MissusK's Musings

**Date with Depravity is an erotic tale with scenarios of sexual power-exchange through dubious consent. Enjoy at your own risk*

 

The directions Shannon — my best friend — sent match the address, although the building looks more like an abandoned warehouse than a location for a first date. I don’t know why I let her talk me into this. It’s not like she’ll find someone to match me perfectly, like she claims. She doesn’t even know me. Not really. No one does.

I pull on the iron ornate door, surprised by how easily it swings outward, and am greeted by a heady beat and a smiling hostess with a menu balanced on one hand.

“Good evening. Welcome to Eden. Do you have a reservation?” she asks cheerily, pearly white teeth peeking out.

“Oh, I’m meeting a man here.” When the hostess smile widens, I continue, “It’s a blind date. And all I know is his first name is Michael.”

The hostess’ smile grows somehow larger before she says, “Oh, yes. He is already here. Follow me.”

The restaurant is elegant and fresh, filled with live greenery and golden columns, busts of plaster seated on top. Spotlights point toward the vaulted ceiling, providing ample light, but leaving each table in shadow, like they are each their own private space. The decor fits the name Eden to a ‘T’. I am enthralled, trying to take it all in when the hostess stops at a secluded section, opening a curtain before confirming, “Through here.”

Behind the drape, the room is dim, but still bright enough to make out the seductive atmosphere. Red walls, aglow seemingly from within, cascade like flowing liquid. A golden chandelier lights the remainder of the space, the tiny bulbs encased inside flickering, as if harboring real flames.

Michael sits at a single small table, his back to me, ankle crossed over one knee. He appears relaxed, at ease, perfectly comfortable with himself. As I near, he unfolds from his seated position, standing erect, and though lean, I can sense the power beneath his perfectly cut suit. He fills the room, and yet the ceiling towers above him. I am surrounded by him, and yet we are a room apart.

Shannon had said Michael, was an accountant. I’d expected someone… I don’t know. Softer? Less imposing, certainly.

He turns and I stop mid-stride, unsure if the emotion coursing through me is fear or arousal. Perhaps both. It is not unpleasant. The unfamiliar sensation blankets me comfortably, like a second skin.

Michael is tall, yes. He is strong as well, that much is clear by his wide shoulders and trim waist. Sculpted thighs fill his slacks. But what really tells of Michael’s power is his eyes. Blue, stark and piercing. Like ice orbs tucked inside his sockets, glacial; and yet knowing. As if he is reading the very depths of my soul. I’ve never felt so naked and vulnerable. Or turned on.

My nipples harden, and a heaviness fills my belly. It takes everything in my power not to press my legs together even as I feel my cheeks flush.

“Hello,” Michael’s deep baritone greets me, a slender, manicured hand coming out to accept mine. It’s then I remember to offer it. In two short steps, which cover half the distance of the room, he — tall, handsome, and imposing — is taking my hand in his, lifting it to his mouth, and kissing it with a featherlight touch. My breath stutters, then stalls.

I’m led to the table, Michael’s hand on the small of my back, fingers fanning out over the curve of my ass. The small gesture warms me to my toes. His touch is electric, intoxicating, and I’ve felt nothing like it.

“I’ve already ordered, so that we’ll not be disturbed, and you’ll have my undivided attention. You don’t have any allergies or sensitivities, I hope.” Michael says, as he pulls out my chair.

“No. I’m open for anything.” I reply, sounding way more inviting than I intend, but he can’t possibly know that I’m not talking about the food, can he? The glint in his eyes says maybe he can.

He pours me a glass of wine, then sits across from me.

“Rarely, do I allow my… dates to sit at the table, so this will be a treat for us both.”

I wonder at his statement but decide to keep my thoughts to myself, but must fail miserably because Michael continues,

“Usually, they’d eat on their knees at my feet.”
Openly, I gape at him, even as my panties dampen. I’ve imagined the scene a million time. Kneeling at a man’s feet while he fed me bite by bite. But how did Shannon know? She said Michael was an associate of her husbands, but there’s no way Frank knows about this, surely. The frown marring my perfectly applied face speaks louder than any words.

“If it upsets you not to,” Michael continues, “when the food arrives, I’ll allow it. But only because you look so utterly saddened.” He rakes his eyes over me, stopping at each erogenous zone to assess like he has x-ray vision. I wouldn’t doubt it if he did. His eyes are so penetrating. I feel their caress on each part of me until I’m gripping the arms of my chair in my endeavor not to move under his scrutiny.

“Eager to please, are you?” he asks, his voice dropping an octave.

The words are new to my ears, but not my mind. I’ve imagined words such as these. They've haunted my dreams. I’m unsure how Shannon and Frank knew, as I’ve never mentioned anything about my desires to anyone, ever. But I’m certainly glad I said yes to one date.

The reply is slipping from my lips before I’ve thought about it. “Yes, Sir.” The words taste foreign but feel right. Perfect.

Michael’s mouth stretches into a smile as my cheeks flush.

“I’ll certainly give you the opportunity to do so after dinner. And here it is.”

We’re quickly served, then left alone when Michael tells the server, “That will be all.” I’m happy to note that his voice has the same effect on others as it does me when she blushes profusely before tottering away.

“Your dress is beautiful. It looks fabulous on you. But you should take it off.” Michael says the moment the server exits. Once again, I’m at a loss for words. My mouth ajar. A red flag is waving inside the back of my head. A voice is reminding me there’s only a thin swath of fabric separating us from the main dining room, but my hands are already moving for the zipper at my side. Before I know it, I’ve stood and draped the crimson fabric over the back of my chair.

“Hmmm. Let me look at you.” Michael says, crooking his finger in a come-hither. When I’m a few steps away, he makes a gesture indicating I should spin. So, I do, like a marionette.

“Very nice. Now, bend over before you turn around and crawl to me.” The words are crude, and demeaning, and… hot. I bend at the waist, fearing what he’ll find; the satin of my G-string almost soaked through. He confirms it with a grunt.

When I turn, Michael’s eyes are strained on me. He likes what he sees, and I like that he does. I draw power from his fiery gaze and hooded lids. It makes me brave, uninhibited, wanton.

I crawl until I’m between his parted legs, anticipation racing through me. I’ve been in the room for ten minutes, and already I know that whatever this man demands of me, I will do. It’s terrifying and thrilling and tastes like freedom from a life half lived.

Michael traces my bottom lip with his thumb, smearing the carefully applied lipstick I’d chosen for this date. “Your lips are very pretty. Made for all means of degrading things.” He pushes the digit between my teeth, stroking along my tongue, pressing further until my eyes water and my mouth salivates. And I should be embarrassed, but my cunt is flooding just as fast as my mouth.

“Suck.” He whispers, so I wrap my lips around his probing and hollow my cheeks, swiping my tongue along the pad of his thumb for good measure.

“Mmm. Very nice indeed. I know I said you could kneel at my feet while you ate, but instead, up you go. Sit right here.” Michael taps his lap. “Legs on either side of me and keep them spread.”

My heart pounds and my hands get clammy. This is completely different from stripping from my dress, or crawling on the floor. This is intimacy on a whole new level. But I really don’t want to stop. As if Michael can read my mind, he says, “we can end this now,” with a look of indifference, although the straining of his flies says something else.

With care, I drape myself over his lap, sitting gingerly. He tugs me closer, so my center is brushing his erection.

“Much better. Okay, open up.” He slips a fork between my lips, flooding my senses with exquisite flavor. And not only from the food, which is remarkably good.

“What about you, Sir?” I ask, as he feeds me one bite at a time.

“I prefer entertainment with my dinner. Perhaps you can give me some?”

“How would you like me to entertain you, Sir?” I ask, the words sounding as seductive as I mean them to.

“Touch yourself.”

The world spins on its axis, and I hold my breath, eye the curtain. Michael turns my gaze back to his with a grip on my chin.

“No one will enter this area until I say so, I promise you that. You are safe here.” It’s all he needs to say.

Sliding my hand inside the damp fabric, I circle my aching core. Michael offers me another bite, a mousse that melts on my tongue and coats my throat. The addition to my touch is an all-encompassing sensation. Warmth flows through me, as sugary sweetness invades. He feeds me every morsel, reverently, like I am a goddess and I can take no more.

