I jumped out of my skin when the sharp knock rattled my door. Harlan Castle was here for his weekly visit!
I raced across the living room, but I stopped short. I crossed the last few feet to the front door slowly and in a dignified strut.
I paused just for a second to check my appearance in the full-length mirror behind the door.
I wore the matching bra and panty set, garter belt, and thigh-high stockings that Harlan sent me.
I also wore tall, black heels and the necklace with the O ring that he called a collar of consideration. It showed that I was learning to be a submissive when he wanted me to be one.
I brushed back my hair, took a deep breath, and opened the door.
I stepped back the way he instructed me. I stood a few feet away from the door so he could see that I followed his instructions to the letter and presented myself to him according to his wishes.
A small smile tugged at the corners of his mouth when he scanned down my body to my feet and back up to my face. “Well done, Chelsea. You look very nice.”
“Thank you….” I hesitated. “Sir.”
He really did smile then. “I can see you’ve been practicing.”
I shrugged. “Not really. I don’t have anyone to practice on.”
He stepped into my apartment and shut the door behind him. He turned to face me and his smile evaporated.
My nerves prickled. Now I was alone with him and my heart skipped a beat.
Playing dominant-submissive with Harlan was always exciting…not to say a little intimidating.
Okay, a lot intimidating, but still exciting. These games always ended with pleasure for everyone involved, but he still made me nervous, especially when he looked at me like that.
He glided closer to me and made an even more detailed inspection of my appearance.
I took special care preparing my body for tonight. I wanted everything to be perfect and up to his exacting standards, but he only nodded approvingly. “You look stunning in that. I think I’ll have to send you another one next week.”
I gulped. “Yes….Sir.”
“Good girl.” He crossed the last inches to where I stood and placed his hands on my hips. He leaned in and kissed me. “How do you feel?”
“Sexy…Sir.”
“You are very sexy,” he breathed. “You look good enough to eat.”
A lick of heat went through me. Eat…me?
He eased back and caressed his hands up and down my arms in a warming motion, but his touch only gave me goosebumps. “Turn around and let me get a good look at you.”
I turned my back to him. I didn’t know what he needed to see that he couldn’t already, but as soon as I got in that position, he stopped me.
He pressed my shoulders to keep me there with my back to him. His hands glided down my sides to my ass. He cupped my butt cheeks and the heat from his hands rushed between my thighs.
He trailed one fingertip down my leg to the bare skin above my stockings. He fingered under my garter and up to my panties. I gasped as a rush of desire lit my pussy on fire. Was he going to touch me right now?
“Bend over,” he murmured. “Put your hands on your ankles.”
I gulped again and tipped forward. He steadied my hips as I balanced over my heels and grabbed my ankles.
I arched my back so my ass pointed right in his face. He squatted behind me gliding his hands up and down my legs, between my thighs, and over my hips. “Mmm! You are so fucking hot, baby!”
I panted for breath. I felt hot and ready for him to fuck me, but that was never his way.
He always took his time, especially when it came to what he called my submissive “training”.
He liked to give me orders and watch me carry them out. He liked to exercise his control over everything I did. That was his idea of foreplay…before we actually got to the foreplay.
He finally straightened up still standing behind me. He stood at the perfect height to fuck me. I could barely stand the anticipation waiting to see what he would do.
He stroked up my sides and his hands followed the curves of my waist, up my ribs, and down to my hips.
“Beautiful,” he breathed. “Absolutely picture perfect. How do you feel bending over for me like that?”
I had to think about it. I didn’t want to repeat myself by saying I felt sexy. That seemed beside the point right now. “I feel…..” I trailed off. I couldn’t think of anything to say.
Harlan chuckled under his breath so I guess my not answering didn’t offend him. “Stand up, baby.”
I straightened up and he turned me the rest of the way to face him. He kissed me again.
His eyes looked even sharper and more hawkish than usual. His eyes sparkled with that wicked commanding fire that he got when he felt really dominant.
He rubbed my arms again and then my shoulders. His hands felt warm and strong and powerful. He brought them to my neck and then down my bare chest.
He rested one scorching palm against my sternum right above my breasts. That feeling crushed me with the certainty that I was sinking into a deep state of submission to anything he wanted.
“Would you like to show me what a good submissive you are, Chelsea?”
I nodded and then remembered. “Yes, Sir.”
