Leading "sweetness" Further Astray

For those who have enjoyed my prior submissions and asked for others, this story submission is intended to be the 1st of a three part series and to satisfy those requests.

I write for women. And in my stories, I make you, the female reader, the focus and the point of attention...in my stories, the female reader IS the character...my character. My character "Sweetness" has a timid, ladylike persona in public but you have a secret, seething appetite for sex and submission...torrid, unbridled, uninhibited sex. And she (you) seek to be secretly possessed by a strong, dominant man who takes what he wants and draws every last morsel of erotic naughtiness from her imaginative mind and sultry body.

Sweetness...My pussy...Let your imagination go and wander into this realm. In general, my stories are about submission and domination but this one is rather mild compared to prior submissions.

Please, if you enjoy this story, read my other stories posted here, and let me know. But let me know what direction you would like the next chapter of this story to take...where should I take you...how far astray should I lead you...what should I do to, and for you?

The mind is an incredible tool...use it. Offer shape for subsequent chapters.

Now, let yourself slip into the fantasy. Read on.

Chapter 1.

You step very carefully out of the taxi cab. Your short, ultra-tight tube-dress is already at your thighs, reaching just barely below your ass-cheeks. Anyone looking would probably get a glimpse of your shaven and so needy pussy as your swelteringly hot legs spread while exiting. No panties...for you know and obey...no panties in my presence; your pussy is warm and moist.

Once standing upright, you hesitate on the pavement for a few moments, the sinking sun behind you, looking at the tall and strangely intimidating doorman and the regal looking façade of the hotel. You breathe nervously, heavily as the passing pedestrians turn to look you up-and down. The passing men take a second look over their shoulders; some a third, and some never stop staring.

"This is it," you tell yourself. All that time, all those previous dates around home...it's all been building up to this point. Three days ago I sent you an airline ticket to this amazing resort destination and a brief note. The note only had a few directions...no pleasantries, simply dominant, mysterious directions. One said, "Sweetness, My sweet little slut, drop everything and meet me, Yours, Michael." The 2nd said, "Travel comfortably, but change into this outfit at the airport for the trip to the hotel."

And the package that arrived with the note? Well, it contained the tightest, shortest most erotic dress you'd ever seen. You knew to obey, and frankly we both knew you would.

Today. In the heat of the anxious moment. After flying non-stop for many hours, but now dressed as ordered...in that sultry slip of cloth, your 5-inch stiletto heels, and your choker, the fear and the excitement and the shear lust of the moment hits your stomach and makes your heart race as you battle against yourself to decide, are you in or are you out?

The doorman smiles. He knows. You are sure he knows, you think to yourself. Why is he smiling, if he doesn't know? But it is this man's seemingly knowing and annoyingly judgmental smile that makes up your mind. You confidently smile back, point to your very small over-night bag and ask the doorman to call a porter. Then, you strut forward, hips swaying erotically, trying to hide everything, but failing; exposing all your curves and all your fears, but suggesting all your naughty desires.

You enter the hotel and take a look around the huge, dominating foyer. You wonder if I am there yet; perhaps watching from afar; perhaps awaiting your arrival. You feel that you are already on display for me...NO. You know it. You know that this part is my test. Your instructions were otherwise quite vague. But you suspect that I am enjoying the way you feel as you attempt to check into the hotel I've chosen. We planned three nights in this beautiful place and you suspect it will be a very full three nights. And secretly, you plan to surprise me.

Convinced I am there watching you, you gather your thoughts, but hesitate, waiting for the porter carrying your bag to catch up with you before approaching the reception counter. You turn and catch him staring at your ass. Swiftly, you turn back and slowly, carefully walk forwards, legs crossing, hips swaying, shimmering hair flowing down your uncovered back.

Dressed in the provocative short black tube dress that clings to every vivacious curve, your black choker and slinky black stilettos, you don't look quite right crossing the foyer. Amongst the rich, but more comfortably dressed guests, you look too sultry for this time of day. The front-desk clerk looks you up and down, and once again you feel judged. You feel your face flush at the almost prying visual invasion she gives you.

