My thanks to EnglishRose28, for her guidance and candor about where my story crossed the line from hot to scary, especially when it came to her luscious nipples.
I’m seated on a small armless chair in the center of the room, and you stand before me, your beautiful hazel eyes cast downward in supplication. You wait for my instructions, and with a slight nod I bid you to proceed. You turn away from me, reach up under your dress with both hands, and pull your panties down as far as you can, just below your knees. With an exaggerated motion, you bend over fully now, let them slide to your ankles, and then, straightening, slide each of your high heeled shoes through them and kick them aside. You know it is my wish that the stockings stay.
You adore the thigh high stockings that I insist you to wear now anyway, knowing how good they look on your long legs, knowing how naughty you look with them on. I like you to wear the elastic welt stockings, freeing you from the nuisance of a garter belt. I insisted that I wanted as little as possible blocking my access to your pussy. Your panties may be a necessity at times, though the lighter and silkier, the better. But when I reach beneath your skirt, or instruct you to do the same, there would be nothing more between my/your fingers and your waiting slit. You’ve also found the thrill of when my lips and tongue travel up them, that divine moment when they cross the welt and first touch your hot, searing naked flesh half way up your thigh.
I pat my lap, and you come to me, standing, waiting for my next command. It is one word; kneel. My legs are spread as you kneel between them. If my pants were not still on, if I was not resolute in my other plans for you, it would be most tempting to grab all I could of your luscious blond hair and begin using your full, painted lips and mouth. Instead I reach out for your nipples, and with my first hard squeeze of one your eyes flutter and your lips part in a silent moan. I reach for my drink on the end table behind me, and from it I pluck a barely melted ice cube. I trace it across your lips, let you feel the wet cold, so in contrast to the warm moisture I know is already building inside you. It is at your nipple next, already sore and swollen from my fingers, and your gasp as it touches you tells me all. A few moments of the ice and your little bud is now painfully hard and erect. I attach a clamp to it, making sure it is tight enough to avoid falling off anytime soon. I repeat it all on your other nipple, taking my time, enjoying both the effects on you and the symmetry. I had a blindfold next to me as well, but I’ve changed my mind. Soon, in your next position, the chain between the clamps will be bobbing up and down, captured by gravity and released by your spasms. I want you to be able to watch them bob, my dear. I want you to be hypnotized by their graceful movements. As the chain descends, just before pulling on your sore, sensitive nipples, I want you to anticipate the coming sharp jolt of pleasure and pain that will go straight to your clit.
Your breasts now attended to, I pat my lap again, and you take your position, laying face down across my knees. The height of the chair is perfect. Your arms and your legs reach out to balance yourself, your hands and feet just reaching the floor. The chain on the clamps sags, bouncing slightly a foot off the floor. Perfect. You slide and shimmy and adjust yourself, making a pretense of getting settled, when I know you hope to begin my arousal, make sure that your crotch is pressed tightly against my own, hoping to enjoy the bulge of my cock once we begin. You can’t get comfortable. Soon it won’t matter, little one. Soon your thoughts will be elsewhere.
I say nothing to you, but my hands begin their slow litany of enjoyment of your body. My left hand massages your back and neck, relaxing your tensed muscles. My right hand strokes up and down your lovely, stocking clad legs. Each stroke rising a little higher. Finding and teasing the soft flesh just above the welt. Enjoying the fine line between to cool silkiness of the fabric and the moist heat of your flesh. Gliding over the firm, taut flesh of your gorgeous, anxious butt. My finger slides deep into your crack to tease the rim of your puckered rosebud. (Whack!) The spank brings a yelp, the bounce of the weights a long moan, and my fingers straying over the lips of your pussy a deep shiver. They are distinct now, but very soon it will all blend deliciously together. Whack!
Do you remember the very first spanking I gave you, my precious lucy? That very first evening when we finally met? You were such a naughty girl that day. Remember at the airport hotel restaurant? After all our incendiary emails, after traversing an ocean that had kept us apart until then, it was our first moment physically together. Our hug came freely, but our first kiss was quite hesitant. As we walked through the restaurant, making our way to the bar in the rear, I saw an open, unoccupied dining room. I pulled you inside, pushed you against the wall, and kissed you hard. Do you remember? My hands roamed freely over your body. Groping, kneading, massaging your breasts, twisting your nipples through the fabric. My lips at your throat, hard insistent kisses. My fingers under your skirt, pushing your panties aside, finding your pussy, wet, open, waiting. You groaned. You submitted. You let me have my way. Such an easy little tart.
