I’m so addicted to you and from time to time I really feel guilty about it. Since I’ve met you I tend to neglect previously important things. Then I take my frustration out on you because, at the end of the day, it is your fault.
I used to be in control. I used to be self-disciplined or in your words ‘cold’, but these days you are playing me like a marionette doll and you pull my strings with perverse enjoyment.
When we met, I told you I can only see you once or twice a week but you wanted more, so – against my better judgement – I’m now standing at your door. Again. Because you told me to come and because I want you inside me. Or more precisely, you teased me into wanting you inside me.
So don’t expect me to pretend to be happy about it. And don’t expect me to let you entrap me and wrap me into your spider web without a fight. You have brought my resentful, more dominant personality to light and I have warned you, but ignoring my warning, you wanted to meet her.
Well, here I am. Nice to meet you.
So you are the one turning our world upside down? You don’t seem to be that menacing or even intriguing, to be honest, as you’re casually leaning across the black doorframe, nonchalant, storm-watching gaze in your eyes sizing up the gathering cyclone in mine. But I know, what she sees in you; dark hair, bad boy eyes and a hint of cockiness have always been her weakness.
“Come in,“ you say on a matter of fact tone that would suggest I just happened to show up at your door and if so, I might as well enter, when in fact it was you who requested me to be there. But that is where your control ends today, my love.
I follow you into your realm, the heavy fire door slams behind me with a loud bang, letting your whole block know that your little slut is here again.
In contrast to all my previous nocturnal visits, this time your flat is drowned by light that floods the tiny space through the front room French windows. It’s 2 pm and it really feels wrong to be here. Until now, I could pretend that you are just a delicious dream; too tempting, too moreish for my real life.
But not being satisfied with taking my late hours, now you want more. You want my daytime; slowly, almost unnoticeably creeping into my world like ivy, setting tendrils over my body, and roots in every part of my life. Soon it will be too late. Chance is, it was already too late when you put your hands around me on that frosty winter night for the very first time.
I throw my bag on your bedroom floor as you approach with open arms for a mushy embrace.
“Don’t.“ I stop you in your tracks raising my palm against your chest. Stepping back you drop your arms, trying to hide an amused smile; your eyes awaiting an explanation.
You know full well why am I bitter; I told you in the text messages we exchanged earlier. I said I was busy but you didn’t care. You told me how you can’t go another day without tasting me again and feeling my lips around your cock. You learned how to push my buttons too effortlessly.
I look into your eyes sternly, in case you’re still wondering what’s giving me the attitude. I am not going to repeat myself, you need to rack your brains if you want an answer.
This time I’m wearing my four-inch platform heels, my face brought to level with yours and I don’t feel dwarfed by you like I normally do when I’m barefoot. Today, I’m not that courteous girl who takes her shoes off.
And let’s drop all this polite kissy-wissy. We both know, I’m not here for that.
Your hard-on is noticeably bulging through your jeans and I run my fingertips over it attentively. Could you really not keep it in your pants ‘till the weekend?
“I was hard the second you said you were coming,” you mumble, reacting to my wordless observation with your eyes cast down in mock shame trying to hide a conflicting prideful smirk.
“Hah, nice to know I have that effect on you,“ I scoff. The sarcasm is not lost on you. “Lose the clothes then.“ I twirl a finger in the air as if I could cast a spell to get you out of your clothes in a blink of an eye. My words are quiet but they echo back with authority from the walls of your minimalistic flat.
You’re taking your time unbuttoning your shirt. That smirk still lingers on your face even if you try to hide it by biting the inside of your bottom lip. Until now it was all just a game but apparently you find me being assertive amusing. Your arrogance is starting to get on my nerves now.
“I don’t have all fucking day,” I snap with a straight face letting you know that it’s time you took me seriously. While you seem to speed up, my words still earn me the faintest of smiles on your reddened lips.
I swear to turn that smirk sour in a few minutes. “Sit on the bed,“ I bark out another order. You’re butt naked now and your delicious cock stands at attention luring me in. I’m still fully clothed to highlight my authority.
I lower myself onto my knees, wrap my hand around your shaft and comment with an, “Mmmm-mmm,” seeing all the sweet pre-cum- nectar oozing out of the eye. I tighten my grip and milk a little more juice which I then lap up sticking the tip of my tongue roughly into your tight pee hole while I continue to moan approvingly.
I push your knees apart and roughly massage your inner thighs, pushing you down into your soft bed as your cock slips in and out of my mouth.
You sit up straight and try to reach for my hair, attempting to take control like you always do but I bat your hand away.
“Don’t fucking touch me,” I warn you. I rise and step away from the bed to retrieve some silky shibari ropes from my handbag.
Yeah, I always keep a bundle of hemp in my handbag along with a makeup bag, car keys, shades and a bottle of water. Essentials. You never know where you end up in this city. I’m not very good with craft stuff in general though, I can’t do anything fancy with it to save my life. But I’ve learned some most basic knots from YouTube – something that’s called single and double column ties-and that will suffice to keep your nuisance paws out of the way.
The ropes surprise you and you don’t seem to be very keen on the whole idea, but I threaten to leave if I don’t get my way this only time.
And you know, I don’t bluff. Mums can’t get away with bluffing. Because the little shits pick up on it and the whole damned circus gets out of hand. And this borderline blackmail negotiating is like second nature to me. So you better fucking listen and behave.
See, you might be a couple of inches taller and probably stronger too, but I do have power over you. Now, be a good boy staying still while I restrain you.
