8 comments/ 20491 views/ 28 favorites Letting Me In By: WordsNotDeeds Somehow I just know. Maybe it's the way you respond when I take you by the back of the neck and hold your head still so I can push my tongue into your mouth. Or maybe it's the look in your eyes when I hold your hands above your head against the wall and push my hard body against your soft one. Or maybe it's just a lucky guess. It doesn't really matter anyway. What matters is that I know. We've been going out for some time when I broach the subject - long enough to get intimately acquainted on several occasions. It's during one such occasion, in fact, when I decide the time is right. I can't do it immediately, of course. Not when my head is between your thighs and my mouth is otherwise occupied. But as I look up your body, past your rising and falling breasts, I notice that you have reached above your head to grip the frame of the bed tightly with your hands, looking for all the world as if you want to be bound in that position, and I know the time is right. To be sure it's something you really want, I'd prefer the idea to come from you. So I wait until we've finished, recovered our breath and are lying together side by side, naked as the day we were born, with your head resting on my arm. Only then do I speak. 'You'd tell me if there was anything more I could do to please you in bed, wouldn't you?' I ask. You look at me with some surprise. 'Of course I would! There isn't anything. Sex with you is really good.' It's a suitable enough start. You've obviously read enough women's magazines to know better than to lead with something that might sound like a criticism of my sexual performance, no matter how slight. But I'm not in this for a confidence boost. I want to find out if you really have the same tastes as me, even if you don't know it yet. 'But I'd really like to know what turns you on. There must be something you'd like - some fantasy or other,' I persist. You hesitate briefly and I can sense that you are a tiny bit embarrassed at the way this conversation is turning. In that moment I know that I'm on the right track. 'I don't think so,' you answer falteringly, trying to recover your composure. I give it a few seconds to let your mind adjust, then resume my quest. 'Maybe we could tell each other what we like most about what we already do,' I suggest. 'I can go first, if you like.' 'OK,' you reply, immediately more comfortable that I am taking the initiative. 'I find it really hot when you make a noise while you come,' I tell you truthfully. You blush and turn your head away from me. 'Don't say that! I feel so self-conscious about it,' you mumble. 'It's nothing to be ashamed of,' I reassure you. 'It turns me on.' You say nothing in response, so I push home my advantage. 'Now it's your turn.' Giggling awkwardly, you wriggle your body around so it's facing away from me and curl up so that your arse is pressing into my side. I turn to embrace you in the spoon position, feeling the first stirrings of life in my cock at the pleasant contact, in spite of the fact that I came inside you just a few minutes earlier. 'Go on,' I cajole. 'It's good to share secrets.' 'Well, I like it when you're...' Your voice tails off. 'When I'm what?' I prompt. With a sigh you give in. 'When you're forceful with me,' you say, with a strange abruptness which contrasts oddly with your previous reticence. There it is. The secret is out. I have the confirmation I needed. Nothing can stop me from having my way with you now. A world of nefarious possibilities opens up to me and you might as well already be bound, gagged and writhing helplessly at my feet. But I'm a patient man and I know that rushing things will only scare you. Time is on my side. I pull you in closer. 'I like that too,' I tell you. 'In fact, I'd like to be a bit more forceful at some point, if you don't mind.' Now you spin to face me. I can see a mixture of feelings in your eyes. There is curiosity about what I might mean and there's unmistakeable arousal too. I can see that you like the idea. But I can also sense some trepidation about how far I want to take this and what sort of secrets I might be hiding. On that point I can reassure you. This is purely about sex for me, not about some sort of kinky lifestyle. I don't want a slave to cook all my meals in nothing but a collar. Nor do I have a dungeon full of kidnapped girls beneath my house. But I do like nothing more than to turn an intelligent, poised, beautiful woman like you into my quivering, helpless, desire-soaked plaything for a precious hour or two every now and again. Luckily for me, I seem to have found a partner in you who is happy to suspend her equal rights for a while and put her body at my disposal. 'You don't need to worry,' I say. 'I don't want to lock you in a kennel in the garden and make you call me "Master" all day long.' I see an expression of relief come over your face as you sense that our desires are compatible. 'Well, I wouldn't object to the "Master" thing from time to time,' I add with a grin. 'But only on special occasions!' You giggle again. This time there is no nervousness in it. You don't need to say anything in response. The ball is in my court. For now we can kiss, lie back on the bed for a few more precious minutes and then return to everyday reality until next time. ... I don't leave next time for too long. I seize my moment one evening as we arrive back at your place after going out to eat. It's not a special occasion and we didn't go to a fancy restaurant - just a nice pizza place nearby, where we have both eaten well and enjoyed a good bottle of red wine. You have closed your apartment door behind you and we have taken off our jackets when I seize you by the shoulders, push you back against the wall and kiss you roughly. At first you squeal with surprise and start to resist instinctively, but only for a moment. Within seconds you surrender to my onslaught and respond to my tongue with your own. Before long I can feel your body rubbing up against mine and no doubt you can feel the hardness of my cock through our layers of clothing. I've made sure that this evening comes after a fair period of abstinence on my part. I have kept my hands to themselves because I want to be well and truly up for what I hope will be a spectacular occasion. Having enjoyed a lengthy kiss, if that is what my plundering of your mouth can be called, I take your shoulders once again, draw you away from the wall, spin you around and march you into the living room. You comply without objection. I'm guessing you realise that I am making good on the promise we made before and that you are not going to get an easy ride tonight. I leave you standing in the middle of the room and sit down in my favourite armchair, making myself comfortable. 