Love Honour and Obey

This story is in the BDSM category for very good reasons. It deals with strong themes of female domination and non consensual sexual acts. If such material is likely to offend you then please find yourself another story.

Chapter 1

The club was hotter than hell but as the temperature climbed so did the decibels. The mix master segued in a track by Leftfield and the crowd bellowed in appreciation. My two friends were taking their chances on the dance floor but I had had enough. I bought myself another bottle of outrageously expensive mineral water and went through into the chill out lounge. Even here, the ambient music was loud but it was a haven compared to the bear pit outside.

It took a second or two for my eyes to adjust to the subdued lighting and, as they did, I began to think I had made a mistake. Most of the sofas were taken up by couples getting to know one another better and, in one or two cases, not much was left to the imagination. I decided that I would simply call it a night but, as I turned to leave, I saw her. She was alone, her friends now nowhere to be seen, and for the second time that evening I tried to put my finger on what it was that I found so attractive about her.

I usually liked my women petite and she was anything but. She was only a couple of inches shy of my own six foot and her short tight skirt and cropped top gave her a sporty appearance but, as I allowed my look to linger, I could appreciate that she was nicely curved. Her dark hair, now suffering the ravages of the Clubs humid atmosphere, framed a face that was, at the same time, both innocent and worldly. Taken as a whole her features expressed a certain naiveté but her discerning eyes, now turned upon me, betrayed a shrewd intelligence.

She held my gaze steadily and. almost without thinking, I walked over to join her. I gestured towards the door which led through to the Club room.

"Too much for you?"

"Not really my thing."

"I'm Chris."

"Suzanne ..."

It turned out that Suzanne was at the Club on sufferance in much the same way as I was. It further transpired that we shared a love of theatre and the following week she allowed me to take her to see an Athol Fugard revival at the National. After that we became inseparable seeing each other most nights and I began to wonder if I was in love. Suzanne was everything I could have wanted in a woman, intelligent, spirited and, whilst she might not be termed classically beautiful, she had something about her that never failed to turn men's heads. The problem was that I was still only twenty three and Suzanne a year younger. I had always thought that I would use my twenties to see the world and sow my wild oats but here I was giving serious thought to settling down.

After three months I asked her to move in with me. I had my own house, bequeathed to me when my mother and father were tragically killed by an earthquake whilst trekking in Turkey, and I decided that I had rattled around alone in it for too long. I needed to know if this was the real deal but Suzanne surprised me by gently refusing my offer. She did not want to end the relationship but she felt that we needed to slow the pace. In retrospect I guess she was right and looking back I wonder if my offer was simply motivated by sex.

Despite an ever greater yearning on my part Suzanne and I had still not slept together. I knew that she had had some bad experiences in a past relationship but she was not prepared to discuss the details and it was left to me to act the chivalrous knight and tell her that we would only do it when she was completely ready. So, she continued to share a flat with two friends and I formed an ever more intimate relationship with my own right hand.

After a year I knew I was in love and was as certain as I could be that Suzanne felt the same way. It almost felt as if I had regained my virginity and I was now prepared to hold it in trust for her. On my twenty-fifth birthday I asked her to marry me. She accepted my proposal and, to my surprise, she suggested that we went to bed together.

I had often imagined the first time with Suzanne but the reality proved entirely different. Where I had conjured thoughts of joyful animal passion our lovemaking was slow, almost languid, but, as we finally reached a climax together it was the most exultant moment of my life. After that we slept together almost every night with each night much like the first, a slow discovery of one another's bodies leading, sometimes hours later, to orgasms the like of which I could only have dreamt of.

We never discussed her past experiences but I began to get an inkling. Wonderful as our lovemaking was it retained an almost straight laced quality and I wanted Suzanne to trust me enough to broaden our horizons. More particularly I wanted her to go down on me. I was not so crass as to come straight out with it but I thought that if I paid her the favour first she would reciprocate. The problem was that every time I kissed my way south she would shift her body and bring my mouth back to hers.

