2 comments/ 12658 views/ 7 favorites Might Just Get What You Wish For By: Halcyon_Flux (Thank you, as always, to VMKane for editing and trying to improve my awful grammar. Thanks also to Kat for proofreading.) Wednesday. I often ask myself if I'm an immoral person. I have arranged to meet another woman for the sole purpose of having sex, and I'm not single. There are just things that Jen can't provide for me. Deviant things. I don't expect you to understand, this is something that one isn't supposed to indulge. Infidelity is perhaps the biggest sin of all. Nerves are paralysing me. I haven't done this before. Of course I've thought about it and spoken about it online, but actually meeting in person makes it all very real. My throat is dry and my stomach is in knots, I'm fighting the urge to run to the ladies and spew my guts up. I spent hours trying to decide what to wear, and still I feel like she's going to be disappointed. My hand is wrapped around the now lukewarm cardboard cup sitting on the cheaply made table in front of me, in one of the many nondescript coffee outlets that plague the high street. She's late. What did I expect? Her main objective is to make me feel shame, and she's already succeeding. I've chosen a town far enough away to not bump into anyone I know. We've exchanged photos online so I know what she looks like; tall, slim waist, young. The lump in my throat is getting bigger as I'm hit with flashbacks of our previous conversations. She's had me crawling around on my hands and knees, with my tits scooped out of my shirt, ordering me to slap them until they go red. And denied me an orgasm at the end of it. My pants are sodden; I desperately want to change them for a less uncomfortably sticky pair. I'm paranoid that the middle-aged woman at the next table will be able to smell me. I lifted my dress out from under my bum as I sat down. I can feel the coolness of the chair on the back of my thighs; the only problem is the wet patch I am likely to leave behind. She appears just as I'm taking a sip of coffee, half of it managing to dribble down my chin. Great first impression. The first thing I notice about her is how assertively she carries herself, her heels clicking, causing everyone she passes to turn for a second glance. Her brunette hair is up in a sleek ponytail. We've arranged to meet after work, which somehow adds to the sordidness of this whole thing. "Ava, hi. Run and get me a double espresso will you." I'm dumbfounded. Has she really just dismissed me like I'm her maid? It's making my insides throb. I'm so taken aback that I just sit there opening and closing my mouth like a goldfish. "Now, Ava. That is if you want to follow through with our little arrangement?" People have started to take an interest in us. Their curious looks are making me feel self-conscious and my cheeks have gone bright pink. "Sorry, I'll go get it for you ... Miss Page." I can't meet her eyes, how is she doing this? I'm thirty-three years old and I feel like I've been transported back to my teens when women just had to speak to me and my ability to function would disappear, along with my dignity. "Hurry along, I'm sure you're aware we have things to discuss." I clumsily push my chair backwards, the noise of it scraping across the floor filling the room. As I walk up to the coffee bar to join the back of the queue I know she's assessing me. Is she thinking this is a bad idea? Does she still like me now she's seen me? It's almost as if there is a fishing hook in my cheek, I'm struggling to escape but she's reeling me in. She's taken a seat in one of the sofas in the corner of the room. As I walk back with her drink she motions for me to sit in the leather chair opposite her. I put her drink down and try and sit in the low chair without my hem riding too far up my legs. "You are very cute, Ava. Trying so hard not to flash me the tops of those hold-ups, aren't you?" I'm thankful we're in a quiet corner, although I have no doubt that if she intends to publicly humiliate me, she will. Finally I manage to look into her eyes, there is something in them, something that tells me this is more to her than just a game. Others want to be held and whispered sweet nothings to, I want to be abused and humiliated. I haven't lied to her, she knows I have a girlfriend. And she knows that makes me very ashamed to be here. We've been emailing for months, we've shared intimate secrets, secrets I haven't even told Jen. And now I'm face to face with her. "Open your legs for me, Ava. Not wide, just enough so I can see your panties." "Wha .. what? Here? I can't." "Yes you can." I swallow hard and glance around the room. No one is looking in our direction. I slowly part my thighs and close my eyes as the cool air meets the heat of my pussy. I'm aching deep inside my stomach. "Look at me." I force my eyes open. She holds my gaze before looking down between my legs. She must surely be able to see the dark stain. "I haven't even said anything to you and you're already in quite a state, Ava. I think I have an exhibitionist on my hands. Dirty slut likes meeting strangers and exposing her cunt on demand. Next time you're not to wear anything, I