We weren’t long in getting back to our room. I stood behind you, my arms wrapping you tight, my hands roaming as they pleased, needing no permission.
I’m seated on a small armless chair in the center of the room, and you stand before me, your beautiful hazel eyes cast downward in supplication. You wait for my instructions, and with a slight nod I bid you to proceed. You turn away from me, reach up under your dress with both hands, and pull your panties down as far as you can, just below your knees. With an exaggerated motion, you bend over fully now, let them slide to your ankles, and then, straightening, slide each of your high heeled shoes through them and kick them aside. You know it is my wish that the stockings stay.
You adore the thigh high stockings that I insist you to wear now anyway, knowing how good they look on your long legs, knowing how naughty you look with them on. I like you to wear the elastic welt stockings, freeing you from the nuisance of a garter belt. I insisted that I wanted as little as possible blocking my access to your pussy. Your panties may be a necessity at times, though the lighter and silkier, the better. But when I reach beneath your skirt, or instruct you to do the same, there would be nothing more between my/your fingers and your waiting slit. You’ve also found the thrill of when my lips and tongue travel up them, that divine moment when they cross the welt and first touch your hot, searing naked flesh half way up your thigh.
I pat my lap, and you come to me, standing, waiting for my next command. It is one word; kneel. My legs are spread as you kneel between them. If my pants were not still on, if I was not resolute in my other plans for you, it would be most tempting to grab all I could of your luscious blond hair and begin using your full, painted lips and mouth. Instead I reach out for your nipples, and with my first hard squeeze of one your eyes flutter and your lips part in a silent moan. I reach for my drink on the end table behind me, and from it I pluck a barely melted ice cube. I trace it across your lips, let you feel the wet cold, so in contrast to the warm moisture I know is already building inside you. It is at your nipple next, already sore and swollen from my fingers, and your gasp as it touches you tells me all. A few moments of the ice and your little bud is now painfully hard and erect. I attach a clamp to it, making sure it is tight enough to avoid falling off anytime soon. I repeat it all on your other nipple, taking my time, enjoying both the effects on you and the symmetry. I had a blindfold next to me as well, but I’ve changed my mind. Soon, in your next position, the chain between the clamps will be bobbing up and down, captured by gravity and released by your spasms. I want you to be able to watch them bob, my dear. I want you to be hypnotized by their graceful movements. As the chain descends, just before pulling on your sore, sensitive nipples, I want you to anticipate the coming sharp jolt of pleasure and pain that will go straight to your clit.
Your breasts now attended to, I pat my lap again, and you take your position, laying face down across my knees. The height of the chair is perfect. Your arms and your legs reach out to balance yourself, your hands and feet just reaching the floor. The chain on the clamps sags, bouncing slightly a foot off the floor. Perfect. You slide and shimmy and adjust yourself, making a pretense of getting settled, when I know you hope to begin my arousal, make sure that your crotch is pressed tightly against my own, hoping to enjoy the bulge of my cock once we begin. You can’t get comfortable. Soon it won’t matter, little one. Soon your thoughts will be elsewhere.
I say nothing to you, but my hands begin their slow litany of enjoyment of your body. My left hand massages your back and neck, relaxing your tensed muscles. My right hand strokes up and down your lovely, stocking clad legs. Each stroke rising a little higher. Finding and teasing the soft flesh just above the welt. Enjoying the fine line between to cool silkiness of the fabric and the moist heat of your flesh. Gliding over the firm, taut flesh of your gorgeous, anxious butt. My finger slides deep into your crack to tease the rim of your puckered rosebud. (Whack!) The spank brings a yelp, the bounce of the weights a long moan, and my fingers straying over the lips of your pussy a deep shiver. They are distinct now, but very soon it will all blend deliciously together. Whack!
Do you remember the very first spanking I gave you, my precious lucy? That very first evening when we finally met? You were such a naughty girl that day. Remember at the airport hotel restaurant? After all our incendiary emails, after traversing an ocean that had kept us apart until then, it was our first moment physically together. Our hug came freely, but our first kiss was quite hesitant. As we walked through the restaurant, making our way to the bar in the rear, I saw an open, unoccupied dining room. I pulled you inside, pushed you against the wall, and kissed you hard. Do you remember? My hands roamed freely over your body. Groping, kneading, massaging your breasts, twisting your nipples through the fabric. My lips at your throat, hard insistent kisses. My fingers under your skirt, pushing your panties aside, finding your pussy, wet, open, waiting. You groaned. You submitted. You let me have my way. Such an easy little tart.
