Overnight Expression: Sir

I was exhausted and exhilarated after fucking Marta to the point where we both reached shattering orgasms, but I was also aware that I was crushing her. Her knees were up by her ears, and even though she was still holding me firmly around the neck, her breathing was labored. Slowly, I started to lift my weight off her with the intent of moving to a more comfortable position.

“Please don’t go,” she said in a small voice. “I want you inside me. Please.”

I smiled at her. “I’m not going, and I promise I will stay inside you, but I also want to shift to a more sustainable position.”

With that, I leaned back while keeping my cock plugged hard into her cunt, a little bit like doing a limbo, but bending back vertically rather than horizontally. I lifted her right leg off of my left shoulder, and gently moved it to the other side of my head, which allowed me to move my body under the right leg, off to her right side. I put my left hand down on the bed, and slowly lowered myself down onto my left side while turning her onto her left side, lowering her legs to the bed, and swivelling my body (and cock) so my body was parallel to hers, and I was behind her.

This left us cuddled like spoons, but my cock hadn’t left her cunt at any time.

“Wow!” she said, “I’m impressed,” in an amused voice.

Then, quietly: “Thank you for staying inside me.”

“Believe me, it’s my pleasure.” I reached down to pull the covers over us, then put my right arm across her body, hugged her close, gently cupped her right breast, and kissed the back of her shoulder.

We fell asleep like that.

…

I woke later on for the usual reason, quietly got out of bed and went to the bathroom to pee. When I tried to quietly get back in bed, I found she was lying on her back and looking up at me. She reached up, cupped her hand along the side of my face, and pulled me to her, then kissed me.

I was almost as stunned at the massive orgasms we both had when we made love, quietly and gently, in cowgirl position with her on top and controlling the pace, as I had been when I fucked her – and my – brains out.

We fell asleep again, cuddling like spoons again, with my cock still inside her.

…

I woke much later to the strange sensation of someone sucking my cock. It’s a great way to wake up, it mostly felt amazing, and it looked it even better as I watched her bobbing slowly up and down in the dim twilight. I was a little surprised when she forced herself down on my cock and made herself gag on it, which she held for a second or two before moving back up, swallowing hard, then starting to bob up and down again, but it felt so good that I didn’t waste much time thinking about that, or anything else. She kept doing that, up and down several times, then making herself gag on me, then recovering and starting again.

A smug, domineering thought crossed my mind that my cock probably tasted of both my cum and her cunt, and that I wanted to force her to lick and suck my cock clean, but coherent thought quickly vanished as she continued to suck me.

Very soon I put my hand on her hair and said, “I’m going to cum in your mouth if you keep doing that!”

She increased her speed, and sucked slightly harder, with the result that in almost no time I started to cum.

She immediately forced her mouth as far down my cock as she could, both gagging and swallowing at the same time, but keeping as much of my cock in her mouth as she could manage. My head felt like it was exploding, I saw bright lights going on and off, and I was having a hard time breathing, groaning and grasping the sheets as if I was afraid I’d fall off the bed. It was truly a mind-blowing, as well as cock blowing, experience.

When I regained awareness, I noticed that she was on her knees, holding very still, but still keeping my cock deep in her throat. I reached down, and put my hand gently on her head, stroked her hair and said, “Come here.”

Instead of moving up to my shoulder, she let my cock escape her mouth, moved down to my feet, curled up in a ball, kneeling before me with her forehead and palms flat on the bed by my feet, and said, in a small voice, “I am a slut, and a cunt, and a cocksucker, and I want to be your slave. Please.”

I was flabbergasted all over again that this unbelievably brilliant, incredibly beautiful woman was here – and saying and doing the things she was. I felt as if I’d stumbled into a storybook, but I had no desire to fall out of it.

To Be a Slave: Marta

There was a pause while he seemed to think over what I had just asked for, then he reached down, awkwardly grabbed some of my hair and gently pulled. “If you’re going to be my slave, then you need to do as I tell you. Come here!”

I quickly moved up the bed and snuggled close to him, with my head pillowed on his shoulder. He reached down and grabbed the covers, pulling them approximately over us, with the odd limb sticking out here and there. He stroked my hair, and kissed the top of my head.

After a while I asked, quietly, speaking into his shoulder, “Will you let me be your slave?”