All the third, (and final) part of my instructions gave you was a list of items you were to bring this weekend, (the tube skirt, a bikini, your stilettos and choker and your cosmetics and toiletries), a direction that someone would meet you at the bar if I was delayed, and the name to ask for as you arrive. "I am here to meet...Michael" you announce, determined not to speak shyly. "Michael." That's all I gave you, as if there was only one Michael in the whole wide world.

The receptionist smiles, asking you to wait one moment and retrieves an envelope from back of the desk, turns back and hands it to you. "Michael instructed me to give this to you, he would like you to wait in the bar. We will send your case to the suite, I'm sure you will, ah how should I say...ENJOY your stay." she says with a knowing smirk.

You reach out with your petite hand and quizzically, curiously and cautiously take the envelope; your blue painted nails contrasting against the pristine white paper. When she sees them, she stares for one moment before looking up knowingly into your eyes. You defensively pull your hand back and slowly step back from the reception desk, hiding your hands by folding your arms over your chest.

"Thank you," you say coyly, the confidence in your voice knocked askew by this surprise. "She seems to know too." you think silently. You turn hurriedly and fairly run towards the bar, looking around to see if you can spot me, opening the envelope and beginning to read the note inside as you scurry.

'Good girl," it reads. "You have done well so far, I know you are nervous. Know this; I can see you, dressed just as I want you, so fuckable my dear. Can you feel all eyes watching you? Can you feel the eyes of the other guests, looking at you, suspecting that you are here for some sordid reason? Do you realize that you are every man in this hotel's fantasy, and every woman in this hotel's worst fear? All the men desire you...all the woman wish to be you. Flaunt your beauty my dear and make them all jealous.

You are to go to the bar, take a stool and order a champagne cocktail, I want to see you perch on that high stool in that outfit. I want to see you struggle to keep your dignity in that dress. I will show myself and meet you there in due time, be ready."

You slip the note into your purse and look around again. You think to yourself that by looking around; searching so blatantly only serves to show others that you are not in control, so you stop, hold your head up and enter the lounge.

You choose a stool in the center of the bar. They seem so high. With difficulty, you slide onto the seat, keeping your sultry, seductive legs tightly pressed together, tugging first at the hemline across your thighs, so as to hide your freshly shaven pussy and the dampness on your inner thighs, and then at the chest-line, pulling it up over your heaving cleavage. You sense your little pink nipples stretching the tight fabric for all to see. You feel as comfortable as you can (while obviously dressed for exhibition and exposure). You order your drink.

You sit quietly, sipping daintily-femininely, but soon feel a little giddy as you reach the bottom of the glass faster than is normal for you. Nervous, you order another for courage and shift your weight, crossing your legs to the opposite side. For twenty-five minutes you sit, still but nervous; getting more anxious by the moment...twenty-five long, excruciating minutes when I do not arrive, and when every man in this room gawks hungrily upon you. You squirm uncomfortably, continually trying to both cover and compose yourself. As is occasionally your singular flaw, you begin to worry needlessly that I have decided that I no longer wish to be with you, that you have failed me in some way.

Lost in your erroneous thoughts, a singular man finally works up the courage, walks up and offers to buy you another drink. Clumsily, he tries to tell you how wonderful you look while making a very awkward and demeaning pass at you. The way he approaches and his overall appeal remind you of what you so like about me as opposed to others like him.

My classy, confidence level is like nothing you've every encountered before and that blatant confidence and dominant class, so absent in this stranger, intoxicates you.

You look at him in a disappointed way, but trying to decide what to do...how to react. For if its true that I am watching, could I be testing you? Your mind races. You graciously accept the man's offer, (just in case this is a test), and he sits on the stool beside you and begins to make small talk.

All while he talks, you look around cautiously, paying him little mind? As he talks, he slips his hand onto your knee, rather presumptuously and begins to get pushy, asking for your room number. You hate his approach and wish he would leave...not smooth enough, not confident enough, not dark enough, not at all mysterious, and not at all erotic enough. This is no test.

You thank the man for the drink and ask him to leave, explaining that you are here only to meet someone...someone very special, but he refuses to go, talking louder, making comments about your attire; suggesting nastily, that you are there for one thing and one thing only.