'Strip for me,' I order. You look a little surprised at my tone and the speed with which things are progressing, but I'm in no mood for tender snuggling and staring into each other's eyes before we begin the action. 'I told you to strip!' I bark in your direction. 'Get on with it! Start with the boots.' After a moment's further hesitation you reach for your footwear. It's a reasonably chilly autumnal evening outside and you are dressed accordingly. The brown leather boots with a low heel which you are wearing over your skinny jeans look good, but I've had enough of them. In fact, I've had enough of all your clothing. Struggling a little for balance, because there is nothing on which you can lean in the centre of the floor, you pull off one boot, then the other. You push them to one side and then, without waiting for further instructions, remove the socks which you were wearing underneath them. Now you stand up straight and face me again, barefoot this time. Already you look more submissive, and we're only just getting started. 'Lose the top,' I instruct, and you obey. I can see that you're recovering yourself and beginning to enjoy the sexual power you have over me as you divest yourself of your clothing. It's the power a stripper always has over her audience. Once you have taken off the top, you dangle it teasingly before me, spin it around and throw it onto the sofa. You look good, but this isn't what I want from this encounter. I'm not here for you to titillate me. I'm here to own you. 'Stop!' I snap, and you jerk your head up in surprise. 'This isn't some sort of striptease,' I continue sharply. 'You do as I say and only as I say. A good slave girl doesn't leave her clothes in a mess like that.' I point at the discarded top. 'Do it neatly!' Suddenly subdued, you hurry to pick up your top, in the process gathering up your boots and socks in your hands. Within seconds the top is folded neatly on the sofa, with the socks on top and the boots standing side by side in front of it. You return to your position. I take in the snug fit of your jeans, your trim stomach and especially the lacy cups of your well-chosen bra. Clearly I was not the only one who had plans for this evening. Your apartment is warm, but I can easily make out the shape of your nipples pressing against the fabric. You look great already, but I want you naked. I know that it will emphasise our unequal roles perfectly, especially since I am still fully dressed, although my cock is now pushing up so hard that you can probably see its bulge in my crotch. 'Lose the jeans,' I say, and you pull them down your legs with a little difficulty because of their tight fit. I stop you as you are about to step out of them. 'Turn around,' I instruct you. You catch on quickly and shuffle around on your bare feet until you are facing away from me, with your jeans bunched around your ankles. I am now presented with a delightful view of your arse, encased in lacy panties which match the bra. My viewing pleasure is only increased as you bend to remove your jeans, before folding them meekly and adding them to the growing pile of your clothes. I look you up and down as you return to stand before me in your sexy underwear, chosen with me in mind. In many ways I would like to keep you like this for a while, but I decide to stick to the plan. 'Take the bra off now,' I tell you. You reach behind your back, undo the clasp and slide the straps from your shoulders. There is a sudden bashfulness in your demeanour as you fold it over and put it on the sofa, and you cannot help yourself from covering your breasts when you face me again. I'll correct your mistake later. For now, I want the job of stripping finished. I don't speak this time. I just nod at your panties and spin my index finger around to indicate what I want. You understand and turn away from me once again, putting your thumbs inside the elastic of the waistband, sliding the material over your arse and allowing it to drop to the floor. Then you bend once more to pick it up. Once again I am presented with a view of you from your best angle, and by this I mean no offence whatsoever to your lovely face. I have seen your arse plenty of times, but there is something even better about it this evening. Perhaps it is the deliciously creamy, smooth flesh of your buttocks which is making my cock strain at the leash. I long to feel it beneath my hand and I long to bring my hand down hard on it, marking you as mine with a red print to contrast with the pale skin everywhere else. You are now completely exposed. You top off the pile of clothes with your panties and turn for further instructions. 'Go and put your clothes away,' I say. You pick them up and start to leave the room when I speak again. 'And put on a nice pair of heels before you come back.' Is that a smile I see playing around the corners of your mouth as you turn to go? I think it must be. It seems that I have found a willing accomplice in my little game. ... If I had any remaining doubt about your enthusiasm for our activities, it would have been dispelled immediately upon your return. Your naked body looks luscious, but my eyes are drawn to your choice of footwear. You have gone above and beyond the call of duty in your obedience to my instruction. I am no expert in women's shoes, but these must be a good few inches high and I am at a loss to know how you manage to walk in them. Not only that, but they are topped by ankle straps which add a spicy flavour of kink to their appearance. I'm guessing you bought them once on a whim and have never had the courage to wear them in public. If you wore them out to a party, I would call them 'fuck-me' shoes, but since you must be aware that I don't need an invitation to do that tonight, we'll leave their name unspoken. You totter to the middle of the floor and face me again. I see that your face has reddened at your exposure. But you still cannot resist holding your arms in front of your breasts. It's time for me to correct your posture. 