There was a pause, then, using the iron-hard voice he had used with me when we arrived at his condo last night, he said, “Shut the fuck up, cunt. I’ll decide what I decide, when I decide it, and you will wait until I do. Understand me?”

“Yes, master.”

“I’m not your master.”

I considered, then said, “May I know your name so I know what to call you?”

“No, you may not.” He paused. “For now, call me Sir.”

“Yes, Sir.” I was quiet, deciding that I’d better be still until he spoke to me again.

His body was warm, and although he was well-muscled, it was very comfortable – and comforting – cuddling up next to him.

Oddly, even though I knew nothing about this man, not even his name, I felt safe and cherished. I smiled to myself, feeling happier than I had for many years, then dozed off again.

…

When I woke up, I desperately need to go to the toilet, so I started to slip off the bed. He grabbed my wrist and said, “Where are you going?”

I made my voice small, “I need to go to the bathroom. Please may I?”

“No. Come here.”

Reluctantly, I moved back towards him.

“On a scale of 0 to 10, how badly do you need to go?” he asked.

“I’m at a 9, quickly heading for a 10 and an unfortunate accident.” I replied, “I really need to go, and it’s not just pee, either!” I thought this might be a proper inducement to get him to let me go.

“In that case, you’d better work quickly.”

“Sir?” I said, confused.

“If you want to beg to use the bathroom, your mouth must be full of my stiff cock when you do so.” And he waited.

Not quite believing it, I blinked. He merely waited, biding his time – but time was on his side, and he was still holding my wrist.

I nodded, then slid down the bed, gently lifted his almost limp cock, and sucked it into my mouth. He let go of my wrist.

I slowly sucked on his cock, as it stiffened, and gently bobbed up and down. After a couple of (desperate!) minutes, it was hard in my mouth. I went down on it, and mumbled around it, “Please sir, may I go to the bathroom.”

He sighed, and said, “Yes, but when you come back, you will come back to this exact position. Do you understand?”

I nodded.

“Then go.”

I quickly – but carefully – scrambled up from the bed into the bathroom. As I started to close the door, he said, “I didn’t give you permission to close the door, did I?”

I paused, then said, “No, Sir,” and swung it open again. I could feel my face turning red.

But I needed to go, so I did.

While I did that, I noticed that it was a large, luxurious bathroom, and even had a bidet, which surprised me. After I finished, I moved over to the bidet, to wash.

“Do not use the bidet,” Sir called out, so I washed my hands. then looked longingly at the large, well-equipped shower, and said, “May I have a shower please, Sir? I stink.”

“No, you may not. You stink of cunt, and I like it. Come here.”

I quickly moved back to bed, and started to take his still-stiff cock in my mouth. He stopped me.

“Come back up here and shut up.”

I did both things, happy to be next to him.

He smiled at me, licked my shoulder, and said, “I like it that you smell of cunt. Maybe I’ll see if I can get your scent bottled, then make you wear it to parties.” He quirked an eyebrow at me, and I laughed.

But even as I laughed, my cunt started to moisten again. He seemed to have more control over me than I did – and I liked it.

After a few more minutes of cuddling, he said, “Neither of us had any supper last night, and we both had a very active night, so how about if I make us some breakfast?”

As he said it, I realized I was famished, so I nodded vigorously.

He got up, went to his closet and got a bathrobe, which he belted around himself. I got out of bed, and asked, “Do you have a robe or something I could borrow?”

He stopped, and smiled a not very pleasant smile, “Yes, I do, but you aren’t going to wear it. I want you completely naked and on display. That’s why all your clothes are locked away, and will stay there until noon. In fact, when you sit at the table to eat, you are to keep your legs apart, so I can see your cunt.”

I blinked, then shrugged and said. “OK. So, when do we eat?” And stood up, stretching.

He stood looking at me with a strange expression on his face. I blushed, and started to cover myself with my hands, then stopped, dropped my hands to my sides, stood up straight and spread my feet wider so my thighs were farther apart. He probably couldn’t see it, but I was getting wet again.

He swallowed hard, and said, “Good girl. Come into the kitchen,” and turned away.

He is a very unusual man, and I find myself being quite captivated by him. And in more ways than just by having him lock away my clothes.

