He knocked on the door in that peremptory way that she adored. In that series of hard, firm knocks, she felt his unspoken command…to her it said, I’m here, slut, open the fucking door.
She’d been running a bit behind, and had been in the bathroom, struggling to attach the last frigging garter to her hose. She’d wriggled and twisted and finally got that last damn one on. How the hell women did that every day back in the ’40’s was an amazement to her. She straightened her corset, adjusted her boobage, and at his knock, did a fast check in the mirror to make sure her lipstick was on correctly.
She felt the “exercise” balls inside her pussy move with her. He’d told her to insert them first thing. It had been tricky, but she’d gotten it done. They made her horny…then again she was always horny!
Turning, she tripped on the bathroom rug and slid a few feet before catching herself on the door jamb. Geezuz! Holding onto the frame for a minute, she heard his impatient knocking on the door, again. Uh oh. He did so very much hate waiting.
Click clak, her heels tapped across the floor. The right one was clacking more than clicking. Looking down, she saw the strap had snapped, likely when she’d done the half-gainer across the bathroom floor. She reached the door, whipping it open just in time for him to rap her forehead.
He laughed. He didn’t apologize, as she rubbed her head and scowled.
“That’ll teach you to be more prompt, slut,” was all he said as he moved past her. She shut the door, leaning against it for a moment. Bastard! He had already moved down the hall to her bedroom.
“Did something explode in here?” he asked, looking around her room.
“Um. No. I just..had trouble deciding what to wear.” Quickly she scooped up discarded hose, two corsets, a chemise, and stuffed them into her closet. She shook off the broken shoe, but before she could reach for a new pair, he grabbed her from behind.
“I like this one. Like the posture, too.” His hands caressed her ass as she hung there, bent over, one foot flat on the ground, the other in a 5 inch stiletto.
“Sir…” she protested.
“Stay right there, slut.” His tone carried just a hint of warning. A ‘move at your peril’ tone. She heard him rummage in the black bag he’d thrown onto the bed. Oh my. She both hated and loved that bag.
He returned, stroking down the ribbon of the back garter.
“Liking the way this looks, stretched over your ass like this.” There was a sharp *smack* and she yelped. His hand. He’d slapped her with his hand.
“Hey! Ouch!” Rearing up, she’d turned, just as he snapped the short flail on her back. One tendril whipped up, catching the corner of her eye. The absolute shock of it made them both freeze for a moment, then she dissolved into a fit of giggles. She could only think of “You’ll put your eye out kid” from A Christmas Story. She collapsed onto her knees, then just lay on the floor guffawing. For a moment, he stood there, looking at her.
Between guffaws, she managed to spit out the line.
“You’ll put….” laugh, laugh laugh…
“…your eye…” guffaw, moan
“KID,” they spoke in unison, as they both laughed. The moment of hilarity was cathartic, and a nice transition from her shaky start. He checked her eye, which was fine, wiping away her laughter tears with one hand, while pinching her left nipple with his other. The sharp tug of pain shut off her giggles like the snap of a switch.
He smiled, pinching harder.
She yelped as he tugged her upward. Quickly she moved, forgetting the missing shoe, and canting suddenly to the leeward, she thought he would pull her nipple off.
“OW” she screeched.
“Slut! For fucks sake, move!” He was impatient now, never a good thing. He grabbed the full meat of her breast, and hauled her upwards, then shoved her back onto the bed.
With a gasp, she felt the balls in her pussy shift and press against her g-spot.
“Sir!” Was all she could manage before the pressure became unbearable. Lifting her legs, his fingers parted her folds even as her belly clenched and her orgasm cascaded through her.
“You little slut!” He laughed. What a relief, he was delighted and not mad at her for cumming. Then again it had been out of her control. His palm caressed the wetness, the heel of his hand rubbing roughly across her clit as he cupped her. A finger probed into her clenching hole, and she whimpered as another orgasm grew fast on the heels of the first.
“Cum, slut…cum hard for me..” His eyes drank in the view of her madly convulsing pussy, as she twitched and moaned again. Sliding her legs over his shoulders, his hand moved away, quickly replaced by his mouth. She knew how much he enjoyed eating her, and in seconds she felt his tongue caressing her, delving into each valley, sucking each plump lip into his mouth. He sucked, he lapped, he bit, his finger pushing those fucking Ben-wa balls around her cunt.
She lost count of the orgasms he pressed her through. She lost consciousness twice. And still his mouth attacked her. It was a different type of torture, but it was torture. Pleasure, as a weapon. She moaned as a finger pressed into her ass, sawing in and out, and gave into the indescribable pleasure again.
She roused to find him peering down at her. He was laying against her side, fingering her nipples.
“Welcome back,” he greeted her.
She felt full. Exhausted. Her mouth was dry as the Sahara, but her pussy was drenched.
“I really wanted to fuck you when you were out there,” he waved his hands towards the ceiling. “In subspace. But we have a problem slut.”
Blinking, she looked up at him, confused. Why was there a problem with him fucking her? He could do anything to her just now, with zero resistance. She was wrung out on sex, high on the endorphins cruising through her body.
“The balls, slut.”
She shook her head trying to clear the last dregs of orgasm-sloth from her brain.
“You told me to insert the balls, Sir,” She spoke slowly and carefully, like a drunk trying to not slur in front of the cops.
“Right. But the string, slut. It needs to hang out of your cunt so that I can remove them when I want to fuck you.”