'Put your hands behind your head,' I order. Slowly you do as instructed, lifting up your arms and interlacing your fingers in the required position. Now your breasts are displayed in all their glory. They are not huge, but in my eyes they are perfect. I know you are sensitive about the fact that one is a tiny bit bigger than the other, but I think it adds to their attraction. Most pleasingly, your nipples seem to be reaching out to me, hard as bullets. I haven't even touched them yet, but I can clearly see them standing up from the puckered skin around them. I look you up and down with approval, then get up out of my chair for the first time since we got home. Without rushing, I circle you like a shark assessing its prey. You still look a little awkward, even with your breasts so brazenly exposed and your legs extended by your heels. You have locked your thighs together like a shy virgin. 'Open your legs,' I order. Reluctantly you shuffle them away from each other. It's still not far enough for me. My circling has brought me directly behind you now, and I step towards you and kick your feet further apart. Your legs are still not completely spread. I can take care of that later if I like. But it will do for now. Your sex is open to me and you look much more available. I'm still behind you and I step back a little so I can take in the beautiful view. The toned muscles of your legs are pulled taut by the impracticality of your shoes. Above them, your hips swell pleasingly and your arse stands out round and pert. I trail my fingers over your right buttock teasingly and I feel your involuntary shudder as I allow my hand to drift upwards where your waist nips in. You aren't a Disney princess with the shape of a wasp, thank God. I'd be afraid of snapping you in half if you were. But you do take good care of yourself and you have enticing curves in all the right places. As I resume my circling, leaving my hand on your body and allowing it to glide across your skin from your back to your side, I start to talk to you in a low voice. Sometimes the element of surprise can be a turn-on, but tonight I want you to know exactly what I have in store for you. 'Tonight you're nothing but my little slave,' I begin. It's the second time I've described you in this way and I can sense a little something in your reaction which is nervous about the idea, but also more than a little excited at the prospect. Perhaps it's the fact that it flies in the face of the way you've always been taught to behave as a modern woman, but your body is screaming at your mind to surrender itself to me. 'First I'm going to use that pretty mouth,' I continue as I move in front of you, running my hand up your front, over your breasts and stroking your lips before I slide my finger between them. You do not respond immediately, but quickly pick up on the mood, gripping my finger lightly between your lips and circling it tantalisingly with your tongue. You've given me blowjobs on several occasions before and I know you enjoy it, but I've always allowed you to give me head on your terms. This time I'm planning to treat your mouth as if I'm claiming my own possession. 'I hope your knees are feeling strong,' I continue, 'because you are going to spend a long time on them, sucking my cock as if it's your only goal in life.' At this news, you lick my finger a little more eagerly and take it further into your mouth as if to show me what you will soon be doing to a much more pleasing part of my anatomy. But before we move to action, I have a few more words to share with you. I remove my finger from your mouth, you relinquish your grip on it reluctantly and I move my hand to your left breast, caressing it gently around your rock-hard nipple in ever-decreasing circles. 'After that I'm going to bend you over, spread those legs and tease you until you beg me to let you come,' I say. 'But I'm going to make you wait first, while I spank you like a naughty little girl.' I notice the shock in your eyes at this point. This is more than you had expected. But I've calculated that the submissive in you will win out before long. So I leave the news to sink in before continuing. 'When I've finished, you'll be screaming for orgasm,' I promise. 'And maybe, just maybe I'll let you have one. That's if you've pleased me. Then I'm going to fuck you.' I deliberately let this last statement sound abrupt, almost spitting out the Anglo-Saxon word to emphasise its crudeness. It suits the mood perfectly. This is hardly a night for making love. To add a little meat to the bones of my plans, I elaborate. 'I'm going to fuck you hard - from behind with your head down and your arse in the air, just the way you should be.' To make my point more clear, I take your nipple between my fingers and give it a significant tweak. You wince involuntarily and a gasp escapes your mouth. 'Would you like that?' I ask. You nod, screwing your eyes shut and reddening again at being forced to reveal your desires. I was hoping for more of a response, so I release your breast and move my hand down and slide it between your parted legs, seeking out your sex with my fingers. I don't have to delve inside you to find that, as I expected, you are already wet with arousal. I stroke your clit for a short time, barely making contact at all, but using your juices to allow my finger to glide over the surface as your breathing quickens and you start to sway slightly in rhythm with my movements. 'Would you like that?' I ask again. 