“Okay, my turn. Change position. On the floor. Legs spread. Let me look at you.”

I disengage from his lap with much more grace than I’d hoped for. Michael positions me at his feet, laying me back, one hand still inside my panties.

“You are to continue until I have finished my dinner, and only then may you come. Understood?”

I had felt vulnerable before and laying on the floor under Michael’s observation should make me feel powerless, and I know I should hate it. But something about the approval that lines his face as I lay back and spread my thighs makes me feel powerful. Wanted.

“Yes, Sir.”

Michael doesn’t say another word. He takes his time, cutting and chewing each bite. He sips his wine while he watches my fingers undulate my center. When Michael licks his lips, I groan, wondering what that muscle would feel like, and he smiles knowingly.

“We only have a short time this evening because I have a last-minute engagement, or I would absolutely take a taste. Our first date will have to be shorter than I’d hoped, though, so for now, this is all about you. Are you close? Do you need something more?”

Do I? I don’t know. The sensation of the cold floor at my back, my hand at my center, and the gaze of Michael’s eyes is a potent combination. I’m close, but I fear he is right. It is still not enough.

“What do you need to come? A whisper in your ear? A finger in your cunt?”

The mentioned part clenches greedily and I moan, confirming that is my desire.

“Well, let’s see it, then. Show me how you like to be touched.”

I push the gusset aside, and sink a finger into my heat, but it’s not enough, so I add a second. The squelching of my digits being sucked farther into my depths fills the air and my scent quickly follows. Michaels nostril’s flare.

“Mmm, so pink and tempting. Enchanting. Now come for me.”

And I fall apart. Writhing, teeth clenched, my hips lunge from the floor, thrusting my fingers deeper into my core. My other hand moves rapidly, riding the waves of pleasure until both are saturated in my juices. My chest heaves with the intensity of it all. And I lay there languidly, embraced by the sensation of contentment that has turned my limbs to lead.

I open my eyes to find Michael above me, holding out a hand, a napkin in the other, a smile splitting his face.

“That was wonderful entertainment for my dinner. Thank you. Let’s get you cleaned up and dressed.”

We’re both silent as Michael wipes me gently before covering my most delicate place with care. He pats it like it’s a good pet. I suppose it is. When I’m once more tucked away inside my dress, creases smoothed out, he offers me his arm and walks me to the front door, where a taxi is already waiting.

“You’ve been a wonderful companion and I’m so disappointed I have to go. But I would very much like to see you again. When I have more time.” The perusal of my bare arms tells me what he’d do with that time.

“I’d like that very much, Sir.” I reply, before Michael kisses me lightly on the cheek and opens the taxi door. A tingle spreads through me when he stands on the curb, watching until the car turns out of view.

***

 
I wake up with a sense of fulfillment I’ve never known before. Admitting my desires to at least one person has made me feel lighter, carefree. As I think about our date with a smile that makes my cheeks ache, I wonder how long I should wait before I call him. It’s then I remember I don’t have his number. Frank had set everything up. Shannon can help, though. I reach for my phone, startled when it rings.

“Good morning, Shannon.” I say, a smile in my voice. “I had a really great time.”

“Is that so? Well, Michael called Frank this morning and said you never showed. He waited for an hour.”

“That’s not possible. I was there. With him.”

“Did he look like this?”

A text message comes through, displaying a picture of a man whose name may be Michael, but very much isn’t the Michael I had dinner with. My heart hammers in my chest. This man is balding, and as I suspected, much softer than the man I had met. Dined with. Fucked myself in front of, because that’s the only word to describe it. My head sinks into my hands.

“No, Shannon, he did not look like that! Oh, my god. Who did I have dinner with? And why didn’t I ask for his number?”

***The Promotion is a power-exchange themed erotic tale- enjoy at your own risk...

I’m hanging up the phone when his unique scent surrounds me, caressing my libido and sending tremors of desire to my core. I close my eyes as I breathe him in.

“Are you finished your calls, Jane?” His smooth yet rough voice reverberates behind me, making my breath catch in my throat. Clearing it away, I squeak in reply, “Yes. Mr. Massey.”

“Good. Everything else can wait. Send the calls to voicemail and meet me in the conference room.” The moment he steps away, the air temperature drops, and I suppress a shiver.

Grabbing a pad of paper and my favorite pen, I make my way down the hall. Mr. Massey sits at the head of the table, regal and proud, one hand spread on the oak top next to an open folder. The other holds his chin; pointer finger sliding tantalisingly over his bottom lip. My eyes follow the slight movement, and I shift as my panties dampen.

“Don’t stare Jane. It’s not polite.” He raises his head and looks at me directly, then stands to pull out the chair beside his. “Come, have a seat. I apologize, I forgot to do your three-month review, so we’ll get it out of the way now.” His smile lights up the room, and my knees go weak.

“Does that mean you’re keeping me, Mr. Massey?” I ask playfully, making the innuendo blatantly clear.

He looks me in the eye, “I do hope to,” comes his gruff reply. If he had finished with a sexy smirk, I probably would have jumped him.

I sit as ladylike as possible, there being a river threatening to overflow beneath my skirt. I’m worried I’ll make a squishing sound when my backside connects with the seat.

Mr. Massey pulls sheets of paper out of a pile and lines them up, the tips of his fingers skimming over each as he speed reads. I wonder how they’d feel skimming over my skin, my throat, the curve of my breasts, down my belly to…

“Hello, earth to Jane.” The sharp tone of his voice pulls me out of my revelry.

“Sorry, Mr. Massey. What were you saying?” I ask, shaking my head.

“I said that you’ve been a brilliant assistant. You’re quite good at your job. But I’ve had a new position open up and I was wondering if you’d be interested.”

“A new position? Well, I’ve only just started this one.” I explain, somewhat confused.

“I know. The new position will pay more. It has other benefits too. Think of it as a promotion.”

“I don’t know. I enjoy coming every day. I mean coming here, every day. Besides, if I go elsewhere, I wouldn’t be able to see….” I stop, realizing I’ve almost given myself away.

He lets the moment drag on before he continues for me.

“Me? That’s what you were going to say, isn’t it?”

I shake my head, attempting to deny that I’m attracted to him, that I masturbate at least once a day to visions of his mouth on me. But he simply holds up his hand, halting me. I look down to hide my chagrin.

“I see how you watch me, Jane, and know you were likely caught in fantasy just now. Your breath hitches each time I enter the room. You ogle my ass as I walk by, and I know you’ve masturbated at least once, this week, in the company washroom. I can smell your arousal now.”

I don’t bother trying to deny it, but I refuse to look at him, either. My chin tucks in further before I reply.

“Yes, Mr. Massey. You’re right. About all of it.”

I glimpse at him, prepared for condemnation, but am relieved to find him smiling. He’s breathtaking, and I can’t help but grin back.

“Well, Jane, I’m attracted to you too, even if I do a better job of hiding it. Now that you’ve passed the probationary period, I think you’d be perfect for this… promotion. It’s still an assistant role, of a sort, but more personal in nature. You won’t be in the office, as often, but you will do tasks for me. Some are considered… unorthodox.”

He gives me a pointed look, like he’s trying to help me grasp what he’s saying. My thoughts circle and suddenly it’s as bright as the dawn of day. He wants to pay me for sex, and god knows what else.

My eyes grow into saucers, my mouth puckering like I’ve been sucking a lemon. And then I think about it, and it may not be so bad. It may even be amazing. But he’s willing to hire me for a job he isn’t sure I’ll be good at? That’s not a very smart business move, and very unlike him.

“Let me get this straight?” I say, looking at him, then away when my face flames. “You want me to work, as your… what? Personal ass,” I air quote the word, istant? “And you want to hire me on the spot? Without knowing if we’ll even work,” I air quote that word too. “Well, together? Just like that?” I snap my fingers to drive my point home.

“No, I don’t. I do want us to work together, as you’ve so eloquently said, but the job is more than that. As for knowing whether we work well together,” his arm comes out to indicate the general area of the conference room, “this is our opportunity to find out.”

