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Bella Donna Ch. 01

By: jalaurie



You were waiting by Bella Donna when I walked out of the terminal, leaning against her passenger side door with a smile on your face. As you handed me her keys and I opened the door to let you in, I took a moment to admire the short black skirt and deep red blouse you were wearing. You managed the transition without unintentionally flashing me. As short as that skirt was, I was impressed.

I walked around to the driver's side of Bella. This was my first time seeing her. I appreciated her sleek lines, the power under her hood, and she seemed happy to know me, as well. I could feel her pleasure as I slid into her. I was in the driver's seat. My seat. My natural place in her life...and in yours.

She started up with a throaty roar. Before shifting her into gear I took a look at you. You were sitting with your back to the door. Without me needing to ask, you lifted your ass, slid your tight skirt up and spread your legs, letting me see the black lace panties I had selected. One look back up at your eyes told me everything I needed to know at that point. You wanted me. Right then, right there, you wanted me, but I was going to make you wait. I planned to make you beg before you had me inside you. Between your thighs, at least.

As I drove, weaving through traffic, we talked about inconsequential things. The weather (it was hot), politics (more lies, more arrests, no convictions), your friends' problems (whiny bitches all, but I didn't point that out; you already knew). I rested my hand on your knee at first, but, as the conversation grew more and more trivial, my hand slid further up your thigh. By the time we were discussing Robin's issues with Tim, and whether she was going to marry him or dump him, neither of us really cared. I could feel the wet heat coming off you. I could feel the lace of your panties. 

As I stroked, you were having a hard time breathing. Never touching you intimately, only caressing your thigh, I intentionally timed my motions to break the rhythm of your speech. Finally, you stopped talking for a moment. You took a deep breath to settle yourself.

"What do you want me to do?" you asked. "Whatever you want, I'll do it. Just tell me."

I laughed. 

"Well, you could decide what you want for brunch." 

We had arrived at Entwine, your favorite bar. Perhaps not as romantic for brunch as for after work drinks or an intimate late dinner, but it would do for today.

We sat at the bar, but apart from the other few patrons. You had a glass of white wine. I had water. We didn't order much to eat. I was a little tired, a little put off from the long flight. You...well, you were nervous, a little flighty yourself. I could tell that the idea of fulfilling our plans, your plans really, was exciting you. And scaring you a little. 

Finally, I allowed the conversation to turn to what was in store for you. 

There is something incredible erotic about sitting in a quiet, upscale bar discussing the details of a beautiful woman's subjugation. Letting her tell you what she fantasizes about. Knowing that the actions are only half the fantasy. The better half of the fantasy is that you are the man she wants to do these things to her. You are the man she needs to do these things to her. 

I reveled in the awesome beauty of explaining to you what it means to give your complete submission; what it means to be the master who accepts it.

In time, you told me about your loneliness, about your need to be held, to be comforted, to be taken roughly, to be restrained. To be punished when you are bad. I knew all of this already, but today was about the journey, not the destination. You needed to tell me again. In person. You needed to finally make the possibility of satisfaction real in your mind.

I'll never forget the look on your face as you told me how badly you wanted me. 

As you talked, the light struck your face at an oblique angle, casting shadows that moved around your lips. I listened, I truly did, but your lips fascinated me. As I watched the shadows play around your face, your wet lips glistening, I imagined those lips wrapped around me. I imagined your tongue working me, your throat capturing and releasing me again and again. I imagined you pleasing me with the same focus, the same excitement, the same animation you were showing while talking about your needs and your fantasies. The experience was nearly overwhelming. 

With your right hand, you swirled your wine as you talked. With your left, you played with the top button of your blouse. When you saw me notice, you undid the button and let your blouse fall open just a little. Your bra was black and lacy, matching your panties. I couldn't quite see the nipple of your right breast, but I could see the fullness of it. I lifted my eyes to meet yours. Your smile was stunning. 

Have you ever tried to look straight into the sun? If you have, then you'll understand what that smile did to me. I had to look away. I had to look back down to your breast. That wasn't a bad option. Not a bad option at all. 

