Minerva 1

Author's note: this never happened. Minerva is a figment of someone's imagination.

This is the first story I've posted in almost two years that hasn't been edited by my partner. Not edited by anyone, only me.

*****

She was gorgeous. Dark-haired, alluringly sexy, entrancing long intelligent face, waiting outside her flat as his taxi arrived. He'd considered driving, but the attraction of reading on the train won over three hours on the motorway.

Their eyes locked as he emerged from the taxi. She was nervous. He pulled her to him for a greeting kiss, arms stroking her back. No greeting kiss this. Lips yielded mutually and arms tightened around each other. Her soft body, jesus, instant erection. He didn't try to pull back, she deserved to know.

Both were panting when they eventually parted:

-Glad you're here. You'd better come in?

Interesting voice. Assured, in control. He'd known that about her from their emails, but he hadn't heard her speak. His guts churned. Assured maybe, but she was his to use. She'd learn.

-Yes. Thank you.

Inside the door he pushed her to the wall to kiss her, but she pressed him off:

-Later. If I decide I want you. Tea or coffee?

A show of strength. Her eyes were smiling though.

-Tea please. What do you have?

-Coop teabags. Only the best.

-If you're ever lucky enough to be invited to my place, the choice is Darjeeling leaf, or camomile.

-Tea snob eh? Not sure I like that...

-You know I'm no snob. I just know what I like. Old man's prerogative. But coop bags will be fine.

He watched as she made the tea. When it was on the table:

-Sit on my lap Minerva. We need to get to know each other. But get your clothes off first.

She started at the change in his tone. Felt something move inside her. Fuck. Just six words, and her cunt was flooded.

She stripped. Shit, he was just in the door and here she was, wet and naked for him.

He could smell cunt as she slid onto his lap. Took a nipple in his mouth, sucked. As his fingers slid up her inside thigh his teeth fastened on the nipple. Pulled, stretched it.

-Open your legs, your gspot needs wanked.

His mouth fastened on hers as two fingers curled into her cunt. Tugging and rubbing. Fuck, how beautifully wet. What a gorgeous sub. He pulled back from the kiss so he could watch her face, watch its contortions as the sensations surged through her. How gratifying. His hand worked harder.

-Oh fuck oh fuck ooooOOOOOOOOH.

He watched entranced as she squirted the orgasm, soaking his hand and arm. He slid out from under her so she fell back on the couch:

-Legs wide. I need to taste you. But taste yourself first.

She licked the wet hand at her mouth, sucked the fingers. He knelt before her, lapped up her thighs. Into the cunt, smelling, tasting. Delicious. Every woman tastes different, and this was beautiful, tangy, sharp.

-Suck my clit. Please.

He looked in her eyes:

-I need more than please.

Shit, what did he mean? He wasn't touching her cunt now, just waiting, looking at her. His hands moved to her throat, not tightly, but enough.

-Please... master.

He smiled in her eyes:

-You'll need a safeword. Not for now, but for later.

And his face descended on her cunt, lapping, teeth nibbling, tugging her inner lips. She screamed as they sank into her clit. The second orgasm shuddered through her.

He sat beside her and sipped his tea:

-What do you want to do about eating, Minerva? Happy to buy you dinner out.

-Um, there's something in the oven. Hope you'll like it... master.

He pulled her to him, kissed her softly:

-Thank you. I'm sure I will. Now, there's something I'd like you to wear for me.

He drew the collar from his pocket:

-Normally it's my policy to invite the woman to collar herself. Then it's her choice. In your case there is no choice. Bow your head and lift the hair from your neck. You know what this means. You're my slave. For the weekend anyway. It doesn't come off till I leave, not in the shower, not anytime.

Her cunt was mush as she obeyed and he fastened the collar round her neck, his fingers shaking. His slave. Fuck. She hadn't expected that. Fear and excitement jostled in her head. Excitement won.

-Now slave, I need to play with you properly before dinner. And fuck your arse. God, how lovely that mine will be the first cock in there. Bedroom.

-Master? I need to pee first.

-I need to watch you. On you go.

She shivered. She felt extremely uncomfortable at the thought. No man had ever watched her pee. But she'd known there would be a few firsts this weekend.

-Yes... master.

He relished her body as she walked before him to the toilet. When she crouched on the seat, his camera appeared. Jesus fuck. But she had agreed to be his slave...

-Legs wide, I need to see.

She parted her legs obediently and he crouched, peering intently at her face, then her cunt. Shuffled a bit to get the camera angle right. Muffled clicks as the piss trickled, then gushed, from her urethra.

-I'll wipe it, it's mine for now. Stand.

When she was standing his mouth went to her cunt to lap it dry.

-Good girl. Bedroom.

There was a range of toys on the dressing table. She turned and looked him a question when she reached the bed.

-On your back. I need to know how much pain your cunt can take.

He selected a crop and a flogger, put them on the bed, undressed. Thrust his leaking cock in her mouth, grabbing her hair, thrust a few times, withdrew. She looked at his hardness, licked her lips, moved to take him in again:

-It's been a long time since I tasted cock...