We weren’t long in getting back to our room. I stood behind you, my arms wrapping you tight, my hands roaming as they pleased, needing no permission.
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My lips kissed softly up your neck, until they found your ears. Then my whispers began, past your crumbling defenses and straight inside your mind. Telling you how delicious I would make you feel. Telling you how I understood your needs, your desires, your cravings. All you need to do is let go. Let me take control. Submit. You let me in, little girl. You let my words and my naughty, nasty promises inside your head. You let my kisses and licks slowly melt your willpower and resolve. You let my fingers and my tongue arouse you, leaving you needy, wanting, willing. You let me toy with you. Bringing you over and over to the edge of your release, then making you beg for it. Making you promise me anything for just one more long lick across your swollen clit, one more deep thrust of my fingers. Anything if I’ll please let you come. Until you found yourself much as you are now.
“Such a needy, shameless little whore you are. You let a dark, handsome, strange man inside your head. You let him fill your weak and silly mind with such thoughts. Thoughts of lust, thoughts of desire, thoughts of needy, wet wanton sex. (Whack!) You give up control to him. You let him control your mind, your fingers….your pussy. (Whack!) You promise him anything, just to get your release. (Whack! My fingers roam down between your legs. Finding you wet, aroused. In between my spankings, my hand and fingers softly caress your hot, stinging flesh, smearing your juices over your burning skin. Whack!) You let his hands roam your weak, needy body at will. Let his fingers taunt and tease your greedy wicked pussy. (Whack!) And when he makes you come, you beg him for more.
“And now look at yourself, little girl. Spread over his knees, your panties gone. Your hot, red ass waiting to feel the sting of his next spanking. Grinding your mindless cunt against him. Praying he’ll fuck you when he’s done. ( My spanking is done now, there’s just my soft caress, my taunting words, your need) And in the end, when his hand finds your pussy, little girl, once again it’s hot, wet, open, willing, wanting.”
You realize my hand is under you again, two fingers buried deep inside you, stroking, a deep, steady rhythm. So very, very wet. Your body starts to sync with it. I wet my thumb with your juices, work it slowly, insistently, deep inside your tight ass. Then out. Then in. Finding the rhythm of my fingers, only now they’re at your clit. Stroking, teasing. I’m pumping you hard now. The weights bounce and torment with each thrust. I can hear your breathing getting ragged. Feel your body begin to tense. Feel you rise up to meet my thrusts. “Come for me, little girl. Show me what a naughty, needy, greedy little slut you really are. Come hard for me.”
As I feel the spasms begin to take over your body, I reach into our bag of toys, still lying open from the nipple clamps. You’re just starting to gush when you feel the tip of the vibrator tease your lips further open. There’s a hesitation in you, an eternity that lies inside the context of much less than a second. I slam the vibe inside you, thrust to its’ depth in one push. I only wish I could see your eyes roll back into your head, as I know they’re doing. I see in my mind how sexy you must look. Your moan starts with nothing more than a full expelling of air, an almost silent moan, but soon build to the harsh, animal grunts and noises that I long to draw from you endlessly.
“Who’s slut are you?” It takes you a moment to realize I’m speaking. Even longer to realize your expected to reply. Longer still to be sure of the answer. I twist the vibe and snap you back to the moment. Remember Lucy. Remember your training I tell you telepathically.
“Yours, Sir” I give the vibe another deep thrust.
“Who’s whore are you?” This time you do not hesistate.
“Yours, Sir”
“Who owns your cunt, your ass, your body, your mind, your soul?” Each word is punctuated with a deep thrust.
“You do, Sir. You do.”
You’re cumming helplessly now. Your words mixed with sobs mixed with moans mixed with cries of passion and pleasure. And it has all taken me far beyond my own lines of self control. I lift you, my arm under your breasts and my hand cupped under your cunt. Your still cumming. I lay you over the arm of the chair, your face in the center. As I release you, you melt into it, not just from the lack of strength to stand, but the weights on your clamps have pulled taut again. I’ve heard the cry, felt the spasm, and you’ve buried your face into the chair to slacken the chains. Your toes can barely reach the ground this way. And your bewitching, intoxicating ass, red and swollen though it may be, is thrust out before me, a most magnificent offering.