But what he did next caught me completely by surprise.

Table Talk: Marta

As he walked towards the kitchen, he stopped by a closet, opened it, and took out a thick, fluffy towel. When we got to the kitchen, he pulled out a chair, placed the towel over it, and said, “You should be comfortable here. Sit, and let’s talk.”

I sat very gingerly as my ass was truly sore. “You won’t tell me your name, but will you at least tell me something about you? You are a complete mystery!”

He gave me a happy grin, and said, “This is the first time in my life I’ve ever been a mystery man. It’s kind of nice.”

He paused, considering, then said, “OK, I teach math.”

I thought about that and started to cross my legs, then caught myself, spread my legs wider apart, and said, “Is there something I can tell you about me? Would you like to know my name?”

“You are Dr. Marta Maria Esteban Rabinovich.”

I was stunned. “How do you know that?”

“I know a great deal about you. In fact, you are, if it’s not too embarrassing to say, a hero of mine.” He paused, and gave me a haunted look as if he felt – guilty – somehow.

I got a very uncomfortable feeling in the pit of my stomach, and unconsciously closed my legs.

“You’ve closed your legs. You’re not being a very good slave.”

I looked at him. He sighed, held up a hand and said, “Please. I am not stalking you. I did not follow you to the reception, I didn’t even know you would be there, although I hoped so. But I was delighted to find you there, and decided it was too good an opportunity to pass up.

He sighed. “As I said last night, I’d like to ask you a question.”

I didn’t recall him saying he wanted to ask me a question. “What question?”

“I wanted to ask if you could help me understand your latest paper. How can it be that space-time is not reality, but just an illusion?”

I sat there, naked, after having been well and truly – and wonderfully – fucked, stared at him, then burst out laughing at the completely unexpected incongruity of his question. That released a lot of pent-up tension, and we both wound up literally rolling on the floor, holding our sides, and laughing uncontrollably.

Eventually, the laughter died down, and we found ourselves cuddling, like a yin-yang symbol, with my head on his stomach and his head on mine, on the floor of his kitchen. Actually, that told me something very important about him. The floor was clean enough that we could eat off it.

We were silent for a moment, then I stretched up and kissed him and said, “Do I still smell like cunt, and would you like to fuck me again, please?”

He paused, then said, “Yes, you do, and yes, I would, but I want to get some food into us both, or we may not survive what I have in mind next.”

I grinned at him and said, “What will it depend on?”

He grinned back, “On whether I can keep my balance long enough while standing on my hands.”

We both laughed, then got off the floor. I sat – carefully – back on my chair, making sure to spread my legs as wide as I could, facing him. He moved around the kitchen, efficiently and very ably making a modest breakfast. (“I don’t want you to eat too much or you’ll explode when I start you spinning,” he grinned.)

The two pancakes with butter and maple syrup he served me were fluffy and delicious. The single fried egg was done perfectly, sunny-side-up and just barely congealed. The toast was amazing.

“My own recipe.”

“You make your own bread?”

“Yup.”

And the fresh-squeezed orange juice and coffee were both outstanding, much the best that I can remember tasting anywhere. (“Jamaican Blue Mountain beans, just ground, and freshly imported Seville oranges, thanks.”)

When I was done, I pushed my plate back and said, “That was quite wonderful. You can fuck like a prize bull, cook like a chef, and keep house like – well, I’ve run out of superlatives. Will you marry me?” I joked.

He stopped, looked hard at me, and replied, “Ask me again another time when you’re serious, and I might say yes.” He got up.

“Now it’s time to go back to bed. Come with me,” and he held out his hand. The light banter was gone, and his dominant self was very definitely back.

The Well-Spring: Sir

I took off my robe and tossed it towards the closet, unveiling my erection. As I climbed back on the bed, she knelt down beside it, head down, arms crossed with hands on opposite shoulders, eyes closed, and said, “How may I serve you, master?”

I stopped, and once again shook my head. “Come up here on the bed, then listen, and be patient with me. This will take some explaining.”

She quickly climbed up next to me, sitting on her heels, her legs spread wide, and looked expectant.

I scooted across so that my back was near the headboard, and that I could lean back on it if I needed to, then crossed my legs into a yogic easy seat, with my erection sticking up between my crossed legs.