will have a lot of fun with you." "Yes, Miss Page." Did that voice come out of me? "I know you've been struggling, Ava. But I'm not going to wrap you up in a big fluffy dressing gown and tell you everything is going to be ok. Can you handle that? We're adults and I have too much respect for you to treat you any other way. When I beat you it's because I enjoy doing it, not because I'm helping you work out your unresolved daddy issues." "I can handle it." "Come on, I'm parked just around the corner." She makes me wait as she finishes her drink before picking up her bag, turning and walking briskly towards the door. I feel like a puppy trying to keep up with my mistress. Her hips sway as she walks, I'd do anything to be able to touch. * Her house is detached and set back off the main road. It doesn't fit her persona; I didn't expect her to live in such a quaint little cottage, complete with thatched roof. She parks up in the driveway and turns off the engine. "So, you sure about this, Ava? Last chance to walk away, I'll completely understand if you do." "I've never been more sure. Please." "Take your panties off for me, I want to have a look at them." Thumbs hooking over the band, hands trembling as I lift my arse and pull them down to my ankles. The crotch is covered in thick, sticky strings of cum. How can I pass these to her? I know we're off the road but what if someone comes, the postman innocently going about his business only to stumble upon our little sex game. I pull them over my shoes and hand them to her, once again not being able to meet her eyes. She has leather seats, which she must have taken into consideration before telling me to take off my underwear, I doubt she wants me ruining her upholstery. She grips them with her thumb and forefinger, massaging my cum into the cotton, before chucking them back into my lap and raising her finger to her mouth, tongue meeting the tip and seductively circling. "I like girls to taste natural, not of soap; you certainly succeed on that front. You've made my whole car smell like a cheap hotel. Out you get, make sure you wipe the seat off, you can use your panties." I climb out and wipe the seat, as if I was at the gym cleaning the equipment after a particularly vigorous session. At the same time a gust of wind catches my hem and lifts it around my thighs. I drop my pants as my hands instinctively try to stop it flashing my naked arse. "I wouldn't worry about that, I'll get to see it all very shortly anyway, Ava." Natasha walks up to the door and puts her key into the hole, but doesn't turn it. Instead she turns to me. "Kneel." Little click of her fingers as she says it. I'm far from graceful as I get down on my knees and I can tell she's disappointed with me. The path is rough and apart from it being uncomfortable I know it's going to ladder the nylon. But that's the least of my worries, I'm terrified that someone is going to spot me. I know my dress is hiding nothing and the thought of a stranger seeing my pussy is adding an extra layer of kink to this whole set up. "You'll crawl into my house." She opens the door and I follow on my hands and knees, my inner thighs coated with what she's making me feel. I've never, as an adult, crawled in anyone's presence before and it's even more demeaning than I imagined. My breasts feel heavy and I'm very aware that I am flashing my cunt as I follow behind her. I am doing the one thing I thought I'd never do, completely submit. She motions for me to crawl in front of her as she steps around me and shuts the door. "Have you ever seen any of those silent Victorian films where the women get undressed and flash their ankles provocatively?" I can't speak, just shake my head. "Well they always have such womanly figures, full hips and voluptuous bottoms. You are so delicious, my dear. I am going to take great pleasure in using you. Forehead to the floor and raise your dress for me." The thing a lot of people don't understand is that this is about human connection. It's not just about the physical; it's also about trusting another person enough to let them use you. To let them get inside your head and dig out those shameful secrets that we all keep repressed. I need her to be cruel, to laugh at me and embarrass me, and I need that from her alone. I remember telling her one of these secrets in an earlier conversation – how I liked to insert objects into my arsehole and walk around without anyone knowing. The feeling of something inside me as I moved got me soaking wet. The tiles feel cool against my forehead. My hands are still shaking, I want to cry, my mind is racing. I pull it up slowly, decadently, feel the material slide over my pale skin. I'm sweating, my hair sticking to my face. "Gorgeous. Just begging to be spanked. I bet you'd let anyone take you there, wouldn't you?" "Don't ... you already know." "You let him stick it in you in that car park, didn't you? He threw your pants away and tried to fuck you with his half erect cock. I bet you fucking loved feeling it pressing against your tight arsehole, while people walked past, oblivious." Her fingers meet no resistance. They slide inside me, hooked down, finding that