After about thirty seconds of silence, you easily refastened the button. 

I was sitting to your left, turned to face you, my back to the wall, my left arm on the bar. The entrance to the bar, all the employees and other patrons of the bar were to your right. No one else had even noticed. The show was just for me. 

At that point the awesome reality struck me. I was going to have you. Today. Tonight. Tomorrow. All of the above. You were planning to give me your body, had already decided to give me everything, one way or the other. There was only question. Would I be your lover... or your Master? That was a decision you hadn't quite made. 

Either option was fine with me. 

I surreptitiously glanced around. At least half the men in the bar were watching you. A couple had the decency to glance away when they saw me looking, but the rest were too enraptured to even notice that I saw them staring. Even the obviously gay waiter was fascinated. One asshole was doing his best to get a glimpse up your skirt. He definitely looked away, startled, embarrassed, when I gave him a hard look.

As our brunch came to a close, I explained what I would expect of you as my slave. I studied your reactions closely as we discussed how your submission would play out. I found your limits, your boundaries. All in a lighthearted discussion that could have been just two business associates talking about office politics. I was pleasantly surprised by your openness to bondage, to pain. I knew submission would be an option and we had discussed your need to be spanked, but today, on the eve of your initiation, I expected some hesitation, some pulling back. There was none. You knew what you wanted. Nothing was taken off the table.

I never asked you to make a decision, to give me a yes or no answer. I simply explained that a girl who wanted to belong to me would need to bring me a gift. The gift I preferred was a pair of panties. The panties she was wearing right then. I saw the understanding dawn in your eyes. Suddenly you knew why your wardrobe had been so meticulously chosen. Why I asked you to wear a skirt. Your cheeks colored as you realized why I asked you to wear your shortest skirt. 

I turned back to finish the last few bites of my meal. You sipped your wine. The silence was comfortable, pleasant, but charged with a tingling tension.

I felt you slip your hand into mine, holding, squeezing me. The squeezing took on a rhythm, as if you hand were unconsciously telegraphing the scene in your mind. Your right hand gripped the edge of the bar. I felt your rhythm slow, become more intense. You gave me one last long, powerful squeeze, then released me. Taking up the glass with the same hand, you finished your wine. 

You leaned over and whispered, "I'll be right back."

I watched you walk to the ladies room. So did everyone else.

I settled our tab and waited. It wasn't a long wait, nor was it uncomfortable. I felt no stress, no sense of pressure. There was no worry in my mind. I knew I was going to have you. It was just a matter of... setting the scene. 

Would the scene be sweet? Gentle? Two lovers having a quiet getaway? Or would it be more raw? A master and his slave, her body submissive to his every wish. Restraint. Reward. Punishment for disobedience.

Either way, I was going to be undressing, touching, entering that beautiful body. Entering that beautiful woman. I was going to be entering you.

I looked around one last time at all the men who had been staring at you. Every one of those fuckers was wishing he was me. The ones who noticed got a small nod. They knew what it meant and several gave me a nod back; perhaps a little embarrassed to have been caught staring, but appreciative of my acknowledgement, my understanding that they just couldn't help themselves. I truly did understand. I stared the first time I saw you, too.

Then I caught the eye of the asshole. He got another hard look. Not a threat. A promise. He knew what that look meant. He apparently had already settled his tab, or maybe he was just a cheap bastard; he glanced longingly towards the ladies room, set his drink down and hurried out. I watched him through the door. He never looked back. Too bad.

Your return was like the sunrise, brightening the entire room. You were a little self-conscious. You noticed this time, at least subliminally, that you were the center of attention as you slowly crossed the room. You sat down, carefully turned to me, and waited for the room to calm down, to return to normal. Finally, all the men, and some of the women, lowered their eyes back to their conversations and dates.

We chatted quietly for a few minutes, then you touched my face with your right hand. You looked into my eyes for a moment without speaking. I felt your left hand reach for mine. You placed something small, soft, and warm into the palm of my hand. Without looking, I knew it was your panties. With your body facing mine, shielding you from the rest of the bar, you spread your legs a little. I glanced down. I could see a lot of thigh, but not high enough to see you exposed. That was OK. It's the thought that counts.

