Never Enough

Chapter Two: Stephen

When I divorced Jack, I got my life back on track and decided to do something with my law degree. I got a job. I dated a lot. I got a better job. And then got promoted a couple of times.

And then one day I met Stephen. We were both barristers, both working hard, building our careers. We'd been flirting for months by the time he asked me out. And so started a decade of the happiest I've ever been in my life.

Stephen is wonderful. Handsome, and energetic, and talented, and generous. He loves sport, and he's very athletic and healthy, and he has a real presence in any room. A calm, confident charisma.

He turns me on a lot, and we have a lot of sex.

Of course he knew all about me and Jack. You'd have to have been living under a rock to not. And on our third date, right there at the restaurant table, he asked me a question that stopped me in my tracks.

"Do you like to be dominated?"

I hadn't been expecting that question from this kind polite upstanding man, but the twinkle in his eyes as he asked gave me a little tingle of arousal.

"Yes," I said simply, biting my lip.

He nodded slowly, considering this. "So if things continue to go well with you and me, would you like it if I dominated you?"

I contemplated him, excited, and amused, and thoughtful. "Well it depends what you're suggesting?" I said, flirtatiously.

"Well I've seen all those photos of you, and I've often thought that I'd love to spank you."

I raised my eyebrows. We were talking quietly, but having this conversation in the middle of a restaurant was thrilling. "Oh, have you now? Well you did give me a little slap when we had sex on Friday."

"And did you like it?" he asked, a little smile at the corners of his mouth.

"Yeah," I said, biting my lip again. "I really did."

"Well," he went on, taking a sip of wine, " In that case, a bit later on, how about we go back to mine again, and we try it out a bit more?"

"Okay," I smiled, and I felt my pussy wetten.

So there you go. My reputation as a submissive went before me. And for me and Stephen on our third date, it started there.

Let me tell you about the next two days, starting with that very night.

And that night, as soon as we were through the door, we were kissing, with me up against the wall.

Stephen has an elegance and power in his movements, and the way he expertly turned me round to face the wall and began kissing my neck and shoulders had me groaning with desire. I love to be positioned where he wants me.

He unzipped my dress, and removed it with two easy motions, leaving me wearing nothing but my black G-string and my high heels.

And then he took my wrist and led me over to his generous sofa, and threw me over the arm of it, so I was bent over away from him.

He took a twist of my hair in his left hand to hold me still, and began to spank me. No build up - just a proper spanking as if I'd just done something very naughty.

I was absolutely astonished at how hard he spanked me - harder than Jack ever had - and I could hardly catch my breath for squealing out in pain.

In fact, Jack had never given me "a spanking". He did like to slap my bottom quite a lot, but not like this. Not an actual spanking like Stephen was giving me - hard and disciplinary.

I had no idea how long he'd been doing it, but my bottom was on fire, and every slap hurt so badly - especially when he hit the same spot for two, three, or four times in a row.

I remember thinking that I was at my limit, but I couldn't find the words to stop him. And I didn't want to stop him.

And when he did stop, he helped me stand up, and looked into my face to see how I was.

I realised at the same time that he did that my eyes were wet.

Being a very kind man, I thought he might apologise and be worried he'd gone too far, but he didn't. He just gently wiped away one of my tears, and pulled me to him, and held me, caressing and smoothing and soothing my bottom. It was lovely.

"Did you like that?" he asked me.

"Yes," I breathed.

"Good girl. Then that's something I'd like to do every time I see you."

My heart skipped a beat.

"Every time?"

"Yes."

"But you're seeing me tomorrow for that exhibition."

"That's right," he said, continuing to stroke my stinging bottom. And then he slid his hand between my legs.

I moaned softly at his touch. God it felt so good.

He said: "You did enjoy that."

And we stood like that for some time, his large hand on my punished bottom, his fingers playing with me, and I arched my body back to give him as much access as he wanted.

That submissive stance that comes so naturally.

And I knew in that moment, longing to be fucked by him, longing for his cock - wanting him to make me his - that this was the perfect man for me.