I had reached the point where I decided that I would have to broach the subject as tactfully as I could when the fateful day dawned. My job as a graphic designer allowed me to work from home and that morning I lazed in bed whilst Suzanne took a shower. When she emerged, with her body seductively wrapped in a short satin night gown, I snuggled down under the duvet so that just my head was visible.

"Think of me while you're out there in the cold."

She hated the cold and I knew that there was a hard frost outside. Trying not to smile she ran at me in mock anger and sprang onto the bed.

"Get up you lazy bugger."

"Nope, I'm staying right where I am."

"Well I'm staying right here too."

So saying, she straddled my upper body, pinning me under the duvet, and I began to struggle playfully. I could not move my arms and so I tried to buck her off but all I managed to do was to shift her a little further forward. Since childhood I have always been a little claustrophobic and for a second or two I felt a mild panic rising. My instinctive reaction was to bridge my body but that was possibly the worse thing I could have done. Shrieking with laughter Suzanne tried to stay put but, try as she might, she slid the last few inches until she was resting on my face. She immediately stopped laughing and for a second or two there was an awkward silence. Panic was still lurking in the recesses of my mind but my thoughts now had a new point of focus. Suzanne retained a reasonably lush growth of pubic hair and at that moment it was nestled directly over my nose and mouth. Almost without thinking I sniffed gently. Her pubis was still damp from the shower and the subtle scent of sandalwood told me that she had been using my favourite shower gel.

Up above me she laughed once more.

"Do you give up?"

The greater part of me wanted to do just that. I could feel a prickle of sweat on my forehead which had nothing to do with the temperature but I was being driven by cruder instincts. I dropped my chin slightly and, opening my mouth, I pushed my tongue into the thicket of dark curls. Suzanne jerked slightly, as though unable to believe what had just happened, and then she remained frozen. I kept my tongue in place for the space of half a dozen heartbeats and then began to move it slowly, almost imperceptibly. I pushed the tip deeper into the undergrowth until I grazed her labia and got my bearings.

Each second I feared that she would take fright but in the closed darkness beneath her I could feel her labia slowly beginning to swell and with that came the first hint of her scent. Emboldened by this modest success I moved my tongue gently through the chasm and then I caught the first sharp taste of her. Somewhere above me she whispered the word "No..." but she did not move away. She hovered barely an inch above me, taking her weight on her knees, as I slowly prised her apart.

Suzanne has very prominent labia and at one time I wondered if she was embarrassed by them but only now, as my tongue went deeper, did I appreciate just how tangible they were. They hugged my tongue with a firm welcome and it was like an invitation to an oasis. She had become wet in an unseemly short time and I swallowed reflexively as a first single drop of her moisture ran over my tongue to coat the back of my throat.

One of the many things about Suzanne that turned me on was the smell of her arousal. It could quickly pervade the room, imprisoning my senses, and was guaranteed to elicit a Pavlovian response from my manhood; but now I could add to this her taste. It was strong, but not in an unpleasant way, and whilst some men will tell you that all women taste the same I knew that it was not true. Yes, I knew that things like diet had a bearing on it but the essence of it is subtly different and that first true taste of her hit the back of my brain like a blow to the head. At the same time my cock strained to an erection so powerful it almost hurt.

She stayed perfectly still, as though unwilling to acknowledge her own highly charged state, but her body could not lie. That first droplet was followed by wet tattoo as I worked my tongue deep inside her and then I gave an involuntary groan as I began to greedily suck at her. Some rational section of my brain told me to move to her clitoris, to try and make this first time as memorable for her as I possibly could but it was overwhelmed but some more primal instinct that had me snuffling like an animal.

In the event, it was of no consequence. In spite of my clumsy approach Suzanne reached an orgasm.

"AAAIIIEEEeeeee..."

It was a keening, animal, sound and with it came fresh flood of moisture and a pounding for my face as she rode out the involuntary contractions. In the silence immediately afterwards it was hard to say which of us was breathing the hardest

Suzanne lifted herself from me almost apologetically and my thoughts immediately turned to my own unfulfilled needs but any hopes I had were quickly dashed.