Lifting my chin, you leaned over, kissed me gently, and whispered, "I'll do whatever you want, Master."

First, I took you shopping.

Bella Donna Ch. 02



I had no intention of making our shopping trip a long one, just long enough to get you off balance. I know how private a person you are. The idea of walking around an upscale outdoor mall in a skirt without any panties on was bound to make you self-conscious, a little unsure of yourself. If you were willing, it would be a testament to your trust in me, your submission to my will. 

The experience would be challenging for you, but better for you to change your mind now than to change it two or three hours into our games. Changing your mind that late could ruin our relationship forever. 

Luckily, for you anyway, it was not a very windy day. The sky was clear and blue, the sun bright in the sky. We stood and walked out of Entwine, you on my arm, being shown off as the trophy that you truly are. You were aware of the eyes watching you, feeling yourself exposed although everything was covered up. I stood in front of you on the escalator down to the ground floor. There was no need to give some sixteen year old kid the shot of his life there at the mall. And I would hate to be responsible for some old geezer dying of a heart attack on the up escalator... with a smile on his face.

You clung closely to my back all the way down and turned to go the car. You still didn't know that we were going shopping. The look on your face was priceless as I led you in the other direction. After a few moments, you understood and even seemed to get into the thrill of the situation. As the light wind blew, I could tell it was tickling you under your skirt. You handled it with good-natured aplomb. 

We window shopped for about ten minutes, stopping off in a few stores to look around. 

I bought you a pair of earrings that would go well with your heels. You got the joke. I think the saleslady did as well, but she was much too professional to react. 

You looked at me in panic as I offered to let you try on shoes. It was only a joke, and we let the shoe salesman live the rest of his life in ignorance of the pleasures beneath your skirt.

When the valet brought Bella around I could tell that she approved of the change in your wardrobe. She even acted a little jealous. The valet almost lost a couple of fingers as her door slammed shut before he was finished with his nonchalant positioning for a quick peek up your skirt. I found that I couldn't begrudge him the attempt. It's one of the few perks of his job.

Bella seemed to be trying to bring you to orgasm all the way back to your apartment. She was running rough, with a lot more vibration than was really necessary. It's very possible she has lesbian tendencies. I didn't complain though. You were clearly enjoying the ride. 

At the first stoplight there were no other cars around. I had you slide your skirt up so your ass was sitting bare on the passenger seat. Bella nearly purred in her satisfaction. I swear to God she wriggled as we pulled away from the light. 

As I drove, I told you about the behaviors that distinguish a good girl from a bad girl. Your training was beginning and I could tell you truly wanted to learn how to please me.

At my direction, you sat with your legs apart. You were still covered by your skirt, just barely, but a good girl's legs should always be open for her master's pleasure. She should be ready at a moment's notice, or even with no notice at all. At each stop I had you lift your skirt and show me the wonder underneath it. While I was driving, I kept my hand on your thigh, sliding it a little closer to heaven all the while. I was trying to time it such that I would be touching you intimately just as we pulled into your parking space. 

At several of the stoplights, I let you touch yourself, but only when I was watching. Good girls should not touch themselves sexually unless their master is there to watch and supervise. Bad girls touch themselves all the time, even unsupervised. If I caught you being bad like that, you would need punishment. We had discussed punishment and you knew you would almost certainly break the rules at some point. I didn't want to punish you today, though. This day was about pleasure, not pain. Not much pain, anyway.

Between my teasing you and Bella trying to vibrate you into orgasm, you were whimpering with need long before we got to your apartment. A good master plans, but sometimes has to improvise, adjust to changing situations. I realized that a little modification was in order. I pulled into the next empty parking lot and parked far from any other cars. Turning to you, I watched.