'Yes please,' you answer, but your breathlessness muffles your words. 'I didn't hear you properly,' I insist. 'Would you like me to do the things I've described to you?' 'Yes please, sir!' you gasp, louder this time. This time it's my turn to be surprised. I hadn't expected you to call me "sir" unbidden. You seem to be taking to your submissiveness like a duck to water. I feel my cock stiffen again. It's now so hard inside my clothes that it's becoming painful. But I mustn't let you take control of the exchange, no matter how much of a turn-on your words are to me. Quickly recovering myself, I stop my ministrations between your legs, ignoring the involuntary whine which you emit at the sudden withdrawal of pleasure. My finger is still slick with the evidence of your excitement, so I return it to your mouth, making you accept the indignity of tasting yourself as you lick me clean. You do so with satisfying enthusiasm. 'Let's get down to business,' I announce. 'I want that mouth of yours around my cock. But first you can go and get me a drink.' You open your mouth as if to respond, evidently unused to being given such curt and humiliating orders, but you remember your role this evening and turn to carry out my instruction, disappearing to the kitchen. I watch you leave, lustfully following the sway of your hips with my eyes as you walk in your heels, then I return to my seat, pausing on a whim as I do so to gather up something which I see draped over the back of another chair. I sit down to wait, undoing the fastening of my jeans and allowing my cock to spring free. It stands up, keenly anticipating its imminent pleasure. I hear the clink of glasses from the other room as you prepare and I manage, with difficulty, to keep my own hands from my cock, such is my desire for release. Letting Me In I have been maintaining my composure and keeping things slow in order to emphasise my dominance over you, but in reality I am at least as desperate for fulfilment as you are. I can barely hold myself back from rushing to join you in the kitchen, bending you over the sink and burying myself inside you for a swift, powerful climax. But that's not how I want things to go tonight. I want to take things slowly and draw out the sensation for as long as possible, so I sit back and restrain myself with difficulty. When you reappear, you are bringing a glass of whisky. It's a good choice and you look irresistible as you move your naked body closer to me and hold out the drink in my direction. I take it and enjoy the weight of the glass in in my hand, swirling the golden liquid around and savouring its pungent, peaty scent. You have also brought a glass of water in case I want to dilute it, but I prefer the spirit in all its unadulterated strength. I put the water to one side and take my first sip of whisky, allowing the familiar fiery sensation to fill my mouth and slide down my throat, bringing a warmth to my very core. I notice you glancing at my cock, which is now standing proud and firm. I don't suppose I'm any bigger than most men, but I don't have anything to be ashamed of and tonight I am so turned on that it feels as if all the blood in my body has responded to the urgent call. I feel as if I'm ten inches at least and capable of drilling through a diamond as I sit here, barely believing my luck. I am still wearing the shirt and jeans I wore to our meal at the restaurant, while you are stark naked, waiting for orders and about to have the mouthful of your life. I point to the floor in front of me and you drop to your knees. I have deliberately avoided placing a cushion there to make things easier for you, because a degree of discomfort on your part seems only appropriate for the occasion. Luckily for you, your living room has a thick rug on the floor, and it will ease your situation somewhat. I don't plan to allow you up in a hurry. You lean your head towards my cock, about to take it in your mouth, but I'm not ready for that yet. I want you to degrade yourself first. 'Lick me,' I say. You look a little surprised, but pick up on the idea quickly. Turning your head to one side, you run your tongue from the bottom of my shaft to the top. It's good, but not quite submissive enough for me. 'Do it again,' I tell you, 'and this time keep your head straight.' You seem confused initially, but soon you work out what I mean. Keeping your head straight means you have to lower your upper body and stick your chin forward until your tongue is at the right level. Then you run it up my length once more. This time the angle from which I look down at you pleases me. I notice you keep your eyes lowered as demurely as a woman can when she's naked and caressing a cock lovingly with her tongue. 'Once more, and this time I want you to swirl your tongue around my tip,' I instruct. Again you do as bidden, making my nerve endings tingle as you stroke my sensitive tip tantalisingly. I could almost come right now, but I want to make the best of the blowjob first. It's time for me to make some additions to your outfit. I brought a couple of things specially for the occasion, but first I am going to use the item I picked up on impulse from the back of your chair just a few moments earlier. I pull it out from behind my back and let you look at it from your lowly position. It's a silk scarf which I have seen you wearing on previous occasions. You're going to wear it again tonight, but in a very different way. I roll it gently into a band and hold it horizontally in front of your eyes. You close them in anticipation and I bind it around your head, enclosing you in darkness. In truth it turns me on to have you blindfolded while I can see perfectly, but I've also done it out of some consideration for you. I know you won't have the brazenness to look me in the eyes, so I suspect the enforced lack of sight will help you to avoid feeling self-conscious and will assist your mind in embracing the submission of your situation. Now I turn my attention to the items I brought for you. I wouldn't consider myself to be a great enthusiast for the more extreme forms of kink, although I enjoy the erotic appeal of a ball-gagged or butt-plugged woman as much as the next male of a dominant persuasion. But I don't want to push you too far on the first occasion. If it goes well this time, we can move on to other things when we're ready. So I take two tiny nipple clamps out of my pocket. I don't think they'll be too much for you, but they do have a strong bite, as I know from testing them on a pinch of my skin. You stiffen behind the blindfold as I slide the first one onto your right nipple, then I release the clamp and watch as you squeal at the sudden pain. I know that it will subside to a nagging ache as you accustom yourself to them, but the first sensation is extreme. I see your hand move instinctively towards the unwelcome object, but you hold yourself back from dislodging it. 