-Not now slave. I want to spunk you somewhere else the first time. But now I've work to do. Open up...

He attached the clamps to her nipples first, set them tight. Pulled her thighs wide and picked up the flogger. A nice one, not a wimpy Ann Summers standard. Knelt beside her head, began flogging her cunt, gently at first to get his swing. Then harder. Heard her flinch every time the wicked strands kissed her labia, inner thighs, her hole, her clit. Her cunt blushed pink, then red, moisture oozing from it. He paused and looked into her eyes:

-Your safeword?

-Durkheim... master.

-You'll need it. This is just playing.

He reached for the crop, began a sharp staccato rhythm on her clit. Glanced at her face as the leather played her, her breathing coming faster, eyes rolling up, fucking beautiful. She gasped as he increased the pressure, slaps ever harder, pleasurepain surging through her, moaning now, nearly there, harder leatherlashing...

-Oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck...

She exploded, writhing and screaming, and his head dipped to her cunt, tasted heat and satiation, sucked and licked copious sexhoney. She lay back gasping and he held the crop to her mouth:

-Clean yourself from the leather. Don't want it rotting.

She obeyed and he kissed her mouth, his beard sodden. Licked her ear, whispered:

-Good slave, that was so beautiful. And it's made your arse nice and slimy for its first cockfuck. Knees to shoulders, he needs in there.

-Ohhh... so soon... master? He looks big. You know I've never had real cock there...

-Well, you're getting it now.

She grabbed behind her knees, bent double. Arse and cunt gaping, the ultimate submissive posture for manfuck. His fingers slid sexjuice into her arse. It was already greasy, no artificial lube needed. He knelt below her, rubbed his cock over her cunt, slid it in there to wet it, then pressed it against her sphincter:

-Look at me. This arse is getting its first cock. I want to see your eyes as it takes you.

Her face was strange, a cocktail of lust, defiance and fear. Her eyes widened as his forefingers pulled her anus open, mouth opened to teeth-clenched rictus as she felt cock probe her... force itself in. Intense pain tore her at first. Then a flood of relief as the bulbous head was accepted by her tight sphincter; diminishing pain as the hardness slid in, one slow constant thrust, till she engulfed him completely. She was glad he wasn't huge.

-You OK?

She nodded weakly.

-I can assure you that I'm very OK. This – gently thrusting and withdrawing – is a most satisfactory arse. It needs its first fuck, doesn't it?

Another slight nod. He knew her fulfilment was laced with discomfort, pain; but shit, she was his slave. As he increased the tempo gradually, sweat began to pour off her face, trickling down between her breasts. He pushed her knees apart and bent to take the tips of her distended nipples between his teeth, careful not to dislodge the clamps, as he fucked into her. Tugging relentlessly, stretching her obscenely as he took her. He wasn't going to last long this first time, fuck she was so tight. He left the nipples and focused on sodomising her, painsqueals as he drove harder, he was going to be the first to spunk this delicious arse, balls tightening oh fuck... then electricity in his cock as he surged and pulsed in her. He rubbed her clit and to his joy, she let go. Spunkspurts in the condom and she came with him, her hips rising and writhing to receive his need. He pulled her knees down, cock still hard in her, kissed her panting mouth, their facesweat mingling:

-Thank you slave. A most wondrous fuck, delicious first scene.

She didn't trust herself to say anything.

They lay sweatsoaked for a while, stroking and kissing, recovering their breathing. They started when the oven bell sounded, and his cock slipped from her with their movement. She pushed him off her:

-Dinner. I need to attend, master.

She rose, a bit wobbly. Reached for her dressing gown.

-No. Naked chef.

*****

She was shivering by the time the meal was served and he relented, fetching her the gown, making her stand as he slipped it onto her. He knelt to suck and bite her nipples, licked her cunt wetly, bit her clit:

-Now we can eat.

He fetched the bottle of peach brandy from his rucsac, a glass from her kitchen, and a pint of water for himself:

-I don't want you pissed, but you might be glad of a wee drop: we've the rest of the night. Slainthe.

The vegetable casserole showed real flair. It disappeared fast. His foot was between her thighs as they ate and talked, big toe teasing wet cunt. He needed to keep her simmering.

As he washed the dishes, he turned his head to where she stood beside him:

-How's your arse Minerva?

-Umm. Stretched. A bit sore...

-And your head? Do you want more tonight?

-My head's... fine. And yes. I want to see where you can take me. But no bondage, you agreed to that... master.

-I stick to my word. Now, the dishes are done. Suck my cock. Naked.

He hung up the dishtowel and turned to face her, his dressing gown open to expose the erection. The flimsy garment fell from her shoulders as she knelt, and her lips closed round his cock. This felt really strange, the smell, the spunk clinging from where it had been trapped inside the discarded condom, the taste of latex. And the sensation of him in her mouth. She knew she wasn't very good at this, hadn't had cock in her mouth in years. So she played with the head at first, taste and texture.