“Here? Now?” I ask incredulously.

“Yes. It’ll show me whether you can follow directions, and how well you handle pressure.” He states stoically.

“What does fucking, in the conference room, in the middle of a workday, have to do with that?”

“Everything. Now strip.” He replies, deadpan.

And I don’t even think about it. My hands just start unfastening buttons and zippers until I’m standing in nothing but my low heels. I wish I could say I was shy at that moment, but I wasn’t. I stood proud and confidently nude, fully enjoying living out one of my many fantasies. It being with him only made it that much better. So much so that juices were weeping from my cunt and slowly trailing down my leg.

“Hmmm. So far, so good, Jane. Any limits I need to know?”

The question startles me, but somehow calms me, too.

“No knives, needles or bodily fluids beside semen.”

His eyes follow the wet trail down my leg.

I blush before I amend, “And obviously pussy juice is okay too.”

He chuckles, dark and low. “I can stay within those parameters. Condoms?”

“I’m clean, protected and would prefer not.”

“Safeword?”

“Red, yellow, green.” And because it seems so natural, I finish with “Sir.”

His smile at hearing the honorific warms me from the inside out.

“Hop up on the table and lay back.”

I do so without hesitation.

“Close your eyes.”

This takes me a beat longer, but I follow this direction too.

“Now, spread your legs for me. Let me look at you.”

It’s the world’s longest leg spread, but I get there. And I wait. And for the longest time, nothing happens. I only hear my breath and the thundering of my heart in the dark. Then finally, the muted steps of his feet over carpet before his hands settle on my bent knees.

“I don’t need to tell you the seriousness of staying quiet during your interview. Your colleagues might hear. Can you stay quiet, Jane?”

“Yes.” I hiss out as his hands migrate towards my center. He pinches my thigh, and I bite my lip to stifle my cry.

“Good girl.” I can hear the smile in his voice, and my pussy clenches simply from knowing he’s pleased with me.

“Hands above your head, hold the table. Don’t move them.”

I do as I’m bid and the instant I’m in place; he grasps my thighs, squeezing tight before burying his face between them. The first lap of his tongue has me clenching my teeth. The second and I’m pressing my cunt into his mouth in offering.

He laps at me until I’m a whimpering mess, albeit a silent one. Tears are leaking from my eyes, pooling on the table on either side of my head. My hands ache from holding the edge, and my jaw throbs from my firm grip on my voice. Thighs trembling, I’m nearing orgasmic oblivion, when suddenly he stops. I swallow my groan.

“Open your eyes.” I do. “Being silent isn’t a problem during cunninglingus, but what about intercourse? Can you stay quiet while I fuck you senseless?”

He unzips his fly and lets his pants fall as his hard cock topples into his hand. I’m unsure what surprises me more, the size of his erection or the fact he goes commando.

“That will not fit.” I whisper, trepidation lacing my words.

“Oh, it will. You’ll see. But you’re great for my ego.” His smile is equal parts charm and predator.

“Roll over, feet on the floor, but keep your hands on the opposite ledge.”

I do so in record time, but before I’ve gotten my hands back in position, the head of his cock is knocking at my entrance.

“Ready?”

I can only nod in reply.

Pushing into me, slowly at first but faster as I take more of him, he stretches me wonderfully, almost painfully, and I press back until he’s fully seated. He gives me a moment to adjust, then grasps my hips and whispers menacingly in my ear, “Hang on tight.”

That’s all the warning I get before he’s plunging into me at an unprecedented pace. A rhythm of hips slapping ass echoes throughout the small room as he fills me beyond my most vivid imaginings. I bite my tongue until I taste metal, but hold in my blissful cries.

“Touch your cunt, Jane. Keep that pussy wet for me.”

I slide my hand between the table and my sensitive nub, circling it with two fingers at a pace matching his. Within seconds the orgasm he denied me is there and I ask quietly, “May I come?” And then quickly add, “Sir?”

His hand comes down with a smack on my ass, again on the other cheek, and I push onto my tiptoes, accepting more of him. He reaches places no man has ever been, and I hiss in my attempt to restrain my pent-up moans.

“Yes, Jane. Come on my cock!”

He slams into me once, then again, and I fall apart around him, my hips thrusting back onto his rigid member, giving as good as I get, until not able to handle anymore, I slump on the table. He rides me unhurriedly as I come down, then pulls out abruptly.

“On your knees Jane, open your mouth.”

I slide to the floor, grateful for the chance to catch my breath before his cock slides to the back of my throat.

“I’m going to come in your pretty mouth. You are going to swallow it all, yes?”

I nod around his girth.

Grasping me on either side of my head, he pulls out, then pushes back in. On the fifth pump, he stills, emitting a primal roar as the first spurt of semen coats my tongue. Opening my throat, I take it all, then lick the remnants away from his softening shaft as he runs his hand soothingly over my head. I all but melt beneath him before he pulls away, directing me to get dressed while he does the same.

Both seated in our chairs, I ask, “I thought you said we had to be quiet, Sir?”

“No, I said you had to be quiet. The room is soundproofed.”

“Oh. Did I pass my interview?” I ask, momentarily self-conscious.

“The promotion is yours if you want it, Jane. But I need to ask if you’ve ever been a submissive before?”

“Will we do what we just did often, Sir?”

“Yes, and more. Likely daily.”

“Then, where do I sign?” I ask with a smile.

**Room with a VIew is a D/s themed erotic tale depicting themes of sexual voyeurism and exhibitionism. Enjoy at your own risk. 

 

“Strip. Everything,” he said with an accompanying snap as I entered the condo. Removing my stilettos, I did as he asked, then sank to my knees.

“Tonight, we’re going to try something new,” he continued, walking toward me. I noticed the spreader bar in his hand, as well as two sets of cuffs and a vibrating dildo. Interesting.

“Come, follow me.”

I trailed after him into the living area on hands and knees — he cuffed my wrists, then ankles. Once secure, he led me to a window where he helped me step up onto the seating area and attached the spreader bar at my feet.

The blinds were closed, diffusing the outside light, but also shielding me from the outside world, thankfully.

Finished with the bar, he attached my wrists to eyelets in the ceiling. He took an appreciative glance at me, opened to his gaze and nimble fingers, a perfect starfish, spread out before him. I heard the hum of the vibrator before it pressed against my sensitive bundle of nerves. Hearing my breath hitch, he knew he’d found the right spot, and he quickly moved it away.

Slowly and painstakingly, the vibrator was moved in circles, up and down, between my moist folds and back to my button. His teasing was agonizing, not just the slow pace, but also that he didn’t press the right areas. It was enough to keep me aroused, but not enough to get me off.

Keeping the vibrator on my most sensitive spot, he stepped up behind me, palming my breasts and tugging my nipples. He continued his sensual torture until I was moaning, my head thrown back to rest on his shoulder. As if waiting for this sign, he split my sensitive flesh with one hand, the other pressing the vibrator inside until it disappeared from his grasp. He stepped back, letting me feel the absence of his body heat and attention.

“This vibrator is remote controlled. You will keep it inside until I say it can come out. That may be all night or only five minutes. That depends on you. Although I do hope it takes all night.

“The rules are easy. I am going to open the blinds, and you are going to tell me what you see. I want to know what’s happening out there, while we’re so happily occupied in here. If you do a good job, I’ll let you come. If you don’t, the vibrator stays in and we continue until I’m satisfied.

“Also, if the vibrator falls out of your glorious cunt, I will punish you. Got it?”

I thought about everything he had said. It seemed this would be quite easy. I could tell him what I saw, I thought. And just as I finished that thought, the vibrations increased, the tiny motor stroking my insides. I took a deep breath, my response sounding as shaky as I suddenly felt.

“Yes, Sir.”

He flicked a switch on the wall, and the blinds opened. At first, I could only see a sliver of the world outside, but as the gap increased, more was revealed. The condo faced an extensive park, but there was another building next door. If anyone was to look out their window, they would easily see me, restrained for his use, my body on display. I felt a fresh surge of arousal, emphasized by a release of moisture that coated my thighs.

“Okay, what’s out there?”