He took my hand and led me into the living room. He guided me to the recliner.
A mischievous smirk curled his lips while he stripped off his jacket and laid it aside. He undressed right in front of me until he stood stark naked before me.
His chiseled body radiated power and masculinity. He could own a room even when he wasn’t wearing anything.
He kissed me one more time and then sat down in the recliner. He kicked it back until he lay almost parallel to the floor. He shot me one more determined look and then shut his eyes. “Worship my body.”
I blinked down at him. “What?”
He pretended not to hear my lapse in protocol. He told me to address him as Sir when we acted as dominant and submissive at my place. He said I could get severely punished if I didn’t, but he didn’t even open his eyes. “I said…worship my body.”
“Umm……” I floundered to understand what he meant. Worship his body? What did that mean?
He didn’t open his eyes. He rested his hands on the recliners’ arms. His whole body relaxed.
What was I supposed to do to worship his body? I adored his body…mostly for the pleasure it gave me during sex. I also admired how dedicated he was to taking care of himself….but worship it?
How was I supposed to do that when he was lying in a recliner?
I thought fast. How could I show him how I felt about his body? How did I feel about his body? I wasn’t even sure. I didn’t know enough about this whole submissive business to know where to begin.
I ran through a few impossible scenarios like rubbing lotion into his whole body or washing his hair. I discarded them outright. I had to think about the recliner’s leather upholstery.
I finally decided on some gentle stroking. That always felt good when he did it to me and that would give me time to decide what to do next.
I walked around the recliner and positioned myself at his head. I placed my hands down on either side of his chest and stroked downward to his stomach. I kept my touch light and gentle the way he did. That always felt good.
I did his chest a few times and then migrated up to his neck and head. When I came to his neck and shoulders, something switched in my mind and I started to rub harder.
I ended up massaging his neck and the back of his head. He groaned in pleasure so I must have been doing something right.
I continued on to his shoulders and massaged them, too. I started to work down his arms and swiveled to the side again when the same switch flipped in my brain. I didn’t want to give him a full-body massage. That wasn’t body worship to me.
I knelt down by the recliner and stroked his chest and stomach again.
Now that I could see his face from the front, I realized that I was worshiping his body.
My feelings plunged into a deep submissive mindset. I only felt that a few times, but this was so much more powerful than anything I experienced before.
I glided my hands up and down his chest, threaded my fingertips into his chest hair, and savored the deep feeling of adoration and worship of his masculinity.
I worshiped the masculine that he represented. He was the divine male and I was the soft, receptive female counterpart to his strength and determination.
My hands crept lower to his hips. I dragged my fingertips down his thighs and up. His cock stirred in its bed of hair. It started to swell.
I circled his stomach, and when I made my way back to his chest, I took a chance and teased his nipples. His cock stood straight up and the veins started to pulsate with hot blood. I must be doing it right.
I played with his nipples for a while, but that wasn’t enough, either. This business of worship had to end with him receiving his pleasure. That was my function as his submissive—to please him—wasn’t it?
I leaned in and took one of his nipples in my mouth. I sucked it and licked it trying to excite him, but once I did that, I knew I couldn’t stop.
I dragged my mouth, tongue, and face over his chest and stomach. Every inch of his body seemed so divine and immaculately beautiful. I had to worship it and stimulate it and excite it as much as it excited me.
My pussy ached with desire. My being vibrated with so much burning hunger for him, but not necessarily for sex. I wanted to keep worshiping at the altar of his body.
I migrated down his stomach, but I didn’t take his cock with my mouth. That seemed to be going too far.
I gave his thighs and stomach big, wet, hot kisses with my whole mouth. I made my way back up to his stomach, but when I kissed the sensitive skin above his hip, his cock spasmed and bumped my cheek.
I took the signal and my fingers closed around it. I straightened up and feasted my eyes on his face as I started stroking him.
His body spread before me like a king for me to worship. He was like a god and I was his fervent servant worshiping at the altar of cock. Everything I could do to it and with it would give him pleasure….as it should be.
I used both hands to stroke the skin all the way down to the base and over the taut head. He lay still, but his finger flexed on the chair arms and his knuckles went white.
I worked it just a little harder and a little faster. Could I make him cum right here on the recliner? Did he want me to? Was that his idea of worship—getting him off?