ridge that makes me crazy. "Tell me, Ava." "I was on my knees, hand wrapped around his shaft, sucking him. He was gripping my hair, fucking my mouth." I'm sobbing now, my body convulsing around her fingers as she uses my shame to get me off. "Do I mean more to you than that?" "Oh, Natasha, you know you do." She is kneeling behind me, fingering me as she leans over me, her mouth close to my left ear. Her left hand wrapped around underneath my waist, pulling me back against her. "Oh no, you haven't earned that privilege yet, slut. It's Miss Page to you." She moves her left hand around my throat, tightening her grip just enough to remind me what type of person she is. "Do you want to cum?" Filthy grunt confirms what she already knows. "Crawling like a bitch has quite the effect on you. Maybe next time I should buy you a cheap dog collar with a lead and parade you around the garden for the neighbours to see, what do you think about that?" "No, please, Miss. I couldn't, I wouldn't." "No? You're going to regret using that word with me. Someone's bottom is going to be smarting later." She's still fucking me, has three fingers inside and I feel deliciously full, she's giving me more than enough to work myself on. My hips pushing back against her, sloppy sounds filling the hallway. "Cum for me you little whore." Being given permission is like a fuse, I know I'm seconds from orgasm. Its building deep inside my belly, feels almost too intense, like I'm not going to survive it. Her fingers have found my clit again and she's circling it slowly, teasingly. I cry out and try to pull away from her relentless fingers; everything goes dark for a few seconds until I come to lying in a mess of tangled, sweaty limbs on the floor. Friday. Every time I think about what we did my stomach lurches. I want to serve you Miss Page, will you consider it? I am alone all weekend if you have no other plans? I know this is presumptuous of me but I couldn't help but notice how wet you were after making me crawl. Thank you for letting me worship your clit, I know I am nothing more than something you use to get yourself off. I have slapped my thighs like you ordered and now they are very red and sore, but I haven't touched myself, I wouldn't without your permission. I went straight for a shower when I got home. Jen was in bed, so luckily I didn't have to face lying to her right away. I'd told her I was out with some work colleagues and not to wait up for me. I could still taste Natasha's cum on my tongue, still had the images of our debauchery flashing through my mind. I scrubbed my skin so hard I thought I was going to bleed, if only I could do the same to my mind. After I climbed into bed as quietly as I could I checked my phone: I haven't forgotten about you using the word 'no' earlier. I will be addressing this next time I see you. N There is no way I could fuck another woman in our bed, although I don't know where this sudden moral high ground has appeared from, considering everything else I have done. Once you start bending the rules it's easy to rationalise all the doubts away. She makes me feel alive, I crave for her touch. I know she gets this look in her eyes when she's with me, it's so cruel. Humiliating me is fun for her, seeing me blushing and stammering only encourages her to be even more imaginative. I think she likes that I am older than her, that the balance of power is automatically not what it should be. Now I'm sat by my computer hoping she'll say yes. Hoping she'll use me in my own house. Ava, If I come over I expect a few things from you. I want you to go out tomorrow morning and buy a grey pleated skirt and tie and wear it for me when you answer the door. I already assume you own a white blouse. Hold-ups are also a necessity. This isn't for your pleasure, I know how your filthy mind works, checking out the college girls as you walk to work. No, this is for me, I want to see you ashamed of yourself as I spank your flabby bottom. If I don't hear from you I'll assume this is acceptable and I'll see you at six tomorrow. N PS no frigging. * Saturday. Uncomfortable isn't the word for it. Have you ever tried to find a pleated skirt as an adult? It's not an easy task. Luckily the uniform shop catered for adult hockey players, although I think the sales girl thought there was something very strange about me as I grabbed my change and got out of there as soon as I could. But that was Natasha's intention, I'm sure. I'm looking at myself in the mirror. Skirt that barely comes half way down my thighs, black hold-ups, white blouse tucked in, straining over my chest as it's a bit too tight. I've decided not to wear a bra, knowing that I'll more than likely be punished for being too slutty. The black pencil tie stops just below my navel. My wavy blonde hair is tied up loosely with my fringe across to one side. I've remembered her comment about not wearing any underwear next time I see her. I have perhaps applied too much mascara, I know it's going to be running down my face later. She's here. I've never been so nervous about answering the door, my house isn't as secluded as hers and the possibility of being spotted is much higher, although