Your legs spread immediately as your hands flew into your lap. Adjusting your body so that I could see every movement, every second of your fun, you showed me how you pleasure yourself. Spreading your lips with your left hand, you found your clit with your right middle finger and began to stroke. In a few moments, you closed your eyes and leaned back against the passenger door, but I corrected you. A good girl always looks at her master's face when she is presenting herself in a show. How else could she know what he likes, what he enjoys about her presentation? With eyes closed, how could she know if she displeased him? 

You locked your eyes on mine as you fondled yourself. Your left hand went into your bra. I could see you brushing your fingertips quickly and gently over your small pink nipple. Well, I couldn't see the nipple, but I could see the motion. It was distracting. A failure on your part, but one I chose to ignore for the moment. There would be plenty of time for correction later. 

I pulled out my camera and documented the show for my later enjoyment. 

Your vagina was beautiful. Looking at those pictures now, it entrances me. But, while the close-ups are stunning, again and again I find myself drawn to the pictures that included your face. I am amazed at the passion I see in your eyes, the raw desire you felt for me in that moment. 

You were moaning. Whispering to yourself. Whispering to me. Begging me. You sounded like an angel. An angel begging to be fucked by the Devil himself. 

I could sense you losing control, fighting to keep your eyes open and locked on my face. Once, then twice, I reminded you. The third time your eyes closed I reached under you and pinched your ass. Not too hard, but hard enough to make your eyes fly open. And stay open.

Again, you begged me to help, to touch you, caress you. To lick you. I declined. This time, this moment, was about you demonstrating your pleasure. I only wanted to watch, to learn how you made love to yourself, so that I could duplicate the rhythm later. I'm a fast learner.

Your orgasm was approaching. This was the moment I had been waiting for. I had planned for it to arrive in your apartment, but Bella Donna, the high-octane little bitch, had vibrated you too close to orgasm. In Hollywood actors say, "Never work with kids or animals." I mentally added lesbian-leaning automobiles to the list. 

Your body clenched, your breathe was rasping in your throat. You called my name again and again. This was it! I placed my hand on yours, stopping you seconds before your pleasure peaked. For a moment you fought me. 

There was a look of magnificent anguish on your face. 

My heart ached for you to pass this test. Would you stop for me? Would you let the orgasm escape, just because your master wanted it? 

If you wouldn't, if you couldn't, the game was over. We would still enjoy each other's company. I would still possess your body, use your body. I would fill your body until you screamed with pleasure. There might even be a little hanky-spanky. But you would never truly submit. You would never truly be my good girl. I would never be your master. My search would continue.

The moment lasted forever. Our eyes were locked. I hadn't warned you about this test. Locked in the throes of incipient orgasm, this was the moment of your decision. 

I waited.



Bella Donna Ch. 03



My wait was momentary. With a short, sharp gasp, almost a high-pitched groan, you let the orgasm slip away. You gave it to me. 

Sometimes late at night, when sleep will not come, I think about the gifts that have been given to me through the years. In my mind, they reside in a jewelry box. A mundane man might use such a box to hold his money clip, his lodge pin, and knickknacks his children made for him through grade school. Treasures all, no doubt.

My treasures are a little different. My treasures are my memories, my most precious jewels the moments like these, the gifts that my favorite girls have given me. Gifts like your panties, which I returned, by the way. The panties themselves were magnificent. Their texture. The smell of you soaked into them. The way they felt when you rubbed them against me in one of our games, and I against you. But their true power was in the sacrifice they represented. That little part of yourself that you gave to me in the act of baring yourself in public. The lace, the nylon, the silk, all were merely physical manifestations of that sacrifice. You wore them again, I'm sure. Perhaps you showed them to other men. If so, you profaned the physical object, but not the memory.

Some gifts, however, have no physical object and are, therefore, more special. This gift, the gift of your orgasm... gifts like this are purely spiritual. Having no physical manifestation, they exist only in my treasures. They cannot be profaned. And yours, yours is one of the finest I possess. It has been many years, Anna, since I have touched your body. But I touch your spirit every time I reminisce.

As I looked into your eyes that day, the crystal moment shattered. I watched you feel it slip away. I knew you would be mine in every way I desired.