“Sir, I see another building across the way. All the windows coverings are closed, the sun setting on them. On the ground…” the vibrations increased, the hum now audible, even through my flesh. My breath hitched at the added stimulation, and I let out a groan that turned into a moan.

“No coming,” he reminded me with a tsk. “Continue.”

“On the ground is a man walking his dog. It looks to be a schnauzer. Ohhhhhhh! Across the street from him is a lady walking in heels. She must not have a lot of practice, Sir, as she keeps having to readjust her pace. Behind her…mmmmmmmm.” My eyes closed. The vibrations were a constant reminder now. The longer the dildo trembled inside me, the more intense it became.

I was worried I was going to come, so I pushed my internal muscles out, just a bit, but then stopped as I felt the vibrator escaping my cunt’s grasp. Clenching my insides, I tried to pull it back in, but it kept moving with the pull of gravity. In an attempt to ignore it, I continued looking out the window, my telling coming faster with each word.

“The woman, behind her is a teen on a bike. He looks like he’s listening to music of some sort, his head keeps bouncing.”

The end of the vibrator was outside of me now. I could tell by the change in the hum that it was no longer completely buried. He noticed too, and turned the vibrations up once more. A long hiss escaped from between my lips.

“If that vibrator falls out, the next one won’t be as fun.” The threat had the desired effect. My pussy clenched, aching to be filled, and the vibrator slipped from my pussy’s feeble grasp, making a loud thud as it collided with the floor.

Without a word, he pressed a bigger toy to my entrance. Twice the size of the last one, it was harder to get in, but that hopefully meant it was also harder to fall out. He worked it inside me, not helping with my arousal at all. I could hear my juices coating the dildo as he pummeled it into me. Once finally seated where he wanted it, he stepped back.

“The next one is twice the size of this one. As much as I would like to stuff it inside you and watch you beg me to let you come, I don’t think you can take it, so be a good girl and keep this one in. Yes?”

“Yes, Sir,” I said shamefully, before squaring my shoulders. “Across the way, a man is standing in his window. His hands are on the glass. His shirt is off. I think he sees me, Sir.”

“What makes you think that?”

“His hand has just sunk inside his pants and he’s looking right at me. I think he’s masturbating. Oh, my god!” I chuckled.

“Let’s give him something to get off to then, shall we?”

Before I could reply, he was behind me, his hand pulling the vibrator out to push it back in. The thickness of this toy was so intense, but so good, filling all the right places and rubbing that sweet spot deep inside that’s so hard to find.

“Keep your eyes on him. I want to know what he’s doing. Is he enjoying the show?” He asks me, before thrusting the dildo deeper and pulling it out once more.

“Yes, Sir, he’s pushed his pants down and spread his legs. His strokes are long, and I can see the tension building on his face. His hand is moving faster with each stroke. Ohhhhhh.”

Sir was moving the toy in and out of me with haste. The sounds of it entering me echoed off the walls, and I let out a loud moan. The sight of this stranger getting off — to me being bound and fucked with a dildo — was a powerful aphrodisiac, too powerful.

“Do you enjoy watching him watch you? Do you like knowing that he’s stroking his cock as he watches me fuck you with this dildo?”

“Yes, Sir, yes!” I replied, not sure whether I was talking about his question or the decadent act he was performing on me.

I watched the man across the way, how his legs spread to give him a stronger stance. How his one hand rested against the glass like he couldn’t take it all in and remain standing. How his eyes were narrowed in on my center, watching the dildo be thrust inside me, again and again.

A sheen of sweat had layered my body. I was trying my best not to come, but Sir’s delicious ministrations combined with knowing that a stranger was watching us and pleasuring himself was making it difficult not to give in. The erotic interloper had his knees bent, his hips thrusting into his hand.

“I think he’s waiting for you to come before he gives in to his desires. Should we help him, or tease him just a bit longer?”

“Help him, please, help him, Sir!”

I knew he knew I was begging for my own release, but I didn’t care.

He removed the vibrator with a flourish, before pressing it back in one fell swoop, the delectable stretching pain pushing me higher. It was taking everything inside me not to come. I just needed to hear him say it, give the order.

He continued his torture for what seemed like hours but was likely only seconds. His other hand came around and pinched my clit between thumb and forefinger. “Come,” he said huskily in my ear, and I did.

The scream that tore from my throat was almost primal. My hips bucked and gyrated against his hand as my eyes lost focus. My vision had stars forming around the outside edges. I came down from my high and noticed that the voyeur had left his post, but left in his place were thick, white strands coating his window.

The spreader bar and cuffs were removed and as I was being lifted down from my perch, the viewer across the way returned with a towel in hand. I laughed openly at the sight of him coming back to clean up his mess. He looked at us through the window and then directly at Sir. Angling his hand to his eyebrow; he brought it back down in a salute before walking away.

 

**Kitten's new Toy is a D/s themed erotic tale, with topics of anal training and public indecency. Read at your own risk.

She saunters into the kitchen, a little wiggle in her step. I assess her over the top of the morning paper. Delicate fabric hugs her form perfectly, the short skirt barely brushing the tops of her toned thighs. Opening the fridge, she bends at the waist to remove something from the bottom shelf, granting me a salacious view of her perfect backside–and feminine folds. The lack of panties has my head raising, and not the one that moments ago was reading about physics. Folding and setting the newsprint aside, I adjust myself in my chair, never for a moment taking my eyes off her.

Accentuating her breasts, which bounce with each sweep of her backside, the dress’s bodice sits low, as if asking permission to let them spill out solely for my viewing pleasure. The strings that hold them in place dig into her plump flesh, making a crisscross pattern, and my fingers itch to pull each thin cord and watch them spill into my hands.

Turning on the kettle, she hums a tune only she can hear, hips swaying to the imagined beat, and I can’t help but to focus on them as they replicate the tempo. The gauze-thin material swirls around her lithe frame, highlighting her curves and seductive charm.

As she reaches into the top cupboard, the dress rises and my fingers twitch as the bottom of her cheeks peek out. Lifting on to her toes, she secures a mug and tea sachet before turning to face me, a smile beaming vibrantly. I raise an eyebrow in response but say nothing about her mischievousness and how she’s trying desperately to get what we both know she wants.

Clearing my throat, I drum my fingertips on the table, deciding this is the day I will start training her. I was going to wait. But if she wants to flaunt her ass, I’ll give her reason to.

“I want to try something new, Kitten. Once you’ve finished your tea, come find me and we’ll begin.”

With that, I stand — doing nothing to hide my growing erection — and leave the room. I can feel her eyes bore into my back as I make my getaway. She was hoping for a reaction. The one she got was not the one she expected. Good.

It takes longer than I would have thought for her to come to me. I know why when I see she’s changed into a new dress, no less revealing than the first. Actually, it may be more so. It buttons from breastbone to thighs, but she only has three of the eight buttons secured. They’re holding the dress together, but barely. The colour matches her eyes wonderfully and they shine like diamonds as she sinks to her knees in the doorway.

Acting like I haven’t summoned her here, she asks “May I enter, Sir?” while coyly twirling her hair around her finger and biting her bottom lip. She knows the answer, but it seems like she’s not done playing the tease.

I give a single nod instead of voicing my confirmation. She frowns but says nothing. Making her way on hands and knees, I watch her ass swing from side to side; her attempt at seduction obvious. Once in front of me, she settles down on her heels and looks at me expectantly.

“I have a few calls to make. Sit there like a good girl, then we’ll start.”

I know she’ll bore in no time. She’s not made to sit still. I learned that early on. It’s either keep her busy, or she’ll find some other way to do so. Judging by her behaviour in the kitchen, Kitten is feeling frisky this morning. That can only mean she needs a good session. But before that I want to have a bit of fun.

I’m only three minutes into the first call when she’s already squirming. It begins with a shuffling of her weight, then fidgeting with her hands. By the fifth minute, her fingers are lingering up her thighs, watching me to see if I’ll notice. I do, of course. You’d have to be dead not to, but I won’t tell her that.