still unlikely. I pad down the stairs taking in a few deep breaths to try and gain my composure. I reach out and depress the handle, making sure I'm as far back from the door as I can get away with. For the second time she's shocked me senseless. She's wearing a suit, it's obviously a woman's cut but it's slim and masculine. The even more shocking part is the obvious bulge in her trousers. Her long, sleek dark hair is tied high and tight. "Are you just going to stand there or are you going to invite me in?" Her smile extends to her eyes as she steps over the threshold and walks past me towards to kitchen, leaving me once again to follow along behind. "Dressing up is ridiculous when you think about it, isn't it? That's why I've asked you to do it. You are not original and you're not an individual. You are simply a generic schoolgirl fantasy held by millions of horny men, and women, who watch too much porn." She's making me feel more self-conscious. I crave her affection; we know each other pretty well and have discussed these scenarios over email, but when it's actually happening I want her to take me into her arms and tell me everything is going to be ok. "I feel pretty ridiculous." She's leaning back against the worktop, while I'm stood in the middle of the room staring down at my feet. "Look at me." I raise my head and look at her face, the light dusting of freckles make her look even younger than her twenty seven years. Her lips are full and painted a vivid red, she is classically beautiful. I imagine she'd never go out of style. "Take them off. I don't want to play those games, I want to humiliate you, not some character we've invented. You can't hide behind a persona." My hands are shaking, it makes it difficult for me to loosen the knot from around my neck. She takes a couple of steps towards me and wraps the bottom of the tie around her hand and pulls me into her. Her lips are as soft as I'd imagined, this isn't part of the plan, a sub isn't supposed to kiss her Mistress. But then I'm not hers, am I? I have ties to another. She steps back and waves her hand at me, dismissing the previous intimacy. I remove the tie and place it on the table next to me. I untuck my blouse and get to work on the buttons, it hangs open and exposes the swell of my breasts and stomach. "Leave your blouse on." With trembling fingers I unclasp my skirt and let it drop to my feet. The blouse does nothing to hide my bush, which I should have trimmed. My black, opaque stockings offset my pale thighs which have a slight hint of muscle. "Do you have anything to drink?" "Would you like vodka or a soft drink? Or I could make some tea?" "Vodka. Feel free to get yourself one." She remains in the same position as I move around the kitchen. The length of the blouse is just short enough to sit above the curve of my backside. I can feel it wobbling as I pad around the room and become very self-conscious about my body. The lime spurts as the knife cuts through it, as acquiescent as my mind and body. I squeeze the juice through my fingers into the tall glasses already full of liquor and mixer. Some of it runs down the outside of the glass like little beads of sweat. "Your hands are beautiful, Ava. I think I want to watch them at work on something else ..." I pass her the drink and take a large gulp of my own. "At work on what, Miss Page?" "Sit on the table for me, there's a good girl." I place my drink on the counter and lift myself up onto the table top. The Perspex is cold against my skin and I know my cum is already smearing over its surface. "I know how much you enjoy being watched. But even by your standards, you're in quite a mess." She stalks up to me and stops in between my thighs. "Do you always make it a habit to stare at women's crotches, Ava?" Her fingers are on my skin, running over the nylon and down my calves. My eyes close as I'm overtaken with the sensation. All I want to do is wrap my legs around her waist and pull her into me. Might Just Get What You Wish For "Sorry, Miss Page. I didn't mean to ... I mean I didn't know I was." "You have a bad habit of apologising, you shouldn't be doing anything that warrants apologies in the first place. Maybe I should take you over my knee?" The sound escapes and betrays me before I can stop it. I want to beg her to do it but she won't give me what I want that easily. "Show me how you wank yourself, when you're left alone with your disgusting, degenerate thoughts." Hesitancy on my part, it's not as easy as it sounds. I know some part of me wants this but it doesn't make it any less humiliating. This is still only our second meeting and she's going to see something very intimate that should be reserved for my girlfriend. Not that Jen has shown any interest in such things recently. "Don't cry, Ava. Come on, I know you can do this." Her lips are close to mine, I can smell the lime on her breath. My right hand moves down between us and I drag the moisture from inside me over my clit and start circling slowly. The remaining dew from the lime is still lingering on my fingertips, stinging slightly, almost getting lost within the melee of sensations. I'm so wet, the sound of me masturbating