I gave you a moment to gather your composure. A few more photographs, then I directed you to close your legs and settle into your seat. Eyes on me, you waited, quivering. Your breathing uneven, your body not yet recovered from its near brush with ecstasy. You were on the verge of tears. 

I sat thinking, considering you. 

Bella rumbled and purred. She was like a tigress, satisfied with a gallon of cream.

In the relative silence, you began to rub your thighs together, trying to sneak a happy ending in without me noticing. Or, perhaps it was unintentional. Your body seeking to complete what I had given you permission only to start. I allowed it to continue for a short while. 

You bore a bright red handprint on your left thigh for the rest of the afternoon, but the thigh rubbing stopped. 

As I had hoped, the slap put you over the edge. Properly slapping a girl who sexualizes pain is not really a punishment.

I captured a picture of your face as you rode the unexpected spasm of pleasure, then quickly reached in and touched you intimately for the very first time. 

This is a joy most men fail to appreciate, experience, or even understand. Imagine the control, the mastery, the understanding of your lover that is necessary to touch her most intimate places for the first time in the middle of an overwhelming orgasm that you created! To me, this the pinnacle of the art, and with you it was my finest work. 

When I think of you, I am reminded that the finest porcelain is molded from the finest clay. And fired in the hottest kiln.

The heat between your legs was astounding. It was hard to believe that any woman could produce that much heat and still be wet. Yet, you were.

I found the best spot and began to stroke you. I was amazed at your response. Responses. Both vocally and physically, you called my name again and again, each wave taking almost ten seconds. You must have orgasmed for the larger part of a minute. 

As you sat exhausted, recovering, I managed to hide my surprise. I treated this happy circumstance as merely the standard response I expected. Doesn't every woman experience multiple orgasms the first time I touch her? In reality, I was dumbfounded. Amazed. Humbled to be the instigator and facilitator of such a sublime moment. 

The thought came to me that you gave up a single orgasm. I accepted it and then repaid you. With outrageous interest. 

Usurer.



Bella Donna Ch. 04



The short drive to your apartment was quiet, uneventful. I knew from our previous discussions that you were a one-orgasm kind of girl. I was pleasantly surprised at this turn of events. You were...perhaps stunned is the right word.

When we reached your apartment complex, you directed me to your parking spot. Bella slid in like she belonged there; which, of course, she did. 

We sat for a moment as I explained what would happen next. You had heard these instructions before, in fact had prepared your home according to my requirements before leaving to meet me at the airport. You assured me you had the proper toys and accessories waiting by the door.

A thick rug to protect your knees. Ten of my silk ties that I had shipped to you previously. A variety of lubricants on the nearby table. 

I knew where you kept your battery operated boyfriend. I was wearing a sturdy leather belt. 

Everything was in order. 

And, if it wasn't, you would learn. We would repeat this scene every time we returned to your apartment over the next several days. We could come and go again and again. By the end of this visit, you would know how to welcome your Master to your home.

I handed you your panties and had you put them back on. You proved that getting dressed can be almost as much fun as getting undressed.

You waited while I walked around to open your door. My good girl is a lady, and is always treated like a lady. In public, at least.

You were still wearing that short skirt, and again you managed to avoid unintentionally flashing me. It was clearly intentional.

Cheeky. In both senses of the word.

I offered you my left arm, which you accepted, and walked you to the door. I unlocked it, took a quick look inside, and allowed you to enter before me. 

As soon as the door closed, you turned and dropped to your knees. You were enthusiastic, but unpracticed. I could see you appreciated my foresight in having you place the rug. 

Once you were one the ground, you remembered your further instructions.

You fumbled with your skirt, clearing the little bit that was caught between your lower calves and your upper thighs. You remembered to sit with your legs open. Your Master should have free access to you from the front or the back when you are kneeling.

You glanced up at me. An infraction, but I was in a generous mood. You started to slowly unbutton your blouse. At a gestured reminder, your lowered your eyes to the floor.