Before I know it, she’s pulled the dress buttons open, giving me a full-frontal view. She spreads her legs, displaying her cunny, but remains kneeling. One hand tweaks a nipple, the other snaking between her thighs. She knows she’s not allowed to bring herself to climax, but I won’t punish her for giving me a show.

When I don’t give her any attention, she crawls closer to me, fingers in line with my fly. Grabbing her wrist, I take her hand away. She lets me know how she feels about this by emitting a saddened, mewling cry. I smile, then nudge her until she lays back silently, eyes focused on my every move.

Opening the top drawer of my desk, I pull out a small velvet bag and dump the contents into my hand. The metal is cool against my skin. I hold up the plug, turning it to show her the gem topper, and her eyes grow round.

“Open,” I say, before popping it into her mouth. “This will keep your pretty lips busy.” I add, with a teasing smile.

She pouts as well as possible with her mouth full.

“I have one last call to make. Keep touching yourself until I tell you to stop, but don’t come. I don’t want to punish you… yet.” I let the threat hang in the air but know that it has done nothing but perhaps make her wetter.

Dialing the remaining number, I watch her continue her task. Two fingers dip into her heat, while the other hand circles her clit. Listening to the phone ring on the other end, I watch as she writhes at my feet, giving me a grand show as she takes her pleasure.

As soon as the call’s finished, I lay the phone in the cradle and pat my thighs. Kitten jumps up immediately and settles her tiny ass in my lap, facing me.

“Are you wet, Kitten?” I ask.

“Mmm.” she replies around the jeweled plug.

“Good. Climb up on my desk, hands and knees. Ass in the air.”

She does as she’s bid, and before I know it, her puckered hole is in line with my eyesight, her cunt swollen and red. Nectar coats her lips with a delectable shine, and I don’t hesitate in tasting her. She trembles as I run my tongue through her core. Removing the plug from her kissable mouth, I press it directly into her center. She gasps, but pushes back with a sigh, more than happy to accept the intrusion.

“You seem needy today, Kitten. Do you need something?” I ask, running my hands down her back and over her ass. She widens her stance as my fingers graze her inner thighs.

“Yes, Sir. Please.” Her reply is throaty, almost mistaken for a moan.

“Do you think showing your ass off in the kitchen is an appropriate way to ask for something?”

“No, Sir.” And for a second, she looks contrite. But it’s quickly hidden behind her smile. “But it may get me fucked.”

“Or punished.” I reply with a wolflike grin.

“I see that as a win-win, Sir.”

“Luckily for you then, we have a new toy.” Opening the drawer, I take out a bottle of lube prepared ahead of time and coat two fingers. Using my opposite hand, I pull the plug out of her depths, then push it back in. While pulling it out a second time, I coat her anus with the excess lube, then push the plug back in, sinking a digit into her ass at the same time. She responds with a whine that ends in a purr.

“Okay, Kitten. Today we start anal training.” I say, pulling out. I repeat, slow and steady, until she’s pushing back against me — just like I knew she would — then I line up my second finger.

“A bit of a pinch. Take a deep breath.” With no further warning, I push into her. She whimpers as I breach her opening, but just like before, she pushes back towards me. I bury my fingers to my knuckles, then hold. She breathes through the stretch, finishing with a low groan.

“Good girl. Okay. You’re ready for the plug now.” I say, pulling it from her pussy. It’s coated in her juices, and more than slick enough for the job at hand.

Once ready, I pull out my fingers, then settle the jeweled plug at her bare entrance.

“This is bigger than my fingers, but not by much. I’ll get it started, but just like last time, then wait for you to push back and claim it.”

I press the steel bulb into her anus, mesmerized as she stretches to accommodate its shape and size. Halfway in, I teasingly push in a bit more, only to pull out until she moans wildly and pushes back in a single thrust. The plug gets sucked inside her perfect peachy bum; the heart-shaped jewel glittering in place.

“So beautiful.” I say with awe as I massage each globe. The scent of her arousal assaults the air. Her cunt is weeping, and it’s blatantly clear she needs a release. Isn’t that too bad?

“Get dressed, Kitten. No panties. We have places to be.”

With a groan, but no other sounds uttered, she does as told and I’m unsure whether I’m relieved or disappointed that the dress is buttoned all the way. Taking her hand, I lead her to the door. “How about a walk?” I make it sound like a question, but she knows it’s anything but.

When we step into the morning spring air, we’re greeted by a gentle wind. It blows her hair back from her shoulders, while lifting her skirt around her thighs. With a gasp, she holds it down, but I just shake my head with a tsk.

We start down the walk, and I lean over and whisper in her ear, “you wanted to tease me by showing off your bum. Now’s your chance. Oh, and so you know, the next plug is bigger.”

**Candlelight Delight is an erotic D/s tale depicting scenes of waxplay and mild knife play. Read at your own risk

Arriving home after a long day at work, I find a plain white envelope taped to the outside of my front door. Removing it with a flourish, I unlock the bolt, step into the air-conditioned entryway and take a deep breath. While tossing my keys into the tray on the side table, I slip my feet from my shoes and grab the unmarked envelope. Walking toward the stairs, I tear it open and stop mid-stride as familiar handwriting catches my attention. He’s left me enough little notes for me to know what this is.

Into the bath with you, little girl.

Dropping the note, I race up the stairs toward the master bedroom en-suite. Crossing the threshold, the smell of lavender and vanilla invades my senses. The sound of the running water catches me off guard. Sir is not usually home at this time of day. I look around the small room but find it empty. He’s likely close by though, watching.

Tiptoeing, I make my way to the tub. It’s overflowing with thick, frothy bubbles and looks so inviting. Pulling my shirt from its tucked position in my far too conservative skirt, I take a step back. Unfastening each button, my fingers move swiftly as if they too want to know how the bath feels. Reaching forward, I turn off the water.

Stepping from the skirt, I slip each stocking from my smooth legs, followed by my bra. No panties, Sir’s orders. Holding onto the side of the clawfoot tub, I dip first my big toe, then my whole foot into the water. It’s warm, but not too hot, and the bubbles remind me of smooth silk as they wash over my skin. Sinking back into the tub, I let my eyes close, release a sigh, and exhale the day’s woes and simply revel in the moment.

“Wake up, sleepy head.” I hear Sir’s voice whisper.

My eyes slowly flutter open, taking in the contours of his face. The five o’clock shadow gives him a roguish air that the black suit contradicts. I could look at him all day, watching how the light changes his expression from hard to loving, slightly carefree. Unfortunately, the water is getting cold. Holding out a hand, Sir helps me up and wraps me in a warmed towel. I purr under the caress of his firm hands, drying each limb tenderly.

“Make sure your hair is up tight, no loose pieces, and meet me in the bedroom in five minutes. Don’t be late.” He exclaims, slapping my ass on the way out.

I wrap the towel tighter around me and set to complete his task. Once my hair is set in a perfect chignon, I make my way to the bedroom. The lights are turned low and there have to be at least 50 candles lit throughout the room. They fill the entire space with the warm glow of flickering flames. The effect is stunningly beautiful and creepily eerie at the same time.

“Come, stand in front of me, legs shoulder-width apart.”

I walk over to Sir and stand where he’s indicated. He holds up a wireless bullet vibrator and using two fingers separates my flesh and slowly pushes the toy inside. Pulling out a small remote, he turns it to the lowest setting. The hum is noticeable, but mild.

Keeping his focus firmly on my face, Sir pours some oil into his hands. Rubbing them together to thoroughly coat both, he runs them over my shoulders and down my arms as the smell of coconut floods my senses. His hands roam lower, massaging my breasts, lifting them and holding their weight. Moving tortuously slow, the hands descend to my stomach, spreading out to cover its entirety.

Directing me with a little spin of his finger, I turn. His palms start against my shoulders, moving slowly to rub the fragrant oil into my back and buttocks. Once satisfied, Sir kneels behind me and ensures each leg is covered in slick oil. All the while the vibrator continues its dance inside me.

“Up on the bed.”