'Well done,' I say, before attaching the other clamp mercilessly. This time you were expecting it, but it doesn't stop you from gasping and tensing your muscles as you feel the newcomer's arrival. You settle yourself to embrace the exquisite discomfort, which is just as well, because I have no plans to remove the clamps in the near future. I now remove my final gift to you from my other pocket. Of course, you can see it no more than you could see the clamps, but I think you will enjoy this one considerably more. It's a bullet vibrator, complete with a remote control and small enough to slide right inside you. I roll it gently down your toned stomach, allowing you to feel the coldness of its shiny metal and to wonder what it might be. Then I slip it into your sex, noticing as I do so that you are even wetter than before. Evidently some parts of you are appreciating the nipple clamps a little more than others. 'Hold it in place,' I tell you, and you clamp your thighs together immediately. Having inserted the vibrator, I use the remote control to switch it onto its lowest setting. Even with such a gentle buzz, I watch your body stiffen at the sensation and I exult in the heady feeling of complete control I have over you. Then I take another sip of my whisky, slide forward in my chair, reach for the back of your head and guide it downwards so that your mouth embraces my hard cock. You obey without resistance, taking to your task with commendable enthusiasm and swiftly establishing a rhythm as you slide your mouth up and down my length. I cannot help myself from groaning at the pleasure you are bringing me, but I notice that you have moved your right hand to my shaft to hold me steady for your oral attention. This might be practical, but it's not what I want tonight. 'I didn't ask for a handjob!' I snap. 'I just want you to suck me. Put your hands behind your back!' I can sense your surprise behind your blindfold. I don't seem as grateful as I have been before when you have given me head. But you do as I say, putting your hands behind you and clasping them together, before returning to your duty. But now it is considerably more difficult for you to work consistently, and you have to struggle to maintain the balance of grip and lubrication with your lips. In truth, one of my reasons for making you do this is because you would have had me coming in seconds if you had been able to suck me at full capacity. The slower pace helps me to maintain control of my own body. But you don't need to know that. As far as you are concerned, depriving you of the use of your hands is just one more way I can remind you that I am in charge. 'Keep them there,' I order. 'If you touch me again I'll tie you up.' The idea of binding you turns me on like hell, and I suspect you wouldn't object at all. In fact, I get the impression that you consider calling my bluff and cheekily disobeying my instructions in order to make me carry out my threat, because I notice your hands jerk apart slightly, but you think better of it and put them back out of the way. I'll save the bondage until a later occasion. You'd make a fine damsel in distress and it would fulfil a fantasy for me to truss you up tightly and picture you as a hapless kidnap victim, desperately trying to pay off her own ransom in favours to her abductor, or as a captive princess, adapting herself reluctantly to her new life as the choicest of the spoils of war. But there's also something which turns me on about forcing you to restrain yourself without the help of a rope or cuffs to take things out of your control. Sometimes the suggestion of bondage is more erotic than the thing itself. I settle myself to enjoy the blowjob of my life, watching with lustful fascination as you bob your head up and down and admiring the deliciously obscene way your lips are distended as they accommodate themselves to my cock. 'Good girl,' I whisper, and I notice your tongue flutters around my tip at the praise. As you suck, you are teased slowly but surely by the vibrator which is humming away deep inside you. I decide to move things up a bit by moving it to its next setting. The buzz gets a little louder and you twitch visibly at the increased intensity. You continue to pleasure me, but your own excitement is growing by the second and before long I can hear tell-tale moans of arousal coming from your busy mouth. I'm on the edge now. There is nothing, and I mean absolutely nothing in the world, which turns me on more than listening to a hot woman's lustful sounds when her mouth is stuffed with my cock and everything is delightfully muffled. I know that all men love blowjobs and I suppose there are all sorts of reasons why they do, but in me you've had the bad luck, or possibly even the good luck, to find a man who loves them purely because of the sheer selfishness of the act from my perspective, and who only loves them when I have power over the exchange. You exist at this moment purely to serve my pleasure and I will take it from you as and when I want it. It shames me a little to admit it, but I also like the fact that it makes you suffer. I stiffen even more when you struggle for breath and I savour the knowledge that your knees must be sore. If you gag it makes me want to come straight away. But these things only apply when I know that the whole thing is