man is doing some stuff. It just can’t work.
He’s still pissed at me, but not like he’s going to fly off the handle kind of mad? He never does anything out of anger. (Which bothers me some, I admit. Because the opposite of any reaction seems like apathy to me, and that’s the death knell in any relationship, isn’t it?)
And really, I hope it works out for us. I admit to not being very submissive lately. I was very nearly Dommy when I told him off about things he was saying that were annoying because they were teenage boy humor, and had nothing to do with Dominance or submission or fucking or anything relationship building.
I’ve got zero patience for stupid shit, and that’s a bald fact.
I’m NOT looking for another dom. I just … I’m losing my feelings of submission because I’m too damn busy to even care these days. I know. I kind of gasped too, when I thought it. Am I growing out of it? Was submission a phase? Am I merely a painslut, getting off on being hurt, but not necessarily feeling all subby about it?
I don’t know. I haven’t had much occasion to offer submission, and I guess I’m not willing to fully do that. He’s not the kind of dom who wants me on my knees in servitude. I am not the kind of sub (anymore) that craves giving that.
Just fuck me, will ya?
Just hit me, will ya?
Make me cry. Make me cum. Make me crave more of it. More pain. More sensation overload. Mix the pain with the pleasure and make the pleasure pain. I need that. I really need it. Maybe when that well is full once more, instead of being dry as dust, maybe then I’ll start to feel submissive. Maybe I won’t.
But by damn, I want to feel…something.