Moving gingerly, my thighs sliding together effortlessly, I position myself on the towel adorned bed, laying back. Sir comes into view and covers my eyes with a black blindfold. The silence meets the darkness and I take a deep breath to cover my nerves. Sir’s hands slowly make their way from the side of my face down to my stomach and lower to my vulva. I hear the oil lid snap open once more and then Sir’s hands are on me. He spreads my lips, pressing a finger to each side of my folds, adding to my accumulating moisture. I let out a moan and am rewarded with a flick to my clit. Then another. He continues until I’m whimpering. Knowing he won’t let me come so easily, I don’t bother asking. I simply take another deep breath.

Knowing my signs as well as he does, Sir knows I’m close and stops. I let out a groan of frustration. Slapping my hip firmly, yet gently, he says, “on your front.”

With the little bullet humming away inside me, I roll over and his hands grab a handful of my buttocks. Plumping it and pinching, giving each cheek a gentle slap before continuing to rub the oil into my relaxed form. Firm strokes relieve the remaining stiffness from my limbs. Enjoying the attention, I start to drift off again, savoring the loosening of the knots in my back. The gentleness of his hands becomes a firmer caress, his fingertips pulling and prodding my skin. My nerve ending come alive with each pinch. With no warning, he turns the vibrator to a higher speed.

“Can’t have you falling asleep now, can I? Not very good for the ego.”

“Sorry, Sir. It just feels so good.”

“Let’s see what we can do to keep you awake, then.”

The sensation starts as warmth but quickly becomes hot, too hot. Heat pools at the small of my back. I let out what I can only describe as a squeak, but the heat fades as fast as it came. I sigh once again as the sensation subsides. Starting at the base of my neck, the intense heat begins anew and then increases as liquid wax flows down the hollow of my spine. As the candle is moved the heat lessens, leaving behind a slowly solidifying stripe.

Sir continues this motion until I can feel that my entire back is coated in wax, the layers becoming a thick crust. Moving to my legs, Sir trails a line down each, taking his time to allow the ribbons to dry completely. Once the crust has overtaken my backside, Sir has me roll over.

Removing the blindfold, Sir kisses my lips gently, adoringly. Standing, he raises a pillar candle far above my belly and watches as I watch the stream of hot wax descend to meet my fluttering tummy. The wax connects but has lost all its sting with the descent. I let out the breath I didn’t know I was holding and take another, quicker breath as the wax flows again. Closer this time. The heat is much more discernible with the proximity.

I watch as Sir moves his hand back and forth across the expanse of my chest, stomach, and thighs, leaving behind a coating of wax with each swipe. First red, then white, followed by black. The wax caking and layering to keep me immobile. Spreading my legs slightly, as to not crack the wax sealing me in, Sir grabs another candle. This one smaller and encased in tin.

“Take a deep breath, little girl,” Sir says, bringing the candle just about my mons. “This will be warm.”

Without allowing me to fully take the breath, Sir drops the thick potion onto my clit. It rolls down my slit and through my folds. The heat is almost unbearable. I let out a strangled cry, but Sir’s fingers descend upon my nub, rolling it gently between his forefinger and thumb. This is not wax, not the way I thought. It’s massage oil and aids in the torture of my engorged sweet spot. The pressure on each side of my cunt strengthens the sensations of the vibrator inside me. The mixture is delicious and I let out a long drawn-out moan. Relinquishing my nub unceremoniously, Sir stands again and grabs a black pillar candle.

“This will be a little more intense little girl. No rubbing this burn out. Ready?”

I nod my head quickly, but before I can even take a breath, the wax is pouring over my mons and engorged lips. Filling the spaces between and running down to meet my anus. The heat is sharp but intoxicating, fading quickly. My breathing increases and sounds choppy and scattered to my own ears. Again Sir pours the wax, filling any empty spaces left behind.

“Good girl, you handled that well. That will be the worst, for now.” The vibrations increase again, leaving me slightly shaky. I’m not sure how much more I can handle until I come. Coming without permission will not end well.

Sir replaces the black and removes a red and white. Standing with his hands spaced above my breasts, he looks me in the eye and drizzles the fiery liquid. Each rivulet dropping onto a peak. The wax splashes as it hits my budded nipples, slowly dripping to pool on either side of me, drying and solidifying as it falls.

Once I’m caked in the hardened substance, Sir comes to stand beside me and I notice the knife in his hand. I stiffen at the sight. We’ve spoken of edge play but have not engaged in it. The sight of the knife sets me on edge, but I trust him and I know he won’t hurt me. Keeping that thought firmly in my head, I take a deep breath and close my eyes. Letting it out quickly and take another to calm myself before opening them.

“That was a wonderful, little girl. Watching you tame your fear and submitting to my will is so beautiful. Still okay?”

I nod my head, and he lifts the knife so I can see it. “This is to remove the wax, nothing more. But I need you to stay perfectly still. No matter if it tickles, if it feels too close or like it’s biting, I need you to stay still. Can you do that for me?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Good girl. Let’s continue.”

Holding the knife lengthways, Sir presses it to my stomach. The length of the blade pushing into me in a long line. The temperature contradicts the heat of my skin and my breath stalls halfway in. Letting pressure off the blade, he pulls the razor-sharp edge slowly over my skin. The wax comes up in curls that remind me of chocolate swirls or ice cream being scooped. The layers of wax look mesmerizing as the colors blend to create pieces of art. Once most of the wax is removed from my torso, he moves onto my legs, repeating the pulling and pushing, shaving the last remnants away.

When just my tits and pussy remain to be cleared, Sir takes a breath and a few pictures. The effect is gorgeous. My skin is red from the heat of the wax and the friction of the blade. I’m wearing a wax bikini. Small splotches of wax left behind mar the perfect symmetry and give the whole look a graffiti effect.

“Okay, little girl, I’m going to remove the rest of the wax and then you’re going to roll over again. I still need to remove the wax from your backside.”

Without waiting for an answer, Sir grasps one nipple between his thumb and forefinger. Raising the knife to my areola, he slowly slides the knife along my breast. The wax comes away in long strips, air cooling my flesh in the knifes wake. The sensation is exquisite and adds to the growing arousal building deep inside me.

Once my breasts are free from their wax cage, Sir stands at the foot of the bed, looking up at me. “Okay, last part.”

Sliding his hand up the length of my leg, Sir grips my ankle and pulls my legs open, draping my foot over the edge of the bed. He repeats the movement on the other side, leaving me open and bare, except for the wax. I can feel the wax pulling my skin where it has sealed the cracks, my pussy lips encased in a thick layer. Fumbling in his pocket, the vibrator turns to a higher speed. I take a deep breath in my attempt to hold down the impending orgasm.

“No coming, little girl. I’d hate to punish you after all this glorious fun.”

Using the tip of the knife, Sir slides it under the seal at the top of my mound, cracking the wax in a display of shattered fragments. Pulling my labia tight with one hand, he draws the knife from my slit to the apex of my thigh, removing the wax in quick strokes. The blade feels cool against my sensitive nether region, but I’m too focused on the sharpness of the blade next to my delicate flesh. Repeating the motion on the other side, Sir takes his time removing the clinging paraffin.

As the wax is removed from my pussy, the sound of the vibrator becomes louder, the vibrations visible as the intensity increases. My entire body is shaking in my attempt to keep myself from exploding. Touching a single finger to my clit, Sir moves it in tight circles. Watching my expression, he continues his ministrations, bringing me to the edge then stopping completely. I let out a loud groan of frustration as the vibrations cease as well.

“Thought I’d make it easy for you, did you? Not today, little girl. Up on your elbows and knees.”

Quickly, I get up and flip over. After stabilizing myself, I separate my legs slightly, as Sir has so often instructed. Standing behind me, I feel Sir pull the bullet out, but it’s quickly replaced by something larger and longer. Slowly he pumps the new implement into me, filling and stretching my aroused flesh. Once seated fully, a new vibration starts. This one deeper and stronger. With being so full, I know I will not last long.

“You just need to get through a couple more minutes, then I’ll let you come. But first, you need to stay still and be a good girl. Oh, and do not let this dildo fall. If it hits the table, you will not come, but your ass will become a delicious shade of red. Up to you. Which will it be?”

“I’ll be good, Sir, and keep it in. Please, I want to come.”

“I bet you do. Soon you will.”