He wanted into her throat, but knew this was strange to her, so he was patient. Held her head gently, only slight thrusts to begin with, but as he felt her confidence grow his grip became tighter and he started to fuck her face, cockhead touching the back of her throat. She gagged and spluttered but kept going. Fuck, if she kept this up he was going to spunk her, and that had to be for later. He reluctantly withdrew but held himself close to her face, mouth and cocktip linked by a string of saliva and precum. Then his fingers wrapped in her long hair and he dragged her up from her knees to face him.

-Thank you for a delicious dinner slave. And for that service for me. To show my gratitude properly you need a present. Come.

He dragged her by the hair into the bedroom:

-Bed, on your back.

-Yes master.

That word wasn't coming with diffidence any more.

-I think we need some scent.

He withdrew a candle and lighter from his rucsac, set the candle on the bedside cabinet, lit it:

-You're shivering slave. You need warmed up.

She watched impassionately as he held the candle over her nipple. Tilted it. She didn't move as the trickle of wax hit, solidified. Fuck... but she remained silent, face betraying nothing.

He was impressed:

-You're not warm enough yet.

The other nipple. This time she flinched. His hand went to her cunt. Slithery. His erection was dripping as he pulled her thighs wide. Swollen cuntlips, nicely parted to reveal her engorged clit. He lifted the candle again, watching her eyes. Fear and need. Good:

-Hold your legs wide so you're completely exposed.

She complied wordlessly, tensed. He held the candle low for accuracy and she felt the heat. Tiny hairs on her thighs singed when he deliberately moved the candle. Then it was over her clit.

-FUUCK

Her scream echoed in the room and he snuffed the candle.

-Nice and warm now Minerva? Thank you, you did very well.

He lay beside her, held her to him. Her arms went round him, clasped him tightly. He kissed her mouth. It responded, slack and wanton. His lips moved over her face, tongue lapping the wetness. He knew they were more than pain-tears. She was far out in subspace, eyes closed. They were closer than they had been all evening. That wouldn't do, against the rules. 'No love, no commitment.'

He rose, his cock throbbing with need. But that wouldn't do either, not at this stage. Too intimate. So he donned his gown and went to make tea. When he returned with the mugs she remained as he'd left her.

-Minerva?

Her eyes fluttered open. Gazed at him, still somewhere else, but returning.

-Master has brought his slave tea. A different type of warmth. Drink.

She struggled onto her elbows, facing away from him. Lifted the mug and sipped. Tea dripped on the bed from the slight tremor in her hand. His hand touched her shoulder lightly:

-I know you need space Minerva. I'll go and read. I'll check on you presently.

He slid his gown on, took his tea and Cormac McCarthy, and left her to bury himself in the novel. When he returned twenty minutes later she was sitting up in bed reading Marge Piercy.

-More tea Minerva?

She beamed:

-Yes please... master.

He grabbed her nipple and twisted it hard:

-I'm just master this weekend, remember. I haven't read Piercy in twenty years.

-I'm... a little surprised that you know her, master.

-I've been a feminist since my mid-twenties. My ex-wife and my women comrades saw to that. It changed my world, and Piercy was an important part of the process. 'Woman on the Edge of Time' is one of two convincing Utopias I've read, with William Morris's 'News from Nowhere'.

He left to get more tea. She wondered about this strange man; dom and human being.

He returned with the tea:

-Ready for more, slave?

And she'd thought he was in human mode for a minute...

-I need more master.

-Don't waste your tea.

As she sipped, he fiddled to attach the clamps to her hard nipples. Then parted her legs. Sucked and nibbled her clit to make it engorge, and slid the clamp onto it. Her tea spilled. She put the mug down carefully, panting.

He took the peeled finger of ginger, carefully carved, from his rucsac.

-Hold your legs up slave.

She complied. The hot core of ginger slid into her anus, held in place by the indentation round the base. He watched her eyes. Then brought the piri piri bottle from his store of tricks. Carefully dripped some on her clit. Rubbed it in.

She exploded, expelling the ginger from her arse with the force of her contractions, writhing and moaning. He knew he'd gone too far, though there was no 'Durkheim'. He bent and lapped the sauce from her cunt, burning his mouth:

-That better?

-Yes master.

Such control. He looked at her, admiration and lust mingled.

-On your face now. I'm sure you know the posture.

-Yes master.

She slid over, her arse deliciously displayed for him. She shuddered when he pressed the plug of ginger back in her anus. He hefted the leather belt.

By the time he was finished, her arse, back, and thighs were glowing red, and he was pouring sweat. She hadn't uttered a sound. The ginger protruded yet from her anus. He felt her cunt. Liquid coated his fingers. His cock had never been so engorged. Grabbed her hair, rammed into the cunt gaping before him. She deserved this and christ she would get it. Their evening had made him an animal, and he fucked like one. No thought of the woman whose head was jerked by the hair, no thought, just feral lust. Hard and wicked, slapping her arse, fucking and taking, his, all his. Her throat was stretched as her head was forced back further and his cock plundered her insistently. His balls tightened, hands went to her throat, fastened round it. Then one hand went to her clit, savaged it. The convulsions shook her as his spunk filled the condom. Eventually they collapsed together soaked with sweat. He kissed her.

-That was beautiful Minerva. Thank you.

They needed no other connection. This was just about rough sex.