You only needed your right hand to open your blouse. Your left was flat on your thigh. We would work on the placement a little.

I walked around you. You refrained from following me with your eyes. It was a struggle for you, I could see that, but you accomplished it. 

Once behind you I took a moment to inspect your home. I saw the ties, the toys, laid out in a manner that was pleasing to the eye, which was all the instruction you had been given on that matter. 

You did a much better job with your arrangement than I ever did or could have done. I can recognize and appreciate an eye-pleasing display, but I can rarely create one. My Mistress beat me mercilessly for this failing, but I never learned. It has been many years and I feel that I can share this with you now. 

I turned back to you, reviewed you from behind. In our discussions, prior to today, you had described your body to me in great detail. It was one of my requirements, as was the fact that we never exchanged revealing pictures. Getting off the plane today, I had never seen any part of you but your face. I wanted no preconceived notions, just enough information to find you. Furthermore, I didn't want you drawn to me or pushed away from me by considerations of looks. Our mutual attraction until today was completely related to our "intellectual intercourse" online.

I found that your body was exactly what I wanted. You know your type, you know how your shoulders draw down to your breasts, your hips and thighs. I won't bore you with an inventory, but I will tell you that you are my ideal. I never revealed that to you before, but I want you to know now. No other woman's body has more uniquely fit my vision of perfection than yours, Anna. 

You were a vision of loveliness from behind. I walked around to your front. No change. Loveliness. Exactly what I want and need. Your blouse fully unbuttoned, I could see your bra, your lovely breasts held in restraint by that little bit of lace, grace, and imagination. They were perfectly formed, and just as you had described them, at least as far as I could see. I would know more shortly.

I instructed you to remove your blouse, which you did. I took it, folded it neatly and placed it on the couch.

Next, I had you stand and remove your skirt. You stood before me in just your bra and panties, a matching set. You were exquisite! I was nearly unable to control myself in my lust for you.

"Remove your bra." 

You did. The reality was better than I had imagined. I couldn't hold back any longer. The time had come for me to be satisfied.

Fondling your breasts, I walked around behind you and forced you to your knees again. I felt the need to be rough with you for a while. Opening my pants, I let them drop to the floor. One of the wider ties, a holdover from the 1980's, made a serviceable blindfold. Once it was in place, I turned you around and allowed my cock to caress your face. 

A slight moan escaped your lips. You knew what was touching you, even though you couldn't see it. You brought your hands up to fondle me, but a quick, sharp slap sent them back down to your thighs. This exercise was for your lips alone. Well, your lips and your throat.

Holding your head still, I began to penetrate your mouth, bringing your moaning to a sudden stop. Just a little at first. Just the head inside your lips. The view was magnificent. Your hair was back in a ponytail, which I intended to use later, and I could see every movement of your lips and cheeks. You sucked. You sucked well. I was in control, but you were doing your part, creating pressure on my cock through suction and your expert little tongue. 

I was holding your head with both hands and stroking in and out of your mouth. Just a little deeper with each stroke. 

Your hands kept trying to fly up and help with this blowjob. I could tell that was your preferred methodology, hands and mouth working together. You so wanted to stroke my cock with your fingers as you took me into your mouth, your throat, but that would allow you to be in control. Now, this very moment, was about me controlling you; me being in charge. I knew the position made you feel vulnerable. Your mouth was open, you had no protection, nothing to stop me from shoving my entire member into your throat. It was a very exposed position to be in and I intended to exploit it. I planned to push you to the edge, but not quite cross it. You needed to know that you could trust me. 

Besides, we had negotiated a safe word, safe gestures. If I made a mistake and pushed you too far, you had a way to get out. You weren't restrained at this point. You could pull away if you needed to. But you didn't. With an obvious exertion of will, you kept your hands on your thighs and let me fuck your mouth. Deeper, deeper, I was feeling your throat now. I could tell you had been preparing for this moment. Fingers, bananas, cucumbers; I had instructed you to practice taking things deep in your throat and I could tell that you had.