Turning the vibrations up yet again, Sir begins to once more remove the wax using the knife. The feeling is more relaxing now that I know how it will feel. When he reaches my ass, the blade pulls effortlessly across my globes. The knife descends to my center and I flinch. The added sensation is going to push me over the edge. I feel the dildo slide out from the movement. I shift my body, trying to keep it in place, but it’s no use. The initial movement started pushing it out. It’s too big for me to hold it for very long.

“I see that dildo sliding out of your gorgeous pussy, little girl. Do you need some help?”

“Yes, Sir, please,” I reply, frustration laced in my voice.

“Go ahead, push it back in, then fuck yourself with it.”

I let out a moan, knowing or hoping he’s going to let me come.

“But before you start, rollover, I want to watch.”

I do as I’m bid in record time, opening my legs as wide as I can. Gripping the dildo, I push it into myself with long, hard strokes. Within seconds I’m moaning, and I know if he doesn’t give me the words soon, I’m going to receive a punishment.

“Sir, I need to come, please.”

“Not yet, greedy girl, not until I say.”

I hear a zipper and look over to see Sir pulling his hard cock from his pants. The sight is glorious. His hand caresses his rigid length in long strokes. The bulbous head disappearing behind his hand, only to reappear. Pre-cum has formed at the head and I know he’s as close as I am. I lick my lips, wanting to taste him. Sir is watching my every move and lets a moan escape as my tongue slips out.

I continue pumping myself full with the dildo. My teeth are clenched, and sweat is pooling in the base of my throat and belly button. Sir comes to stand beside me, placing his pre-moistened cock next to my mouth. I greedily open my lips and he slides in letting out a long groan as he does. Replacing my hand with his on the dildo, he continues to fuck me as he slides in and out of my mouth. I’m moaning and tears are spilling from my eyes. My whole body is strung tight like a wire.

Suddenly he jerks and breaths, “I’m coming, swallow it all. Take it.”

I swallow each stream as it coats the back of my throat. Still fucking me with the dildo, Sir pulls his softening cock from my mouth and pulls my clit between his thumb and forefinger, twisting and pulling, making me cry out. Removing the dildo from my wet heat, he continues to rub my nub. I let out a frustrated groan and tears fill my eyes.

“Okay, little girl, I’m going to let you come, but not until I say.”

I nod my head frantically. Sir latches onto my clit with his mouth, pulling it between his teeth and nibbling almost painfully. The motion forces my hips to buck off the bed. In one quick thrust, the dildo is fully seated inside me again. Flicking his tongue one, two, three times, Sir looks up and me, removing the dildo from my slit, and his mouth my button and says, “come.”

And I do. I lose the ability to see. His face comes in and out of focus as wave after wave of paralyzing euphoria overtakes me. I come for what seems like hours, but I know that’s impossible. Once the last tremors have subsided, and the convulsions have become a slight tremor, Sir bundles me in his arms and whispers, “good girl.”

**Handy Wake-up Call is an erotic tale. It contains themes of vaginal fisting. Read at your own risk.

I awake to the sensation of fingers lazily sliding through my folds. The gentle lapping keeps me in a half-asleep state, but arousal pulls me from my deep slumber. With each swipe, they move more freely as my juices start to flow. Each circuit marking progress. North to my clit, south to my anus. Fingers dip into me briefly, not enough to open me to the probing, but enough to make me crave more, to desire to be filled. To feel his hard body against my softer one.

Knowing I’m awake, but giving me time to appreciate the morning's grace, he nuzzles his chin into the space between throat and neck, nipping gently. I voice my delight with a soft moan. Taking that as the encouragement he needs, my thighs are pulled apart. One placed over his own, the other hangs limply over the edge of the bed.

Slowly, pulling the blankets away from my naked body, he puts me on display for his pleasure. Sliding one leg over mine, he hold it in place and lets his eyes roam over my body as he continues his appraisal. Pulling his fingers together at the top to circle my clit, separating them as they pass by my wet entrance. Running along each side. Stimulating, soft, but never penetrating. Pulling them back together as he circles my puckered hole. His hand wanders back up and repeats the journey.

Eyeing his morning erection, I lick my lips. This man’s cock is delectable and if I could do anything all day, it would be devouring his manhood inch by inch. Taking his other hand, he starts to stroke himself, letting me see how aroused he is. “You want this?” He asks, focusing on my face as I’m focused on his growing erection.

“Please,” I whisper.

Stroking faster, he says, “I didn’t hear that. What did you say?”

“Please,” I repeat. “May I have your cock?”

“Too bad, no. This morning is about what I want. I think torturing you for a bit is a lot more fun.” He continues to stroke himself lazily, mimicking the motions of his other hand. The accumulated wetness between my thighs creating an audible delight.

Removing his hand from his hard shaft, he kneels between my legs. The view is tantalizing, and I know with just a little shimmy, I could easily take him in my hand and encourage him to give me what I want. And what it looks like he needs. But I’ll be a good girl, because I know he’ll give it to me, in his own time.

Reaching his free hand up to my clit, he grasps it between his thumb and two fingers. The slippery flesh moves effortlessly in his hold. Plucking my button, he plunges two fingers deep into my channel. I take a deep breath, adjusting to the internal pressure and sudden stretching. Not giving me time to acclimatize, he pulls his digits out and fills me again with three. My pussy sucks his fingers, filling the room with the sounds of his thrusts.

Shoving his fingers into me roughly, he pulls my clit, twisting and turning. It looks distorted being pulled so far, but it feels amazing. My eyes roll into the back of my head, fluttering shut.

“Eye’s on me, beautiful.” He says gently. “I want to watch you come apart.” Keeping my eyes on his face, I tuck my hands behind my head, embracing the tortuous movements of his fingers. Each withdrawal of his digits presses against my g-spot. Each stroke pushing me to the brink of euphoria.

I feel my climax building. It’s strong and full of urgency. Each stroke and pluck of his fingers pushing me closer to the edge. My breath quickens and I moan a long, drawn-out cry. He knows I‘m close and picks up the pace, pushing his fingers into me hard and with purpose. His knuckles grinding roughly against my pelvis.

My hips start lifting off the mattress, tempting him to push his fingers into me, deeper. I need more. Knowing me as well as he does, he pulls his hand away, then abruptly fills me again. Knowing he has all four fingers buried inside my cunt does weird things to my head. I feel my pussy gush over his hand and hear him moan in response. His eyes are glued to the apex between my thighs. His four fingers encased by my wet channel.

“Think you can take more? Think I can fit all of it inside your gorgeous cunny?”

I can’t do anything but moan, which turns to groans as I feel his thumb line up with my entrance. Slowly, he pushes his hand forward, rubbing my clit in tight circles to keep my arousal on high and the juices flowing. Pushing a little more, I feel the heal of his hand pressing against my entrance, and I push against him, the claiming of his fist becoming my personal ambition. The pressure is exquisite. The growing stretch filling me with desire. When I think I can’t take anymore, his hand starts to slide inside. Slowly at first, then suddenly I’m full.

Pausing in his movements, he looks at me. “Look at this beauty. My hand fully inside your cunt. Your body covered in sweat. Your eyes hooded and caressing me with that sultry expression. I can’t wait to watch you come.” He continues stroking himself, taking in the view. Turning his hand slightly, his knuckles change their position inside me and I know that I will not last long like this. The fullness and the desire to feel him move war inside me. I feel like I may be ripped apart, but the stretch is delicious and somehow I want more before he takes it away completely.

His hand shifts, forming a fist, his movements restricted by my firm flesh. I feel each ridge of his hand, the dips and valleys pushing all the right spots.

“Touch yourself for me. Don’t stop until you come.” His free hand is on his own gorgeous length, stroking gently, bringing it to its full glory. Placing my fingers in place apprehensively, I circle my clit and stop immediately, knowing I‘m close. “No, no stopping. Even if you come, you need to keep going. Again.”

Returning to my task, I circle my clit lazily, hoping to draw out, to extend the incredible sensation, but it’s no use. The heat starts in my belly and explodes outward. Filling my limbs with static and splendor. I cry out, my eyes squeezing shut. My hips thrust against his hand, pulling him deeper. I rub myself hard, reveling in the last waves of my climax.