You lie down on your back, head on your favourite Avenger cushion – how old are you, twelve? Your cock gently bounces up and down while you shuffle down a bit. I run the rope around the whole faux-leather headboard then bringing it back, I secure your wrists to it. One, then the other.
I don’t care what you think, you’re quite a sight and I guarantee you it won’t be the last time I tie you up, I think as I finish my handiwork, pulling the knot tight.
You look so inviting, the craving to be filled nearly overtakes me. I want nothing more than saddle you and ride you till I cum then probably just leave, slamming that goddamn loud door behind me. But let’s not rush ahead and give in to temptation.
I’m contemplating using a blindfold too, to heighten the sensitivity of your other senses and to add to your beautiful vulnerable state. But I’ve learned about your voyageur tendencies already and I don’t want to deprive you of your greatest turn on.
I undress teasingly in front of you, slowly, while you test the strength of the restraints. Hate to disappoint, they are unbreakable.
Oh god, don’t I just love seeing you this helpless? “Mmm, such a rock hard eager cock, “ I tease crawling over you, “I bet you can’t wait for me to ride you.“
Your reply is a deep grunt followed by a bitter resigned sigh.
“I was enjoying giving you a blowie earlier, but was rudely interrupted, I believe,“ I continue, bemused, licking my palm and cupping my hand around your twitching penis.
You grit your teeth not to let those unspoken obscenities boiling inside your chest escape. I know you want to call me a teasing bitch. But you’d better not.
Your wrists struggle against the ropes, your fists open and close a few times. I know you want to touch me, you want to take back control. And you know what, a tiny part of me wants that, wants you to tear off your restraints and overpower me. You are as far from being submissive as one can be, but that’s what makes it all the more exciting. There’s no way you can escape now. I might not be a match in strength but I can tie a damn knot.
I play with your cock a bit more running my tongue around the bulbous head, wanking you the way you love it; hard and slow – I’ve watched you many times to know what you like.
Your eyes are closed and you’re gently riding the waves of pleasure. That arrogant smirk long gone from your face, giving way to desperation and a pleadingly clenched jaw.
I straddle your shin to ease the throbbing in my clit and to make you aware just how wet this game if making me. Your eyes burst open and focus on my naked body as if you are seeing me for the very first time.
“I want you on top of me now, “ you say in your deep voice that’s used to giving orders.
“Nah, thanks.” I admittedly borrowed that line from my bratty elder teenage daughter who perfected it in the last year or so. Of course, you don’t know her, yet so my little plagiarism remains my secret. When she says it, answering back – when I ask her to do something – it makes my blood boil. I’m aiming for a similar effect here, a kind of rage that can only be tamed by the ropes around your wrists.
“I have other plans, pet.” The choice of word surprises me just as much as it surprises you and the hidden feminist in me will no doubt analyse this obvious double standard later. When you are on top, I’m being degraded to a ‘slut’ or even worse, yet you are being called cute ‘pet’ when I’m the one topping. But it suits you and I love having you as my adorable, leashed plaything.
“You said you wanted to taste me. So I say let’s get on with that,“ I smirk kneeling over your stunned face. I lower myself to the perfect height for you to be able to go south on me – or in this case north really – but not to smother you. I’m balancing myself holding on to the headboard and my breasts are pressed against the cold wall which feels amazing on my hardened nipples.
You start with lapping up my juices with a flat tongue between my labia. Judging by the soft moans and smacking sounds, you are enjoying getting lost in me without your guiding, navigating fingers.
I grind my hips lowering myself onto your exploring lips then rising up again till you can barely reach me with the tip of your tongue. We play this a few more times, and you alternate between licking my folds like a butterfly flutter or trying to gently suck my clit. You know exactly how much I love that, you are driving me wild.
I comb your hair with my fingers and gently pull your hair on the top of your head, the only place where it’s long enough to get a grip.
“Come on, stick your tongue in, fuck me with it,“ I growl. I’m drunk on power and you are eager to please, which is the perfect fucking combination, isn’t it?
You can’t go hard enough or deep enough but yet you are hitting a perfect spot inside me, around my g-spot, your nose ever so feather-lightly brushing against my clit bringing me closer to climax.
Pulling your hair even harder, my free hand rakes the side of your head, urging you to go on and bring me to the big O.
“You are such a good boy,“ I praise when you’ve done well, only momentarily wondering if it sounds just as pleasing to you as ‘good girl’ sounds to me.
The dominatrix-me suggests just getting off the bed and walk away but the little slut convinces her that we like to ride a nice hard cock in the orgasmic after-waves.
Before sitting on your throbbing cock, I kiss you because I find the taste of pussy on your lips obscenely erotic and keep fantasizing about one day involving another girl and tasting her on your lips. It would be the epitome of filth.
Maybe, I don’t even need to ask you what you think of that.
Maybe, I just need to bring my bundle of rope and another girl of course.
I share that fantasy with you because I know how much you like me talking dirty and I keep chatting while stuffing my breasts into your hungry mouth.
I know you are trying to keep yourself from cumming, but the stimulus is too much isn’t it?
You are the master of your orgasm and can go on forever, but only if you can stop and slow down as you please, not when my pussy slides up and down in agonisingly rhythmic waves and not when you are tied up.
You beg me to stop, you beg me to slow down, you don’t want it to be over just yet. You like finishing things your way, on all fours pulling my hair, fucking me fast and hard.
But today this is all you’re getting. An unstoppable explosion inside me, flooding me with your hot cum. Because you need to lose control sometimes.