is mortifying. She's standing inches away looking into my eyes, holding me in her gaze. My breathing has become ragged, I'm fighting to keep my eyes open. "Don't make me remind you not to cum, Ava, you know that wouldn't be a very good idea." Natasha pushes the shirt down off my shoulders, limiting my movement. "Your tits are just begging to be hurt. Wish I'd brought my nipple clamps." To illustrate her point she simultaneously takes both nipples between thumb and forefinger and squeezes. I cry out, my body leaning forward into her to try and lessen the pain. The sensation is all too much and my orgasm shoots through me involuntarily. "Oh you naughty girl. Didn't Miss just warn you not to do that?" In one languorous motion she wraps my hair around her right hand and gives me an instruction without opening her mouth. I get to my feet, then down to my knees at the insistence of her grip in my hair. She isn't violent, but isn't overly gentle. The kitchen tiles are even colder than the table. She's wearing brogues which have obviously been polished recently. "So, what to do with a young lady who doesn't respect authority. I think you can start with kissing my feet." I lift my head and glance up at her, pleading with my eyes. I really don't want to do this, it's demeaning. I'm cold and naked, hunched over on the kitchen floor, submitting to this formidable woman. "Undo them ... keep your hands behind your back." I lean down and grip the end of the lace between my teeth and pull my head back. The loop comes completely undone first time, much to my relief. The second lace isn't so willing and it takes me a few fumbled attempts to get it undone. Natasha steps out of her shoes, picks them up and throws them to the edge of the room, the noise of them hitting the hard floor unsettling me even further. She's wearing flesh coloured pop socks, her toenails painted black. "Kiss them." I kiss the top of her right foot. The nylon feels soft under my lips, her feet smell slightly sweaty, but not unpleasant. She lifts it just enough for me to suckle on her toes. It's like an external force has hacked my brain and taken control. "I really should spank your bottom, one cannot be lenient with naughty girls or they will keep taking advantage. I said both feet." I'm overcome with the urge to rub my face against her foot like a cat, to spread her scent all over my face and be marked as one of her pride. I settle for soft kisses all over her foot and ankle, adoration not even beginning to cover it. Her hands find her zip and undo it, along with the button of her trousers. I look up and see she isn't wearing underwear so it's relatively easy for her to release her erection. It's smooth, not in the fashion of a real cock and not too big, the rubber shining under the harsh lights. "You're going to suck my dick, Ava. Playing with the grownups now, don't let me down." She reaches down and lifts me to my knees, her cock in front of my face. I stick out my tongue and run it around the tip, leaving behind a sheen of saliva. Natasha is watching me intently, her pupils dilating. She reaches out to grip my chin, pulling my mouth open; I am gaping, begging for her to take advantage of me. She isn't gentle, it hits the back of my throat violently and makes me gag, my instinct is to pull away, but her left hand on the back of my head prevents me. "Look at me." I close my mouth around her and start sucking, looking up into her eyes as she fucks my mouth with her hard cock. I reach up to her hips, half expecting her to push my hands away, but she lets me keep them there. I can feel her hips moving, imagining her arse clenching. My eyes are watering, no doubt my mascara is smudged from earlier. She slows down and runs the back over her index finger down my right cheek, wiping away the tears, smooths my hair from my sticky forehead. "Oh, Ava. You look so delicious. Let's go into the living room and give your knees a rest, I think I've broken you enough." She slides sloppily out of my mouth, drool running down my chin. I must look a mess. She scoops me up and puts her arm around my waist, supporting me. * I've been led to the big leather armchair in the corner of the room. She made me take my blouse off before I sat down and I'm shivering slightly from the chill in the air, and the adrenalin pumping through my veins. She walks curiously over to the vinyl player – I'd told her earlier what I was listening to. I watch her lift the needle and place it in the tiny grooves as it clicks on, the crackling sound never failing to seduce my ears. Shostakovich's Waltz No.2 jauntily fills the small room. She turns the volume up and walks to the middle of the carpet. I feel like my grip on reality is waning. She's pulling her trousers down and off, her cock standing as prominently as before. She removes her jacket and throws it, along with her trousers, onto the arm of the sofa. All I want is to take her nipples between my teeth, to saturate the cotton with my saliva and watch the dark patches expand outward. I can see them poking through the thin material, my need to hear her moaning because of my touch is growing. I want to please Miss and have her be proud of