It is what I desire. What I shall have. It is mine. And as one long climax begins to recede, you realize this as you feel me part your cheeks, lube your bud, and press the head of my cock against it. I’ve waited, I’ve held on to control, but now I am beyond reason. I push, you yield, and I am inside you. Where I belong. Unleashing my fury on you. Driving into you. Each thrust into your tight, slutty ass driving the vibe pressed up against the arm of the chair deep into your cunt as well. And soon, filling you with my seed. Flooding you with it. Hoping miraculously to impregnate you through your bowels and brand you as forever, forever mine. My precious angel. My filthy whore.
“Such a needy, shameless little whore you are. You let a dark, handsome, strange man inside your head. You let him fill your weak and silly mind with such thoughts. Thoughts of lust, thoughts of desire, thoughts of needy, wet wanton sex. (Whack!) You give up control to him. You let him control your mind, your fingers….your pussy. (Whack!) You promise him anything, just to get your release. (Whack! My fingers roam down between your legs. Finding you wet, aroused. In between my spankings, my hand and fingers softly caress your hot, stinging flesh, smearing your juices over your burning skin. Whack!) You let his hands roam your weak, needy body at will. Let his fingers taunt and tease your greedy wicked pussy. (Whack!) And when he makes you come, you beg him for more.
“And now look at yourself, little girl. Spread over his knees, your panties gone. Your hot, red ass waiting to feel the sting of his next spanking. Grinding your mindless cunt against him. Praying he’ll fuck you when he’s done. ( My spanking is done now, there’s just my soft caress, my taunting words, your need) And in the end, when his hand finds your pussy, little girl, once again it’s hot, wet, open, willing, wanting.”
You realize my hand is under you again, two fingers buried deep inside you, stroking, a deep, steady rhythm. So very, very wet. Your body starts to sync with it. I wet my thumb with your juices, work it slowly, insistently, deep inside your tight ass. Then out. Then in. Finding the rhythm of my fingers, only now they’re at your clit. Stroking, teasing. I’m pumping you hard now. The weights bounce and torment with each thrust. I can hear your breathing getting ragged. Feel your body begin to tense. Feel you rise up to meet my thrusts. “Come for me, little girl. Show me what a naughty, needy, greedy little slut you really are. Come hard for me.”
As I feel the spasms begin to take over your body, I reach into our bag of toys, still lying open from the nipple clamps. You’re just starting to gush when you feel the tip of the vibrator tease your lips further open. There’s a hesitation in you, an eternity that lies inside the context of much less than a second. I slam the vibe inside you, thrust to its’ depth in one push. I only wish I could see your eyes roll back into your head, as I know they’re doing. I see in my mind how sexy you must look. Your moan starts with nothing more than a full expelling of air, an almost silent moan, but soon build to the harsh, animal grunts and noises that I long to draw from you endlessly.
“Who’s slut are you?” It takes you a moment to realize I’m speaking. Even longer to realize your expected to reply. Longer still to be sure of the answer. I twist the vibe and snap you back to the moment. Remember Lucy. Remember your training I tell you telepathically.
“Yours, Sir” I give the vibe another deep thrust.
“Who’s whore are you?” This time you do not hesistate.
“Yours, Sir”
“Who owns your cunt, your ass, your body, your mind, your soul?” Each word is punctuated with a deep thrust.
“You do, Sir. You do.”
You’re cumming helplessly now. Your words mixed with sobs mixed with moans mixed with cries of passion and pleasure. And it has all taken me far beyond my own lines of self control. I lift you, my arm under your breasts and my hand cupped under your cunt. Your still cumming. I lay you over the arm of the chair, your face in the center. As I release you, you melt into it, not just from the lack of strength to stand, but the weights on your clamps have pulled taut again. I’ve heard the cry, felt the spasm, and you’ve buried your face into the chair to slacken the chains. Your toes can barely reach the ground this way. And your bewitching, intoxicating ass, red and swollen though it may be, is thrust out before me, a most magnificent offering.
It is what I desire. What I shall have. It is mine. And as one long climax begins to recede, you realize this as you feel me part your cheeks, lube your bud, and press the head of my cock against it. I’ve waited, I’ve held on to control, but now I am beyond reason. I push, you yield, and I am inside you. Where I belong. Unleashing my fury on you. Driving into you. Each thrust into your tight, slutty ass driving the vibe pressed up against the arm of the chair deep into your cunt as well. And soon, filling you with my seed. Flooding you with it. Hoping miraculously to impregnate you through your bowels and brand you as forever, forever mine. My precious angel. My filthy whore.