turning you on too. Thankfully for me, in you I seem to have found the holy grail - a woman who is truly aroused by being made to suffer in this way. The excitement of it is almost causing me to suffer too. You can only imagine how desperate I am to finish off like this, with you on your knees before me. I want my climax to explode between your lips. I want to rip your blindfold off at that moment to watch the expression of erotic astonishment mingled with panic on your face as you realise just how much of my seed I am making you take. I want to relish the thought that my flavour is filling your mouth and that its bitterness will be lingering long after we are done. I want to make you swallow every last drop and then lick me clean like the slave girl you have allowed yourself to become this evening. And I want to know that you are sopping wet between the legs and ready to climax in response as soon as I turn my attention to you. But I won't. I made a promise to fuck you and I plan to keep it. So I take hold of your hair and use it to control your pace, slowing you down so that I can stop myself from going past the point of no return. But even so I am gasping and groaning in harmony with you. This is the dream for me. Nothing says dominance like gripping a woman by the hair and taking a blowjob from her rather than letting her give it and nothing says submission as much as when she allows it to happen and gets even more turned on as a result. We spend a few minutes in this glorious symbiosis before I switch the vibrator to its final, highest setting. The buzzing is loud now and I know you won't be able to last long. Your moans become high-pitched squeals and your whole body is trembling with desire. But I'm not kind enough to let you go just yet. With my hand still in your hair, I draw your head slowly but insistently further onto my cock until it can go no further. Your face is buried in my loins and you are accommodating my entire length like a socket accommodates a plug. I hold you there until the combination of the vibrations and uncomfortable position becomes too much for you. With a mixture of a gag reflex and a squeal you jerk backwards, pulling your hands from behind your back as you do so, and I allow you to pull your head off me and gasp for air. Before you have recovered your breath I have switched the vibrator back to its lowest setting and I watch your body subside from being on the cusp of boiling over to a mere simmer. You whine with frustration, but I sit back to admire my handiwork. I can honestly say that you've never looked more beautiful than this. You are kneeling before me and you return your hands to their position behind your back. Your breaths are still coming heavily and I can see your breasts rising and falling. By this time they are also glistening with sweat and your nipples are still firmly gripped by their clamps. The blowjob which turned into a face-fuck has left your lipstick smeared and your hair is delightfully tousled from my rough attentions. Your blindfold is still obscuring your sight, but it has gone a little askew and I can make out a tear or two from your exertions escaping below it. A neutral observer might see this as some form of abuse, but we both know better. I take pity on you for a moment and reach for the glass of water you brought earlier. I hold it to your lips and allow you to take a few sips. You do so gratefully, allowing me to give it to you and making no move to take it with your own hands, which remain behind you. As a result, a little water escapes from your mouth and trickles down your chin and onto your breasts. When you have finished drinking I put the glass down, lean forwards and lick the drops from your warm skin, enjoying the salty taste as the water mingles with your sweat. Considering that I have given you sufficient recovery time, I take a last sip of my whisky and stand up, before moving behind you and stooping to your level. Once there, I raise your forearms until they are parallel behind your back and hold them there in a hammerlock position, then use my grip to pull you up until you are standing. I sense you are still a little shaky on your feet, which is not surprising given that you are blindfolded, still wearing the crazy heels and the vibrator is active inside you, albeit only gently. So I take one of your shoulders with my other hand and march you like a condemned prisoner to the bedroom, still holding your arms tightly behind your back, but supporting you all the way. The support I am giving you disappears swiftly, though. As soon as we arrive at our destination, I push you forcefully onto the bed and give you no time to recover your composure. I seize you by the hips and flip you to your stomach, then I drag you to a kneeling position. Making sure your head is resting on the bedclothes, I stand up and begin to strip off my clothes. I watch you as I undress, keeping my eyes fixed on the irresistible shape of your upturned arse. I know that it's all mine, that I have reduced you to the quivering state in which I want you, that you will obey my every word in order to get the satisfaction you crave. I notice that you have kept your legs together and this pleases me. It lifts your arse more and gives it the rounded appearance I want. It looks for all the world like a love-heart pointing in my direction and gives me a perfect target. By now I am naked, and I think it's time to remind you of what I have in store for you. I kneel beside you on the bed, run my right hand over your bare buttocks and use my left to stroke my cock, still erect from your oral love-making. I walk the line carefully as I grip my erection to avoid pushing myself over the edge. That would be a terrible waste when I have your holes at my disposal. 'Did you enjoy sucking my cock?' I ask you. 'Yes sir,' you respond immediately. 'And what do you want now?' I continue. 'I'd like to come, sir,' you request. 'That didn't sound like you meant it. How much do you want to come?' 'Very much, sir. Please.' I'm in the mood for being cruel. 