She stood in the centre of the room, a short dress stopping just short of revealing her panties. Her hands gripped the hem, fingers brushing her pussy ever so lightly through her panties. She wasn't wet yet, but she was getting there, and already the movement was exciting her. Barely the implication of touching, and her mind was already beginning to go wild.
'Did I say you can touch?' His voice was level, without overt anger, but instantly her heart caught in her throat, and she pressed her hands to her sides.
'No, sir.' Her mouth was dry.
'Did I tell you to stop? Keep touching.' He tucked his thumbs into his belt loops, a cold look on his face. She began touching again, and this time felt the dampness under the fabric. Being under his gaze, hearing his voice, it turned her into putty in his hands, a submissive ready to be shaped like clay into the perfect toy, his slut.
Except he wouldn't touch her. He just kept staring, sizing her up as she intensified her rubbing, circling her clit.
'Take off your dress and underwear, then lick your fingers and rub your nipples.'
'Yes sir.' She did as she was told, deftly slipping the dress off her shoulders and stepping out of it, kicking it aside. Being naked made her vulnerable, and that made her heart race even faster, made the space between her legs throb like a pulse. She turned around, presenting her ass to him, and slid her panties down, the fabric caressing her cheeks, rustling pleasantly against her stockings.
Again, she stepped out and kicked the panties aside, then turned back to face him. Balling spit in her mouth, she licked the length of her finger, imaging it was his finger, his boot, his dick. Just as long as it was him, she wouldn't care. Rubbing one nipple, she sucked on her other finger, never breaking eye contact.
He didn't react, just remained there, staring. After maybe half a minute of rubbing both her nipples, a faint gasp left her mouth.
'Stop.' She did.
He turned and sat on the sofa, his legs apart. The bulge of his dick under his suit pants was impossible to ignore. He beckoned her with single finger, and the similarity of the motion to when he was fingering her did not escape her notice.
Her heels clacked satisfyingly on the hardwood as she approached. Suddenly, his huge hands grasped her hips and pulled her down to straddle him. His bulge pressed welcomingly against her wet pussy, and she exhaled. It was electric, setting her pussy throbbing more fiercely than before.
'Grind on me. Grind your dripping wet pussy against my dick, feel it get hard. Show me how much you want it, show me what a good slut you are. You want it, don't you? You can feel it, just under my pants, ready for you. But sluts have to prove they want it. So prove it.'
All whilst he was talking, she obeyed. Lightly at first, then more fiercely, until she was practically dry humping him, panting, running her hands down the front of his shirt, her fingers grasping at the impression of his muscles, grabbing his tie, clutching his neck. And still, his face remained like stone.
Finally, he moaned, a perfect sound that lit up her mind like a lightbulb. She wanted to bottle that sound and get drunk on it like liquor.
'Stop.' She did. Sitting up eagerly, like a puppy, her round eyes met his, her face a perfect picture of neediness, her denied pussy willing her to please. To obey, for the privilege of receiving his dick.
'Get on your knees in the centre of the room.'
She turned, dropping to her knees. The floor was cold, and she imagined her knees would ache very soon. But it didn't matter. Discomfort proved she wanted it, it would prove she was a good slut, deserving his cock.
Now, he approached, unbuckling his belt as he did so. She started. She'd been good. She'd obeyed! Surely he wouldn't spank her?
'Hold out your hands.' He wrapped the belt around her wrists. Once she was restrained, he let his hand linger on hers, looking her directly in the eyes. 'Is that too tight?'
'No sir.'
'Good. Open your mouth.' He ran his thumb around her red lips, a trace of lipstick on the pad of his thumb. He touched the tip of her tongue, making her mouth water. Then he walked behind her. She didn't follow, maintaining her gaze forward. Fabric rustled, and the soft silk of his tie brushed against her face. As it descended over her eyes, plunging her into darkness, she almost began to vibrate.
Anticipation coursed through her like a runner before a race. The faint bit of vision she had of her knees on the floor became shadowed as he returned to her front. Her jaw had grown slightly stiff, but she pushed that down, aware of what came next.