I felt myself beginning to lose control, but it was much too soon for that. I pulled out of your mouth, leaving you questing for more. I brought you to your feet and led you, still blindfolded, to your bedroom. I knew the layout of your apartment from our previous discussions. You were blind, but you trusted me to protect you as we walked to the bed. I sat you down, then pushed you onto your back, your feet still touching the floor. Then I lifted your legs into the air. I was nearly overcome with the beauty of this position.

I instructed you to hold your knees, keeping them spread apart, as I simply... looked. You were perfect. I ran my hands along your thighs, along your belly. I fondled your breasts, gently caressing around your nipples, but never touching them. They crinkled up, then got harder. You were moaning, trying to move them into the path of my fingertips. Once they were hard enough, I pinched them. Hard. 

I twisted your nipples, not cruelly, but with enough force to make you gasp. Your hips moved in time with my twisting, striving to find a way to touch my body to your intimate places. Finally, I kissed them. Sucking your nipples, biting, making you moan and writhe with the pleasure and pain. 

I began to pull your panties off. I intended to go slowly, but you were at the end of your patience. You released your knees and pulled your panties past your ankles. Throwing your legs apart you practically screamed, "Fuck me, Master, fuck me!"

Not. Quite. Yet.

I turned your body so that your head was hanging off the bed. I could see all of you, every centimeter of your lovely body. I had you hold your knees again. and spread your legs wide. Opening your mouth, I slid my engorged member into you. All the way to your throat, but not so far as to gag you. I began to fuck your mouth again, this time from the top. I could see the bulge under your chin and into your throat as I pushed into you; watch it subside as I withdrew. Your mouth felt like velvet on my skin and I knew I would be finishing soon. 

I leaned over you, my elbows on the bed, and began to kiss your thighs. Close, but not on your most intimate places. All around, in the crevices to either side. That pleasure would be yours soon enough. Now was about my enjoyment, my chance to finish, like you had in the car. I felt myself approaching the magic moment. You could feel it too. As much as I knew you wanted me to finish in your mouth, I also knew that this position was just too vulnerable a position for the first time. You were completely unable to control the depth of my penetration, and that would ruin the moment for you. I pulled out.

I placed your hands on me and let you begin to stroke my cock as I rearranged our bodies. Back on your knees you went. Your hands holding me, your mouth before me. Taking your ponytail in me right hand I ordered, "Finish me, Anna!"

Holding your hair gave me the appearance of control, but I was simply following your lead. This you knew how to do, this was your element. Coordinating hands and mouth, you took me. Sucking, using your tongue to work me, you brought me to the edge. I was standing at the precipice, about to drop into an enormous orgasm. You sucked, you stroked, you felt the moment arriving.

You stopped. 

Your hands on my cock, your mouth touching the tip, just a tiny bit of the head of me inside your lips. I could just barely see the tip of your tongue. A little smile played at the corners of your mouth. I was rocked back on my heels with the need to explode in your mouth. 

Another moment of crystal clarity. I can see your face to this day. You were a conniving little bitch. I had, and have, nothing but respect for you because of it. 

It was only a second or two, but it was a defining moment in our relationship. "Yes", it said. "You are the Master. But don't think I can't play the game just as well as you!"

And then you took me in. Harder, faster, sucking with more power than I had ever felt before. 

I exploded in your mouth.

I felt like I had opened a fire hose against your throat, but you took it all, and made it just...disappear. I let go of your ponytail, you took your hands off of me, but you kept me in your mouth. It was almost a challenge. 

"Is that all you've got, old man?" you seemed to say. You held me for about ten more seconds, working me gently with your tongue and lips. Then, with a final bout of suction to ensure nothing was lost, you pulled your face away from me. 

I lifted you to your feet. Led you to the bed and, pulling back the covers, helped you lie down. After removing your blindfold, I lay down beside you. You placed your head on my shoulder and closed your eyes.

After a few minutes, I felt what seemed like quiet sobs and wetness on my shoulder. I waited for you to talk about it.

Finally, you said quietly, "I never dreamed it could be so perfect." 

Then you drifted off to sleep.