me. Not to spank me as a punishment, but to reward me. My legs are splayed wide, allowing her an intimate view of my cunt. Allowing her to see how engorged she has made me. My arms are at my sides, longing to be able to touch her or myself. "Now is a good time to teach you some self-restraint. You do not determine when and where you cum when you're in my company, understood?" "Yes, Miss." "Up you get. Lean over the arm of the chair, legs together and bum nice and high. Enough of the Miss, call me Natasha." The uncertainty and build up is my heroin. Bending over the chair and thinking about what she will do is just as enjoyable as the act itself. I love the feeling of exposure and vulnerability. I want her to take advantage and hurt me and I want her to be looking at my most intimate parts as she does. She walks out of the room only to return a few moments later carrying a tan leather belt with a silver buckle in her left hand. It must have been hidden in her bag which is still by the front door. I hate to think what else she's smuggled in with her. "Do you want a word or do you trust me enough to know?" "You know I trust you, Mi- Natasha." I bury my face into the chair and brace myself. The first strike is harder and more painful than I expected, I don't want to cry out but it forces a deep grunt from me. She hits me again in exactly the same place, across both buttocks, forcing my whole body forward. "It's not so enjoyable now, is it? You still sure this is what you want?" Third hit slightly lower, and slightly harder. Stinging doesn't describe it, it's blinding pain and pushes all other thoughts from my mind. "Stop, please stop!" "Stop? I'm only just getting started. Who decides when you cum?" Another one, my bum must be covered in red stripes. My tears are real, the pain is almost unbearable. "Oh, please! You do, I am here to serve you. My orgasms are controlled by you." She forces two fingers inside me, meeting very little resistance. My hips push back against her hand, selfishly trying to take. I squeeze myself around them, not wanting her to pull out and leave me empty. "You haven't learnt a thing, still only thinking of your own pleasure." I feel her fingers withdrawn and wiped on my arse. She hits me with the belt again, higher up, making sure she leaves no skin unmarked. "I'm sorry Natasha, I'm sorry. Please, I'm yours. Hurt me and teach me to be better." She throws the belt on the floor and steps closer in behind me. I can sense her urgency, her hands gripping my hips as she plunges into me. I cry out and she reaches around to clamp her hand over my mouth. "Control, Ava. Self-control, that's what I want from you. I'm going to keep hurting you until I get it." I can hear the lust in her voice; she's enjoying this, making me cry. She's enjoying using my body. I can hear her breath catching in her throat as she fucks me hard from behind. Her fingers smell like my cum, it's suffocating me, she's covering my nose too, controlling my breathing. "If you cum we start back at the beginning." She's breaking me. I can feel my orgasm wanting to explode out from me like an alien. I won't disappoint her a second time. Her hips are rolling into me, she's had practice at fucking a woman because she knows exactly how to move her body. She's getting really sweaty from the exertion. With much self-control she withdraws and undoes the buckle of the strap-on, dropping it to the floor. She gently pulls me to my feet by my ponytail and sits in the chair herself with her legs wide. I know what to do without her telling me. I'm on my knees again, face pressed in her cunt. She's sweaty and I can taste the saltiness on her skin. She's unashamedly wet, wet because she hurt me. I lap at her urgently, forgetting all skill, simply wanting to get her off and swallow the rewards. Her hand is on the back of my head, pulling me into her, riding my tongue. "Oh, Fuck, Ava, you little whore. You're good at this, keep going!" I want so badly to touch myself but I focus all my energy on her, hooking my fingers inside her as I continue my assault on her hard clit. She's almost delirious, babbling incoherently and calling me vile names. She explodes around my fingers, liquid gushing out of her and into my mouth. I don't want any to go to waste but she forces me away from her, unable to endure the sensations of the aftershocks. "Jesus Christ, I'm going to make you do that to me every time! Good girl. You can finish yourself off now." Friday. "I know." I feel the colour drain from my face as I try to hide my terror-stricken panic. This isn't about to happen. I've just walked in the door and she's standing in the hallway facing me. The light is streaming around her from the kitchen window, making her look even more foreboding. Time feels like it's slowed right down. She's still in her work clothes, her perfume no longer a welcome smell as I realise from this point forward nothing will be the same again. "Know what, Jen?" My attempt at nonchalance doesn't even fool me. "Don't. I've seen your emails, and I'm not completely stupid. Who is she?" "You hacked my email account?" "You gave me no other choice! You might want to think of a better