As I descend back to my pre-orgasmic state, his hand starts to turn back and forth, in and out. The circular motion pushing on my g-spot, the thrusting pushing on everything else. I focus on his hand sliding over his cock. The head playing peek-a-boo with each caress.

“Rub that clit, beautiful. I want to see you come again.”

Moaning, I return to fondling my button. Pinching it and twisting, attempting to mimic his previous movements. His hand continues its undulations. Shifting my eyes, I watch his arm twist and turn, reaching for all the best spots, his hand hidden behind the stretched skin of my vulva, the other fucking his cock with fervor. The sight drives me over the edge and I come again, crying out loudly as wave after wave of ecstasy surge through me. I hear him groan and his seed lands hot over my stomach and breasts. Each pump of his hand covers me with more of the pearly liquid.

Slumping back against the pillows, I watch as he slowly drags his hand from my center. It’s glistening and pruned. His fingers release long strands of sticky come as he separates them. Placing his pointer and middle finger at my mouth, he pushes both inside. “Suck,” he says, “clean them properly. We have to get ready for work."

 

This story was originally published on my blog.

**Master's Call is a M/s erotic tale. It involves public masturbation and exhibitionism. Read at your own risk.

 

My phone beeps, letting me know I’ve received a new message. I pull my phone off the conference table, trying to check who it is without alerting my colleagues. Opening my screen, I see it’s a message from Master.

Excuse yourself, go to the restroom and call me. Now!

“I have to take this,” I say to the table in general, making sure not to make eye contact. “I’ll be back as soon as possible.”

My supervisor just nods his head at me but doesn’t look my way or ask questions. A good start. As I’m making my way down the hallway, my phone beeps again.

Take your bag!

I backtrack to my cubicle, grabbing my purse and slipping it over my shoulder, I tiptoe past the conference room, hoping nobody noticed my back and forth. Arriving at the restroom, I call Master.

“Hello, little slut.” Master starts. Never one to waste time with pleasantries.

“Hello, Sir.” I reply, “How may I serve you?”

“Lock the door. When I hang up the phone, strip down to your bra and panties, and wait for further instruction. Inside your bag is a vibrator placed there this morning. Remove it, now.”

I do as I’m told, removing the slim silver bullet from my purse. It’s new, or at least, I’ve not seen it before. There are no wires and I’m not seeing a way to turn it on.

“I have it, Sir.”

“I’m going to hang up. Strip and place the vibrator inside that glorious pussy. I’ll send you further instructions.”

Unceremoniously, he hangs up.

I remove each piece of clothing, being sure to fold it as expected. I place all the items gently on the ledge above the sink. Letting my panties fall to my knees, I slip the vibrator inside my vagina, surprised by how wet I already am. There’s just something about Master’s voice and the way he gives directions that get me going. I pull my panties back up and stand at attention, waiting for Master’s next command.

It seems like I wait for a very long time. Nothing happens, my phone doesn’t ring, no more messages come through, then slowly I feel a vibration deep inside me. It increases at even intervals, becoming more forceful and much more powerful. The vibrations become so intense that I let out a loud moan and grab the sink to steady myself.

When I’m just on the edge of coming, it abruptly stops. I stand and catch my breath. In the mirror, my reflection looks flushed. A light sheen covering my skin. My chest is heaving up and down in my attempt to catch my breath.

Suddenly my phone starts vibrating. Masters’ picture comes up on the screen. It’s an incoming video call. I open the app and wait.

“Oh, would you look at that. It worked I see.”

“Yes, Sir. Very well.”

“Not too well I hope. No coming unless you’re permitted. Right, dirty girl?

“Yes, Sir. I didn’t come, Sir.”

“Good girl, maybe we can fix that. Panties off. Bra too. Place your phone where I can see you strip for me.”

I position my phone on the ledge, using the little square in the corner to make sure Master can see what he requires. Carefully, I remove the remainder of my clothing, ensuring to place them neatly in the pile with my other belongings.

“Such a pretty girl. Are you ready, slut?”

“Always and in all ways, Sir.”

“Good girl. I’m going to turn this wonderful little toy back on. You are to stand tall, legs shoulder-width apart, arms behind you, palms to elbows. I want to see those perky tits. You are not allowed to come until I tell you. If you come, your punishment will be to sit in your meetings for the rest of the day with this vibrator inside of you, on high. And you will not come, at all, for the rest of the week. Do you understand me?”

“Yes, Sir. I understand.”

“Okay, let’s begin.”

I brace my arms behind me, pushing my breasts out as far as I can, for Sir’s pleasure. The vibrations start at a low speed and build in intensity and strength until I can feel my whole body trembling with the strength it’s taking to resist the urge to come, to bend, to rub out the need to come, to push my legs together to give the need inside just a little relief, something. The vibrations continue at full speed until there is sweat dripping from me, my whole body is tight as a guitar string.

Abruptly the vibrations stop. I sag in relief, panting laboriously.

“Right foot up on the counter dirty girl. I want to see that pussy so I can think about how hard you would be gripping my cock with that wet cunt.” A moan escapes me at his course words ; I love it when he talks dirty.

“Alright slut. Again.”

This time there is no build-up. He turns it straight to the highest speed. The vibrations are so intense I can hear the tiny motor through my flesh. The build-up to orgasm comes so fast that I clench my teeth and shut my eyes tight to help me concentrate on not coming.

“Eyes open, slut. I want you to watch yourself fall apart. When I let you.” He finishes his sentence with a little chuckle, which tells me he’s just begun and by the time this is done, I will be a puddle on the floor.

He lets the vibrator hum away at high until I’m convulsing in my attempt to keep myself upright. My skin has rivulets of moisture running down to pool on the floor. Pussy juices free-flow out of me, the inside of my thighs slick and wet. My body is rigid in my attempt to hold myself up.

“Rub your clit, dirty girl. Use one hand to rub, the other to hold yourself open to me. I want to see the pink flesh of that pussy.”

Doing as he says, I use my left hand to spread my labia apart and use my right to rub my sensitive nub in small tight circles. I’ve only touched myself for a matter of seconds when I know I’m going to come, with or without permission, It’s going to happen and there is nothing I can do about it.

“I’m going to come, Sir. I’m going to come!”

“NO! Stop now!”

I stop rubbing myself and the vibrations stop simultaneously. I leave my hand on my clit and my labia spread, my foot up on the sink. My hair is stuck to my face from the sweat that clings to all of me. The room is filled with the sounds of my ragged breaths.

Master waits until I’ve caught my breath and asks, “Better, slut? Ready to continue?”

“Y-y-yes, Sir. I’m ready.” I struggle to say.

“Good, let’s go.”

Again, the vibrations start at the highest speed. I can’t do anything but take it. I leave my lips spread, but I’m terrified to touch myself. Master will not go easy on me if I come without permission.

“Rub that clit, slut.”

I teasingly rub my nub, not giving it too much pressure. I know I won’t be able to hold back if I rub it the way I want.

“Harder, dirty girl.”

With a moan, I do as I’m bid, increasing the pressure and speed of each circle. Keeping my jaw clenched, I rub myself as hard and fast as I can. I can hear the moisture accumulating, each swipe of my clit making my fingers wetter.

Suddenly the vibrations stop, and Master sternly says, “Come, pretty girl, and I want to hear you.”

He’s barely finished his sentence and I’m coming. My leg that’s placed on the sink is shaking, threatening to overturn me. I sag forward, eyes rolling to the back of my head, my mouth creating a perfect “O” as I release a high-pitched squeal and a deep moan. I rub my clit to finish off the last few pulses of my orgasm. When I’m able to contain myself, I stand up straight and look at Master on the screen.

“Good girl.” He says, smiling like a Cheshire cat. “But you’d better get back to work. Clean yourself up and get dressed. And Beautiful, I want that vibrator right where it is. Have a good day.”

The call disconnects and my phone screen goes dark. I grab my panties off the top of the pile. As I’m sliding my first foot inside the black lace, the restroom door opens.

Shit!

 

**Master's Call was originally published on my blog.