I quickened my pace just a little more and his chest strained. His stomach tightened into a washboard of muscle. I prepared to take it in my mouth and suck him when he suddenly opened his eyes and sat up.
He grabbed my wrist and pulled my hands away. I couldn’t think what I did wrong, but he didn’t say anything.
He swung his legs to either side of the chair and got to his feet. He stepped off the recliner and stood before me without a trace of a smile.
His eyes flashed even more dangerously. He dipped his eyes once toward the floor. “On your knees.”
I bent my legs and lowered myself to the floor in as dignified a way as I could. I knelt before him and looked down at the floor the way he trained me to, but he cupped my chin and pulled my head up to face him.
He grazed his thumb down my cheek and his eyes drilled into my soul. “Who do you serve as your dominant?”
My heart choked looking up at him like this. “You, Sir.”
“Good girl.”
He dropped his hand and straightened up. “Worship me.”
I gulped. He could only mean one thing with his rock hard cock pointing at my mouth.
I snuck forward and touched my tongue to it. It really seemed like something holy that I could only hope to serve the way it deserved.
It represented something sent from heaven to give pleasure. Now it was my turn to shower it with as much love and adoration as possible. I had to pleasure it with all my heart to show my gratitude for the pleasure it gave. That only seemed right…right?
I looped my tongue around its raging shaft. My heart ached with so much worshipful adoration that I almost had an orgasm right there.
I opened my mouth wide and let its long, stiff length glide along my tongue to my deepest throat.
Harlan stared down at me from above. His eyes held me in an awed trance as I bathed his steaming hot cock with my saliva.
I coiled my tongue around it and drew back to the rigid tip. I sucked it and tasted the delectable tang of his cum. I wanted it all in my mouth. I wanted to take it all—all of him.
I stroked deeper and worked my tongue along the underside of his shaft. I inhaled it all the way into my throat and went at it with all my might.
I sucked and slobbered and worked it with my hand. I could only hope to suck him well enough to make him cum. That would be the true mark of success.
He glared down at me from on high. He watched me suck his cock in abject submission, but it didn’t feel degrading or humiliating at all.
I felt vulnerable and emotionally sensitive to him at that moment, but in some strange way, worshiping him felt like I might be elevating myself into something like a spiritual heaven on earth.
I felt cleansed, healed, and transformed into something so much better than I was before. I felt incredibly humbled as though I was in the presence of someone truly divine.
He was just a man, but maybe every man was as important and special and divine as he was. Maybe everyone was, including me.
Right now, his cock, his blessed masculinity was all mine to worship, mine to serve, mine to suck as much as I wanted to.
I cupped his balls and rolled the skin in my fingers. I sucked him all the way into my throat and his thickness cut off my breath. I massaged his shaft with my throat muscles and reveled in the throbbing hardness of his shaft.
I gazed up into his eyes hoping he could see how much I wanted him, how much I adored him at this moment.
He raised his hand and caressed my cheek and my heart cracked with emotion.
A surge of love and desire ripped my heart in half, but just then, he pushed me back.
He drew his cock out of my mouth and saliva ran down my chin. It made me so fucking hot that I felt like I might cum kneeling on the floor at his feet.
He turned back to the recliner and sat down. He swung his legs onto the footrest and leaned back. His cock pointed up toward the ceiling. “Come here, baby.”
I rose to my feet and approached him. He unfastened my garters, hooked his thumbs in my panties, and tugged them down. He held them apart for me to step out of, and when he laid them aside and I stood up again, he refastened my garters for me.
He took hold of my hips and steered me down onto the recliner. He spread my legs to straddle my knees over his shaft.
My pulse quickened when I realized what he was going to do. He angled his cock between my legs and I collapsed onto him in grateful release.
I sobbed and swayed in the delicious bliss of feeling him filling me to bursting. He rocked on the recliner and his cock drove me to the stars. My body felt so complete, so fulfilled, now that I could finally worship him with my whole self.
My body became a temple for him to reach his full pleasure, and for that, I must be perfect. My pleasure was perfect and holy, too.
He gripped my hips with his powerful fingers and shoved me back and forth on his wicked spike. He stabbed into my core and wrung the screams of bliss from my throat.
I arched back and let my body take over as one crashing wave of orgasmic fulfillment took me over. If he was divine, then he found his manifestation in me. My body was his and my climaxes were his.