password in future. Who is she?" I've never seen her look at me this way before. Her eyes are full of hurt, no trace of affection left in their unblinking stare. It would almost be better if she shouted, screamed, hit me. Instead she is keeping a lid on her emotions and speaking to me in a clipped voice. "We met online, Jen, I'm sorry. There's nothing I can say to make this better is there? How did you know?" "You're fucking right there isn't, and I can't believe you're more concerned about why I suspected you were cheating on me! We've built a life together, Ava! Does that mean nothing to you?" Hurting someone you love is perhaps the hardest thing in the world to accept. I want to go back and do everything differently, take hold of my shoulders and shake some sense into myself. I can't forget Natasha, what we did was more than a sordid affair and right now I have no idea what I want or how I can sort this mess out. "Of course it does, regardless of this shitty thing I've done I still love you, you have to believe that!" "I don't have to believe a word you say, you lost that privilege as soon as you fucked someone else! Don't tell me she's been in our house?!" The look of guilt is unstoppable, my eyes dropping to the floor. I can't lie anymore, no matter how much worse it's making this whole situation. "We haven't been in the bedroom. I would never do that in our bed." "I think I'm going to throw up. Get out, get the fuck out of my house!" She physically tries to push me towards the door. We're both in floods of tears but how can I feel sorry for myself? This is my fault and I don't expect any sympathy. All I want to do is make it better for Jen, but I can't. "No, I'm not leaving, let me explain, please." I wrap my arms around her, try to calm her down but she manages to push me away. Her whole body is shaking, her tears now coming out in loud sobs. "Just leave. Please. I can't bear to be anywhere near you right now." * "Where are you?" "In that shitty little café by the station, I'm consoling myself with dishwater coffee. I'm sorry, I shouldn't have called you." The surroundings are fitting for my mood. Shabby seventies orange plastic seating, the smell of greasy fry ups and loud masculine voices coming from the workmen sat a few tables behind me. The waitress had given me her best sympathetic smile as she refilled my drink. "Don't be silly. How is she?" "Exactly how you'd expect her to be. I don't think she could hate me more than she does right now." "I'm sure I'm higher up her hate list. What did you tell her?" "Not much, just that I met you online. Couldn't sound anymore shitty really, could it?" "What are you going to do?" "I don't know. I love her, I really do, but would I have done this if everything was working? And then there's you and me. This is more than just sex, isn't it?" "You know it is, but I wouldn't ask you to choose between me and her, that's something you have to decide for yourself." "So there could be a you and me?" "I'd get to dom you all the time and share your bed afterwards, of course there could be a you and me." "Fuck. What a mess." "Where are you staying tonight?" "I'm going to try and go back and speak to Jen. She pretty much threw me out of the house, which I don't blame her for. I'm just worried about her, you know?" "Of course. Give me a call if you need anything, Ok?" "Thanks, Nat." "Natasha, I don't want you calling me Nat until you've made your decision." She clicks off and I go back to staring out of the window, into a world that still kept turning, regardless of my own dramas. * Her anger is palpable as she pins me against the wall with my arms above my head. She's shorter than me so has to reach up. She feels more powerful than she ever has before. I only make a half-hearted attempt to fight her off. The light outside is fading, the shadows slowly working their way across the room. She's been crying, her eyes red and puffy, make up smudged. The dimples I adore so much are nowhere to be seen, smiles seemingly forever out of reach. We're in our bedroom and all the trinkets and photos of our life together are making me feel overwhelmed with guilt. "This is how you like it, isn't it? Rough?" I'm fighting back the tears, shaking my head. This is so unlike Jen, she's normally so placid and gentle. But there is something between us still, even after everything that has happened over the last few hours. I know she really does want to hurt me. She forces my legs apart with her knee as she kisses me hard, her tongue possessing my mouth, I can taste her tears. I want to wrap my arms around her and hold her close. The pressure of her knee against the intersection of my legs feels wrong. I shouldn't be horny, it seems completely inappropriate and yet I can't help it, this wasn't my plan when I walked in. I'm grinding against her, my underwear feeling increasingly damp. She must have just changed the bedding as the smell of washing powder is floating around the room. "No." She turns me around and violently tugs my jeans down without undoing the button. She is looking at my naked bum; I feel her delicate fingers enter me as my mind becomes even more conflicted. Her other hand is