Letting Me In

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.