"Look, I'm sorry, I'm going to be late. We'll talk about this this evening."

With that she picked up her clothes and took them with her into the bathroom. Less than ten minutes later she reappeared fully dressed and made up. She blew me a kiss, said goodbye, and then she was gone. For a moment or two I pondered this gesture and then reasoned that she was hardly going to kiss my face which was coated with a mixture of my perspiration and her outpouring. I closed my eyes and smiled at the progress that had been made. Suzanne could hardly deny that she had enjoyed it and, as I took myself in hand I suspected that the next time I reached an orgasm it would very likely be with her lips fastened tightly around my cock.

That day I could not keep my mind focused on work. I sat in front of the computer in my study but my thoughts kept turning to the mornings' events and I spent most of the time with a burgeoning erection. In the afternoon I determined to be more disciplined but I soon found myself surfing porn sites and waiting impatiently for Suzanne to return. By mid afternoon I gave up and I went downstairs to start preparing dinner. A quick trip to the fishmongers for some salmon and the deli for some fresh pasta and I was ready to be creative. When Suzanne arrived home I greeted her with a glass of chilled Chablis and she set about the simple, but flavoursome, food with a relish. I had prepared a fresh lemon sorbet for dessert and then, after she had gone upstairs to change out of her work outfit, I served coffee in the lounge.

I took it as an encouragement when she came back dressed in the same satin night gown that she had worn that morning but I told myself to take it slowly. She wanted to watch the documentary on the pre-Raphaelites that we had videoed the previous evening and so she sat down on the sofa whilst I sat on the floor and did battle with the VCR. The remote control was playing up and it only wanted to work from close range. After a minute or two everything seemed okay but I was in no hurry to get up from the floor. As the programme started I rested my back against the sofa and idly ran the back of my finger across her bare calf. Under other circumstances the documentary would have interested me but my mind was elsewhere entirely. I grew bolder in my attentions and began to rub the back of her legs whilst seemingly engrossed but if my attention to the TV was feigned Suzanne's most certainly was not. She moved her legs slightly, suggesting that my attentions were an unwanted distraction, but at the same time she reached down and tousled my hair

I gave it a moment or two and then half-turned and gently kissed her on the outside of her knee. If she noticed she did not react and so I pecked a second kiss a little higher up on her thigh. Almost reflexively she drew her leg up out of my reach and hugged her own arms around it as she continued to watch.

My heart began to beat harder and I felt my cock slipping the confines of my under shorts to tent my trousers; if lifting her leg was designed to discourage me it was having completely the opposite effect. I kept my gaze fixed on the screen which suddenly flashed up a still image of Arthur Hughes' portrait of Ophelia. My eyes took in the familiar painting but then, suddenly, my point of focus shifted. I realized that I could see Suzanne's reflected image on the now darkened screen and, more particularly, her sex blatantly displayed.

I guess, more than anything, it was the fact that she was totally unaware that took me beyond breaking point. In a single movement I turned myself and, before she could react, I pressed my mouth against her pubis and began to lick. There was no delicacy about it. I reached under her with broad, feverish, sweeps of my tongue and within seconds her pubic hair was sodden.

For her part Suzanne stayed frozen with shock but then I felt her hand on the top of my head.

"Please ..."

I do not know if it was a plea or an admonition but I was too far gone to care. I worked my tongue inwards and upwards seeking out her clitoris. She applied more pressure and I still did not know if it was a signal to stop or simply to slow down but I was now latched on to my target. My fingers had long since told me that she had a prominent clitoris but I had not realized just how prominent until I paid oral tribute. As I coaxed it from its fleshy home it felt like a child's marble beneath my tongue. It was smooth and firm with distinct hemispheres and, as I deliberately started to tease first one side and then the other,

she began to melt. I could sense her vagina relaxing as she surrendered to my attentions and then I felt something on the back of my hand and I realized that she was dripping. I glanced up and found that she was looking towards the television but it was a glazed look and I revelled in my success.

Her scent enveloped me like an invisible shroud and it heightened my madness. I licked her whole sex, pausing at the apex each time to work her clitoris, and then she began to groan. At first it was an almost inaudible sound at the back of her throat but as she came to the edge it became a mantra which grew ever louder.