Then you feel a strong arm wrap around you, instantly comforting. Startled, you swiftly turn towards the touch when you feel a light, gentle kiss on your cheek and a strong voice in your ear. "Is this man bothering you Sweetness," I ask. As I do he immediately leaves.

You turn to look at me and I am looking deep, longingly, darkly, seductively into your eyes. You instantly wonder how you could have thought that man might be connected to me; the contrast so startling.

"Hello Michael," you say as I lean in to kiss you, and you fall into my arms. We kiss deep, and I feel your whole warm, quivering body pressed tightly against mine. My strong arms encircle you; the sensation you feel is protective and possessive all at once. You feel my body, strong and rippled, and smell the sweet, manly aroma of my musky scent.

Wrapped in one another's arms once again, the magic is undeniable...our limbs fit like gloves, and the warm embers of desire flame fast and furious. I smell your sweet femininity and your alluring perfume, and feel your soft, girly flesh give way to my every caressing touch. Our bodies touch in all the right places; and you are amazed that you seem to be able to feel every pleasure point lit at once. After several long moments wrapped together where you seem not to want to let go, we finally break.

I take your hand and you slide from the stool. I look at your outfit and smile my approval. You feel vindicated and wondrously confident now. "For you," you say, and spin on your heels to show me your curves from every angle.

"For you," I say, as I first step back and open my sport coat, and then take you in my arms and press my groin hard against your hungry flesh. You sigh, and grip my arm with both of yours as we break. I lead you to the restaurant where we are shown to a very, very secluded but prestigious table.

The time passes quickly as we eat our meal; we talk like it was only yesterday since our last erotic rendezvous. I ask how your journey was; you ask how my day has been and so on. I comment on your nails and your head falls a little in submission.

We finish our meal and sit waiting for coffee. I slip my hand under the table and onto your thigh. You jump ever so slightly as you feel my strong hand slide up your thigh and between your legs. Involuntarily, you spread your legs, and voluntarily slide against me, then down lower into the seat, signaling your desire and displaying your submission. As you slide down, your tight dress slides up your thighs, your ass now almost completely exposed but hidden from the few other patrons by the extending table cloth.

I look intently at you, not displaying any clue to my impending plans. I feel the damp arousal from your sweet pussy that has drizzled onto your thighs. Your lipstick-covered lips part and your eyes close, your nipples strain against the tiny covering fabric. I lean forwards a little, as if listening to an interesting part of a conversation and barely; just barely touch your damp pussy with one long, manly finger. You sigh, bite your lower lips and extend your eager hips in my direction. I speak very soft yet dominantly as I prepare to invade your lustful body.

"You are so wet, and no panties, what a slut you are" I say calmly.

You attempt to answer, but cannot. You merely moan softly and grip the edge of the table as my fingers gently slide back to caress the inside of your thighs, mere inches from your treasure. Your hips rhythmically rise and fall and your chest with them as your breathing grows heavy. "Michael," you whisper as you nervously flick a long strand of hair from your brow, (a nervous but sexy little "tick" you have but have never recognized), "You are working me into a frenzy. Please touch me there again."

You look anxiously around the restaurant to see if people are looking. You sense that they are, but do not care. For now you care only about what I am doing to you. "Keep yourself under control my little slut slut, or I will stop and you will receive no more pleasure than this tonight," I demand of you.

"ahhh yes Mmm Michael," you groan as you squirm under my touch, already desperate to cum.

I lean in close and press my lips into the shimmering hair around your ear. "Listen to me very closely Sweetness," I naughtily whisper as I caress your thighs. "I am going to fuck you so hard and so frequently this weekend, that you will often cream and likely scream on many an occasion. But I shall tease you, toy with you and test you. You are my cum-drenchable, cock craving fuck slut aren't you?"

You nod yes, and I speak again. "While I use you wantonly for my pleasure, you will beg to cum and you will beg to taste and feel my cum. And drench you I shall, I shall cover you in cum, bathe you and cover you again. I shall torment you with my cock for my enjoyment, and when you think that I am through with you, think again. For I will fill you with my cock still again. You are mine to do with as I please...mine to fuck how, when and where I please...mine to feed my cock into every orifice you own. Mine to taste and suck...every last shivering tasty inch and morsel of your flesh is mine. I will both punish and pleasure your raw, quivering flesh and I shall invade both your pleading body, your craving throat and your lusty mind. Tonight, tomorrow and the night after."