“Come here, facing me, and sit on my lap. Slide my cock into you as you sit down, then wrap your legs around my back. This is The Well-Spring.”

She moved carefully to do as I said, and quickly wound up facing me, with her arms around my neck, and her legs around my back, with my cock impaling her. She was very wet already, and we hadn’t quite started.

I held my arms around her midsection, and kissed her deeply.

She groaned.

“What?” I asked.

“My ass hurts from where you paddled me, and, uh, my cunt hurts from how hard you fucked me.”

I smiled. “I know. Live with it.”

She nodded. “Sir.”

I kissed the top of her head, and rocked slightly, moving my cock a little bit in her cunt. She moaned slightly, and rocked a little bit in response.

“Now we’re going to talk.”

“Couldn’t we just fuck?” she asked.

“We could. But not yet. Now listen.”

As we talked, I held her in my arms, gently rocking, and feeling her grip my cock inside her. It felt amazing. I wondered if it was going to last.

I cleared my throat, took a deep breath, and said, “You are not quite two years older than me, and as near as I can tell, almost an inch taller; an accomplished, but not concert-level, pianist, and, based on what I’ve seen of your body, incredibly fit. You were born in Nyack, New York to Polish immigrants, did your undergraduate degree in physics at Cornell, your masters in cosmology at Princeton, studying with Professor Ferveil, who is a cast-iron son of a bitch, and who made your life hell.

"Then you went to Cambridge on a Fulbright Scholarship to study quantum physics with Professor Liana Talnikova for your Ph.D. At first, you got on well, but over time, she realized that you were even more brilliant than she was, and tried to get you expelled from the program for being a slut, which was a complete lie. The board of governors intervened, due to a few prominent members of the physics faculty vouching for your brilliance, and you graduated with 1st class honors.

“You went from one institute to another, both in Europe and America, destroying theories and making enemies as you do not suffer fools gladly, plus you didn’t try to hide how smart you are as most women scientists do. You wound up here at the Institute of Advanced Studies – Einstein’s old haunt – when one of the members of the Fulbright board learned that the Chinese were aggressively recruiting you. He had a word with someone in the Defense Department, who had a word with the Board of the Institute, which has some significant DoD contracts. The Institute informed your future colleagues you were being hired.

“That almost caused a full-fledged riot. Your reputation preceded you. The support staff loves you, but most of your colleagues loathe you with a white-hot passion, largely because you’re a woman, and because most of them are afraid you’re going to show them up.

“Time Magazine did a front-cover profile of you, calling you the enfant terrible of quantum physics, and describing you as one of the most brilliant people alive today.”

“And, I would add, one of the most beautiful…”

Her eyes showed hot rage, and she was starting to struggle to get up.

I grabbed her shoulders and pulled her back down, and finished, “…and certainly the most fuckable woman I’ve ever encountered.”

She stopped, but was still looking daggers at me, then said, “That’s it, you are a fucking stalker. I’m leaving.”

And started to unwind herself again.

I pulled her back, hard, and said, loudly, “Can you see that clock by the side of the bed?”

She stopped, looked, and said, “Yeah, so what?”

“What time does it say?

She glanced at it, “8:47.”

“So, it’s still before noon, then?”

She paused, then continued to struggle, “If you think I’m going to…”

“You promised me you’d do anything, anything at all, if I would just fuck you, didn’t you?”

She stopped, then dropped her eyes, blushed, and said, “Yes.”

“Then you will stay here with me until noon, and please listen to what I have to say. At one minute after noon, I will return your clothes to you, and drive you wherever you want, or call for, and pay for, a cab to take you wherever you want, and never bother you again, if that is what you want.

“But until then, you are, and you will remain, my slave. Understood?” There was both anger and iron in my voice, and she heard it.

There was a long pause, then she said, very quietly, “Yes, Sir.”

“I will let you move off of me if you wish. I will not have carnal knowledge of a woman who has said, or even hinted, at ‘no’. Do you wish to leave The Well-Spring?”

She kept looking down, moving her jaw, then settled back onto my lap and my cock, clasped her hands to her chest as if she was cold, and said, very quietly, “Please let me stay.”

I hugged her, hard, and started, “I’m very afraid…” and stopped.

After a moment, she looked up. “You’re very afraid…?”