"fuck...fuck...Fuck...FUCK!"

Suzanne swore from time to time but I had never heard anything like this and the sheer crudity of it spurred me on. Her body began to spasm and I had a hard time staying with her as she went into freefall. Each time I thought it was over she was wrenched by another aftershock until, finally, she had no more to give.

I turned away from her to get my breath back and I tried, surreptitiously, to adjust my erection which was crying out for some long overdue attention. After a moment or two the silence grew awkward and so I knelt up and opened my arms for a hug. Suzanne had to make an effort to focus but, when she did, I could not read her expression. She looked at my face rather than into my eyes and, for a split second, it seemed like a look of disdain. I immediately dismissed the thought and gave her my best boyish smile. She, for her part, dropped her gaze to my crotch where my own need was self evident.

I was willing her to come to her knees and return the favour, but it was not to be. Instead, she gently but insistently pushed me down onto the floor until I was lying prone and then, in a single movement, she tugged my trousers and under shorts down my legs so that they were bunched around my ankles. It actually hurt my erection as she did it but, even as I opened my mouth to chide her, she straddled my hips and, without preamble, she took hold of my cock and lowered herself onto me. Her pubis was cool and damp but that only served to intensify the sensation as she took me deep inside where the heat of her passion was almost too great.

Her face was set as she worked herself up and down on me. She started slowly but once she had found a rhythm she quickly gained speed until she was bouncing almost painfully. This was not the way I wanted it but at that moment my cock was going to take anything it could get; the only problem was that Suzanne was already approaching her second climax. As it started to take hold I feared that I would be left behind and I reached my hands towards her hips to try and exert some control but she was having none of it. She brushed my hands aside and her movements became even faster. Seconds later she started to pant and then I felt the walls of her sex gripping my manhood. Reading this familiar signal I began to thrust at her as best I could and I started to come just as she reached her own zenith.

When it was over she lifted herself on unsteady legs and allowed me to slip from her. Shattering as my climax had been, after a whole day's anticipation, I knew that I would be good to go again shortly but Suzanne said that she was tired and that she needed an early night. So, it was with disappointment that I waited for her to finish her shower and by the time I had taken my own she was already asleep.

The following morning she had already left for work by the time I awoke and I lay in bed alone with my own thoughts. The previous evening Suzanne had hinted at an animal passion that had hitherto remained hidden and I found the prospect exciting but there came with it a sense of unease. This was the woman I loved, the one I wanted to spend the rest of my life with, and I had convinced myself that I knew everything about her. At the finish I laughed it off; after all, everything in the garden was rosy and even oral sex was back on the menu.

I made up my mind that, when she came home, I was going to suggest an early night. I was still not prepared to ask her straight out to go down on me but I was sure that, with a little careful contrivance, I could lull her into a little soixante-neuf. In the event she phoned after lunch to say that she was going back to her own flat that evening. I was disappointed but her argument, that she had to pick up her correspondence and organize a change of laundry, was irrefutable. I said that I would come over and pick her up later but she declined on the basis that she needed to mend a few fences with her flatmates who were getting a little pissed off with her for using the place as little more than a walk-in wardrobe.

Things got worse. She had to spend two further nights at the flat to meet a deadline for work. I suggested that she work at my place but she laughed and said there were too many obvious distractions. Having made that argument it was hard for me to turn up at her place unannounced which was one thought that ran through my head. Three nights was the longest we had been apart for many months.

We finally got together for dinner and I could hardly wait to get her out of the restaurant and back to the flat. Once home it became obvious that she had missed me as much as I had missed her. As soon as we were in the hall she locked me in a passionate embrace and we were both half undressed by the time we stumbled into the bedroom. We were still locked together as we fell on to the bed and, as I unceremoniously pulled down her panties, I felt a new charge. They were already sodden and I held onto them a fraction longer than might be deemed polite. Suzanne made a grab for them but, continuing to play the fool, I held them up to my face and took an audible sniff.