'Beg me for it,' I order. You hesitate. Presumably nobody has ever made you beg for an orgasm before. But I know that deep down you crave humiliation and I want you to degrade yourself completely before me. I don't have to wait long before you give in. 'Please sir,' you mutter, 'please can I come?' 'Speak up,' I say. 'Please can I come, sir?' you repeat. 'Not unless you do better than that.' 'I'll do anything, sir, just please let me come.' 'What will you do that I can't just take from you whenever I want it?' 'Anything you like, sir, and I'll do it lovingly.' In truth you've pressed the right button with this offer. Dominating a woman gets me aroused like nothing else, but only as long as she wants to be dominated. It makes me hot to think of forcing myself on you, but only because I know that you want to be taken by force. That's the paradox of the situation. I want to push you to the very brink of what you want, but if I push you too far it will stop being a turn-on. So the knowledge that you will give me what I want lovingly is a considerable offer, but it's not the time or the place to let you know that you've played a trump card. So I turn up the vibrator one notch to its middle setting to buy myself some time before responding. You gasp and your muscles tense at the increased activity inside you. It reminds me that I'm in control. I laugh dismissively. 'I can find a soaking wet pussy here to prove everything I need to know about your feelings,' I say. 'I don't need you to remind me you'll do it lovingly.' 'But please, sir, I just need to come so badly!' Your voice is louder now and your desperation is growing once more. 'I think you've forgotten that we need to take one thing at a time,' I remind you. 'What did I say would have to happen first before you could come?' You think back for a few seconds. I can sense that your addled brain is struggling to operate with any clarity through the fog of your arousal. 'You said you'd tease me,' you reply at last. 'But you've done that, sir! Please, I can't take any more.' 'Oh, I think you can,' I say, flicking the switch in my hand to its highest setting, enjoying the immediate squeal which comes from your lips and then returning it before you can get the release you need so badly. But while your body is still taut from the sudden change, I raise my right hand, unseen to your blindfolded eyes, and bring it down hard on the exposed flesh of your exposed buttocks. The resounding and satisfying slap which I hear is nothing compared to the scream which you emit in shock and pain. I allow it to subside into a moan of distress mingled with excitement before speaking. 'What else did I say would have to happen first?' I demand. With difficulty you stammer out the words. 'You said you'd spank me, sir.' 'Good girl. Well-remembered. Now, remind me how much you want to come.' 'Very much, sir. Please!' you beg. 'If you want to come so much, but you know the spanking has to happen first, what else should you be asking me for?' The realisation dawns on you that I am going to make you beg me to spank you. Your degradation will be complete. But you have gone so far that you must realise there's no turning back now. You are compelled to embrace the submission utterly. Letting Me In 'Please sir,' you begin in a voice barely more than a husky whisper. 'Please spank me.' 'Where should I spank you?' 'On my arse, sir.' 'And how hard should I spank you?' 'Very hard, sir,' you say, giving in to the inevitable. 'Very well then. But I don't think you can take too much, so I'm only going to spank you ten times. But since you've asked for it, what should a good girl like you say each time?' 'I should thank you, sir.' 'Good. Make sure you do. I'll count the time I've already spanked you as the first, so here comes the next one.' I raise my hand once more, feeling my cock getting even harder at the delicious prospect, and I bring my hand down again on the toned, firm skin of your arse. This time you knew it was coming, so the noise you make is considerably less than before, but even so you cannot restrain yourself from squealing at me. But quickly you recollect yourself and remember your duty. 'Thank you, sir.' you say. I deliver another blow, this time on the other cheek. The angle is less favourable to me, so it is a little softer than before. This time there is no scream and your thanks comes more quickly. I am determined to make amends for my lenience, so I shift my position slightly and hit you once again with considerable force. I get the impact just right so the slap reverberates around the room and your whole body rocks at the force. Your volume grows, but it is less of a scream and more of an involuntary wail as you reveal to me just how turned on you are at being mistreated in this way. You manage to mumble your thanks and then I hear you holding your breath for the next time. After my fifth strike I do not continue immediately, but use my hand to draw your legs apart. As a result, your arse lowers and presents me with slightly less of an upturned target, but I am able to slide my hand between your thighs. What I find there surprises even me. Your juices are actually dripping from your sex and I can see them dampening the bedclothes beneath you. Leaving the vibrator to do its work inside you, I stroke your clit, bringing a desperate moan from your mouth as you implore me wordlessly to put you out of your misery. But of course, I am only half way there. I remove my hand, let it hover for a few seconds while you anticipate the pain, then bring it down as hard as before, back on the original buttock. I notice by now that my hand print is starting to stand out on your pale skin and I determine to keep hitting the same spot so I can add a perfect decoration to your appearance. I spank you once more in the same place before turning my attention to the other cheek, bringing out a matching hand-print there too. Each time you thank me as well as you can in your anguished state, but after I have landed nine blows you are on the edge of collapse, both mentally and physically. You are making an almost continuous noise which defies description, but in its notes I detect not only pain and pleasure, but also impotent rage against your own treacherous body, which is betraying you by being so turned on at such unfair treatment at my hands. With my left hand I reach for the nipple clamps and take them off one by one. Each time you draw breath sharply as the blood rushes back to your sensitive buds and the pain of removal is greater than that of wearing them. Meanwhile, with my right hand I reach into your sex once more and stroke your clit a little more vigorously this time until your whole body has tensed up and your back is arched like a cat's. Only then do I switch the vibrator once again to its highest setting before withdrawing my hand and bringing down my final blow on your arse with all the strength I can muster. 