I swallowed. “Marta, I’m very afraid I’m falling in love with you. And I’m petrified that will scare you off.”

She went wide-eyed and seemed to stop breathing.

I kissed her lips, lightly. After a moment, she leaned forward and kissed me back, lightly.

I continued, “I didn’t plan any of this. Not in my wildest dreams did I ever imagine that something like this would happen, could happen! I was hoping I’d get to ask you my question, and perhaps have a short discussion with you.”

After a moment, she smiled a smug, wicked smile, and said, “I doubt very much you would understand the answer as about the only way to explain it is with very, very complicated mathematics. Most people don’t realize that words just don’t work for quantum mechanics.”

By the end of this statement, she was sounding dreadfully condescending. I guessed it came as a habit developed from defending herself from so many males – and females! – who couldn’t keep up with her, and resented it.

I paused. “Perhaps not. But I’ve been fascinated by quantum physics ever since high school, where my physics teacher first introduced me to the basic concepts. I studied it in university, and wanted to do research in it, but I don’t have a talent for physics. But I’m still fascinated by it, and need to know what it means!”

She stared at me. “That’s my line,” she said. “I’m driven by it against my will. That’s why I’m such a bitch, why I’ve wrecked reputations, and been kicked out of research labs. I need to know why the universe is this way!”

She paused, then said very softly but with enormous intensity, “It haunts me. I have to know! I’ll crush anyone who gets in my way of knowing, anyone who wants to play college politics rather than do the work. I have to know!”

She looked at me, and her eyes softened. “And you do, too, apparently.”

I nodded, then added, “Now imagine having the same need to know – but without having the talent to do the work.”

She looked at me again, almost as if seeing me for the first time. Her eyes started to fill with tears. “Poor you…” she whispered, putting her hand to my cheek.

I didn’t know whether to thank her or tear her head off. I just nodded.

“That’s why I wanted to talk to the world’s greatest authority,” I said. “The person most likely to be able to help me. Why I was so eager to talk to you. And why I got so rip-shit angry when you blew me off.”

She sagged, and leaned her head forward onto my chest.

“I’m so, so very sorry. Please forgive me.”

I smiled at that, then playfully rocked back and forth enough that she could feel my cock sliding in and out of her. “I’m very glad you did.

“Marta, please forgive me, but I really do think I am falling in love with you, even though you scare the shit out of me.”

Now it was her turn to be quiet. She kept her head down, and finally gave a ragged exhale and said, in a small voice, “Why would I scare you? I’m the one who’s broken.”

I lifted her chin. “There is no way in hell you are broken, girl. You are brilliant, and if those others can’t accept that, then screw them. You’re the one who is whole; they’re the ones that don’t measure up.”

She looked up at me and smiled through her tears. Then kissed me.

“Thank you. Thank you for saying that. Thank you for getting angry with me, and not letting me get away with my usual, arrogant bullshit. And…”

She paused, for a long time. I waited.

“… and thank you for dominating me, hurting me so good, and fucking me so hard. It answers something within me that I don’t understand, but desperately need, and have desperately missed.”

She looked down again. “I think I understand myself less than I understand quantum physics.”

I nodded, then said, “That’s not an uncommon feeling. I have similar feelings myself. I’m a kind, generous, loving man, but there is a dark place within me that wants to hurt and dominate. I normally keep that troll locked tight away, out of sight.

“But you, Miss World’s-Greatest Genius, you grabbed the troll by the throat, and pulled him out of me with two sentences. I could no more help that part of me blazing forth than I could stop breathing. I wanted to dominate you. I still need to dominate and hurt you, even as I find myself falling hard for you and wanting to care for and protect you from all the assholes around you.”

One of the tears brimming in her eyes started to roll down her cheek. She leaned forward again and kissed me, hard, hugging me tight.

Then, after a while, she dropped her head and looked down. “Master, would you please do something for your slave?”

Surprised, I waited her out.

“I want you to punish me. I spoke when I shouldn’t have, when I begged you to stop spanking me. I cried out after you forbade me to make a sound when you hurt me. I closed my legs when you told me you knew my name, after you had ordered me to keep them open.

“I have disobeyed you. Please punish me for disappointing you. Please.

“I need you to hurt me!”

Then she waited.

To be continued…