gripping the back of my neck, my forehead pressed against the wall. She isn't gentle, there's no teasing, it's almost mechanical. "You want me to fuck you like this, Ava? To take without asking? Is that what she does?" Jen starts sobbing into my shoulder as she fucks me, the perversity of the situation almost overwhelming. I spin around and grip her wrists, holding them down at her waist, pushing her back against the opposite wall, my jeans restricting my movement. "What I want is for you to fuck me however you want to fuck me. I want it to be you, not anyone else." "I hate you, Ava. I can't believe this is happening. Can't believe you're doing this to me." My lips find hers again, my fingers still tightly wrapped around one wrist, while the other is forced down the front of her trousers. She is just as wet as me. Her sobs are absorbed into my mouth, along with her tongue. She's tiny, petite and at this moment the most vulnerable I've ever seen her. I can't do this. Two months later The rain is beating down on the car, the moor feeling even more desolate than usual. It's like the colour has been washed out of everything. The few sheep roaming around have huddled together next to a pile of rocks, hoping it'll offer them some respite from the biting wind. The sky is dark, the low cloud engulfing the nearby tor. I can smell the damp infiltrating the vents. Sundays have always been a melancholy day for me, but recently they've given me too much time to think about past mistakes and hurt caused. I guess since making a decision it's at least put an end to all the deception. I'm splayed out on the rear seat, back pressed uncomfortably against the door, which is poking into me. My panties and tights have ended up wrapped around one ankle, my skirt pushed up above my waist. There's not much room in her car, she's awkwardly astride my right leg, fingers inside my cunt, teasing me and not really giving me what I've been begging for. Condensation is slowly building on the windows, strands of my hair sticking to the cold glass. We've stopped in an isolated car park, with the hope that no one else is tempted to leave the comfort of their own homes in this weather. This originally started out as an opportunity to discuss things, figure out where we're going and what we're doing, and maybe even take a walk. I run my tongue along the underside of her neck and lick at the droplets of perspiration, goosebumps appearing almost instantaneously. I haven't been allowed to touch her neck before this, she must be in a generous mood today. "Mmm, naughty Ava, I told you no touching." "Technically it doesn't count as touching. You also told me we were just going to talk. This doesn't look like talking." Her mouth finds mine and her tongue flicks inside, her teeth biting my bottom lip and pulling it outwards. A little warning no doubt. Her hair is cascading around my face, enveloping me in her scent that gets me wet all on its own. She lifts her left hand and scoops her long hair back out of the way and looks at me. Might Just Get What You Wish For "I don't believe it's possible to beat the cheekiness out of you, but I'll have fun trying. And we are talking." I love her eyes. Have loved them from the first time I saw them because they portray so much more than her words. In fact I love everything about her. She's dressed casually in a hoody and jeans, the tan belt she spanked me with proudly on display. In retrospect that wasn't the cleverest of ideas because it had taken a few days for the redness to disappear. Her fingers leave my cunt and circle her next target. She's almost drooling as she looks down between my legs, my pubic hair neatly trimmed this time. "No, please, not that. I'm sorry, I'll behave. Please don't bugger me, Miss." The pleading look on my face has the desired effect; I hear the moment her breathing changes and becomes something needier. She likes it when I play the unwilling victim, just as much as I do. "Now you want to do as you're told?" My cum has already lubricated her fingers, they slide inside my arse with hardly any resistance, my back arching up, my hips pressing into her clothed body. I'll never get tired of the dirtiness of her being in my bum. The air is now thick with my scent, it's unashamedly unapologetic. She knows how strongly my body reacts to her doing this and she likes to use it to her advantage. "I think you just lied to me, my dear. Looks like someone enjoys being buggered quite measurably. Isn't that right, Ava? "Ohhh, Nat. Please, I'm your filthy degenerate girl." With her left hand she reaches inside my top, dragging it down and scooping my right breast out of my bra. I can feel my nipple aching for her touch, feel my boob sagging to the side under its own weight. With her fingers still in my arse she leans down and takes my nipple into her mouth. I moan as she grazes it with her teeth, sucking it hard and letting it pop out again loudly. "Say it. I want to hear it from your mouth." "I want you, no, I need you. Will you have me? Make me yours?" Lips on mine again as I feel her humping against my leg. "You're already mine. You were mine from the moment you sat opposite me in that coffee shop."