'Come for me.' I say. To say that what follows is explosive would be an understatement in the extreme. You jerk forwards and gasp repeatedly as the orgasm crashes over you, involuntarily uttering high-pitched squeals of fulfilment between breaths. Your muscles remain clenched for several seconds and only then do you begin to relax, gradually sinking back to your original position on your knees, with your head still buried in the bedclothes. I allow you to experience your climax to the full, before switching off the vibrator and pulling it, sopping wet, from your pussy. But I am not planning to give you any real respite. I keep you on your knees, move myself directly behind you and line up my cock for entry. The pleasure of observing your performance under my onslaught has prevented me from softening at all and I need no preparation whatsoever. As soon as I am in position, I penetrate your waiting pussy, sliding in easily until I am slotted inside you up to the hilt. I promised you a fucking and I do not let you down. Some would regard what comes next as animalistic and impersonal, but I see it as the ultimate expression of my feelings for you. I grip you by the flanks, looking down at the incomparable vision of my red hand-prints marked on your arse, and use my leverage to begin thrusting into your perfectly-positioned body. I know it won't take long and I am no longer holding back. I increase my vigour until I am slamming into you, my balls demanding to be emptied without further delay. Within seconds I am groaning my own pleasure for your ears and it takes hardly any more time before I am filling you up with my seed. My cock takes complete control at this point and my muscles act of their own accord, ejecting spurt after spurt of my juices deep inside you. All my pent-up excitement at forcing you to strip, treating you as a slave, forcing you to suck me, spanking you at will and giving you the orgasm of your life are expressed in these few moments of almost unimaginable pleasure, as all I can think of is that I am a man and you are a woman and I want nothing else in this world other than you, right here, right now. I am still gasping for breath a few seconds later when my cock has stopped convulsing as it expels its last few drops and I slip back onto my heels and slide out of you. But I am still firm. As my chest heaves I look down at my cock, glistening with your juices and my own, and I have one final, wicked thought. I allow you to slump to the bed and roll you onto your side. I shuffle around you until I am at your head, then I take the blindfold from you. I have gone past sparing you the indignity of looking me in the eyes. I allow you a few seconds to blink as you adjust to the light, then I show you my still-erect cock. I see you taking in the evidence of our combined arousal on it, before I move it to your lips. 'Lick me clean,' I order, and you do so without delay. Having come just seconds before, my nerve endings are much less responsive than they were previously to your blowjob, but this is more than made up for by the absolute dominance of what is happening at this point. I have owned you completely this evening and you have done my bidding at each stage. You have stripped for me, sucked my cock, endured my punishment, climaxed spectacularly for me and given me access to your body for my satisfaction. Now you will play the role of a slave girl to its full extent and finish the job by cleaning me afterwards. You accept my cock in your mouth and I feel you sliding your nimble tongue around my shaft. I know that you can taste two things at this moment. One is the powerful, bitter flavour of my seed, the other is the pungent taste of your own excitement. I know it well from times I have spent pleasing you with my mouth, but making you taste yourself is a different feeling altogether. I know that stronger than both of these things is the flavour of humiliation and subjection to my will which I see in your eyes as you obediently remove all the traces of our encounter from my cock. You signal that the task is complete with a final flourish of your tongue around my tip and I withdraw from your mouth. My cock finally begins to soften and I collapse beside you on the bed. We lie for several minutes in absolute silence as we both recover our breath completely. Even then there is nothing to say which can match what we have done together. But when I look in your direction I notice a tear or two coming from your eyes. With concern I roll towards you and take you in my arms, fearful that I have misread all the signals and pushed you too far. 'Was I too rough for you?' I ask. You reply with difficulty as you stifle a sob. 'No, nothing like that. The crying isn't bad. They're good tears. It's just that it was something else. You showed me something. I can't really explain. It was intense. That's all I can say.' I pull you close and hug you tight, understanding as much of what you mean as a man can at this point. I know that what we have done is far more than enjoying each other's bodies, though God knows we have done that enough. But we have also revealed something deep about ourselves to each other. You have let me into a secret part of you to which nobody else has ever been given access. I bask in the feeling of privilege and know that there is no turning back from this.