You gasp. "Oh Michael," is all you can say as I continue to caress your thighs while I speak, enjoying your frustration, enjoying your predicament. Your face flushes and your eyes close tight. I feel your body tense. You bite your lip. You try not to make a sound or give the game away, but after a few seconds you begin to cry from the pain of containment. "Do you want to cum?" I ask.

You nod, "Yes" forcefully YES, as your face contorts, trying to maintain control, and you bite your lower lip even harder, nearly breaking the surface of your flesh with your sharp pearly white teeth.

"Tell me my slut, I want to hear your quivering voice tell me," I insist. My voice sounds so calm, so certain and so utterly powerful. You think to yourself that this sounds like everything you've always fantasized about...to be taken, to be used, to be pillaged with absolutely no semblance of control...but now, given the opportunity...do you dare?

"Ooh please, please," you groan.

"Sweetness," I say. "This is your one and only chance to change your mind. I shall place my fingers at your lips. If you want to call this weekend off, then push them away. Otherwise, kiss my fingers. I look into your eyes...you look into mine. Neither one of us blinks. My fingers slide up your thighs and again meet your drooling snatch. You gasp and sit up straight. Slowly two fingers begin to slip in. Your legs spread wide, and my fingers slide in as deep as the first knuckles. You quiver.

I nod once, then slowly, every so slowly, I begin to slip my fingers, out, down and off your thighs. You shudder. Your body hesitates to relinquish that touch...your knees clench. I stop trying to pull them away. For several long seconds, neither one of us moves, our eyes are locked upon one another...a dare...neither one will relinquish. Then, slowly, you open your legs and release my hand.

I grin and remove my fingers through the trail of moisture on your thighs, then place them at your mouth. Without hesitation, you kiss them once, very, very gently, very delicately. You close your eyes as you do so. Then, suddenly you cannot contain your greed. You wantonly grab my hand and feed my damp fingers into your mouth tasting yourself on me, sucking them with mad and obvious intent...to show me your unbridled lust and submission to my plans.

Instantly ferocious and aggressive, I slide my fingers deep into your mouth, meeting no resistance 'cept for your delicate, pink, licking tongue and your lips close around them. You suck hungrily, greedily. I push you onto your back in the booth, and lean way over your shaking body. "What a nasty little slut you are Sweetness," I say with a devious, dominant laugh.

"Yes my Master," you say coyly as your eyelashes flutter girlishly...faking innocence. "All my holes are yours and yours alone, Michael," you breathily whisper...the last statement made not so innocently.

With that, I sit up fast and take your hand, pull you from the booth and guide you out of the restaurant to the elevator. You are trembling as we walk, but so overwhelmed with lust and desire that you barely recognize the disheveled fit of your dress, and barely care. I pull you forward hungrily. You skitter behind me, trying to keep up in your naughty, sexy heels. Your tight, smooth, exposed legs flex athletically, erotically with each step. Your exposed thighs rub delightfully with each sauntering, wiggly step. You feel the stream of pussy juice, now drying white on the inside of your thighs. You smell your arousal in the air.

As you scurry you notice the looks from the guests and hotel staff; the knowing smiles as they see me leading; no dragging you onward towards what is obviously going to be a hot and steamy night. Those that pass, turn to take a second look at your suggestive naughtiness. From afar witnesses strain their necks to take a peek. My gaze is straight ahead. Your gaze is from side-to-side. I fairly drag you, like a disobedient little girl.

Alone, we enter the elevator, many sets of eyes still upon us until the doors close. When they do, you swiftly fall into my arms and kiss me passionately; your tongue soaks my lips as you wantonly taste my flesh. But over my shoulder, you see the security camera, and stop, stepping back, at first, startled and your confidence temporarily shaken. But I lean in, pressing my strong supple body against your own and kiss you so hard, so passionately, that you feel my hardness through my trousers and your lips mashed on your teeth.