He moved his manly fingers inside me until I was beside myself with sexual and submissive desire, and then he said: "Now get back in that position because I'm going to fuck you."

-----

The fourth date

When Stephen arrived the following evening, I opened the door and kissed him immediately. Passionately and urgently.

"I've been waiting for you," I told him as we kissed.

"I've been looking forward to seeing you too," he said. "I feel like we're starting out on something very exciting together."

I made a noise of agreement. A sexual sound of longing and pleasure.

I was wearing a tight little black dress with nothing underneath, and he began to peel it up now. All the way up to my stomach.

And then with his hands on my hips, he moved me away from him, despite me craning my neck forward to keep kissing him.

He didn't comment on my lack of underwear. "Turn round," was all he said.

As I did so, he gently traced his fingers over my bottom.

"Amazing," he said. "You'd hardly know that I'd spanked you at all. How does it feel?"

"A tiny bit tender - a bit bruised."

I looked at him anxiously over my shoulder, wanting his approval, but not sure whether that would earn me it.

He said nothing, but just nodded, just exploring the shape of my bottom with his fingers.

I marvelled at how we'd got here. Yesterday had been a turning point. He owned me now, and I loved it.

"Well," he said at last. "You seem to have a very resilient bottom. So I think I should make it sting again now. I wonder if it'll hurt more today?"

My stomach flipped with nervous excitement as he led me to my little kitchen table and pulled out a chair and sat in it.

He patted his lap, and I saw that he expected me to get over his knee.

"Oh god," I breathed. I was so turned on as I got myself into position. This was the most erotic thing I'd ever done. Something about being over his lap to be spanked touched something deep inside me that made my whole body tingle with excitement, and my pussy become instantly wet.

This time he caressed my bottom for a long time, his fingertips so close to my wetness, but never actually touching me there.

I parted my legs a little to give him access, desperate for him to finger me. But all he did was touch me everywhere else but there. He softly stroked my anus with the tip of his finger as his other hand moved back and forth over my thighs, and back, and hips.

My whole body was alive to him. It was a state of blissful unfulfilled longing.

When he finally began to spank me, it was very gentle. Little slaps to the lower part of my bottom, where the flesh made a little smacking sound. It felt nice - but I wanted it harder. Much harder.

And I got my wish.

My spanking built up gradually. And by the time he was slapping my bottom every bit as hard as yesterday, I was unbelievably desperately turned on.

Once again, I had a moment where I thought I couldn't take much more. But I knew from yesterday that I could.

I felt totally owned by him. Just draped over his lap, my dress yanked up, being spanked by this sexy man just because he wanted to.

Then his punishment got even harder, slapping the same part of my poor bottom over and over and I writhed on his lap, panicking because it was more than I could tolerate.

"Please!" I cried out, and put my hand round to protect myself to make it stop.

But he simply took my wrist and with his strong arm just pinned my arm against my back and carried on.

There are no words to adequately describe the experience. I was in my "subspace".

I was in a sort of euphoric state where I lost control of myself. The only thought in my head was how erotic it was to be here over his lap being punished like this. How I needed it. I would submit to literally whatever he wanted to do to me. I wanted him to have his way with me.

When he finished, he rubbed my bottom gently, soothingly. It felt absolutely on fire it was stinging so badly - I had been thoroughly and soundly punished.

And why? Purely because he wanted to.

"Okay, he said at last. "You can stand up now."

I awkwardly did as I was told, and stood there with my tight little dress gathered round my tummy.

He looked into my eyes, with a kind twinkle in his. He seemed completely calm and in control, but there was an intensity in the way he held my gaze. There was absolutely no mistaking what was going on here. He was absolutely in charge. And I would do whatever he wanted.

"Kneel down," he said simply, which of course I did, my knees on the hard parquet floor.

And then he undid his belt, slid it effortlessly from his trousers, and then flexed it between his hands.

"I'll use this on you tomorrow," he told me. "But for now, we have just a little bit of time before we need to set off to the exhibition. Enough time for you to make me come in your mouth."

He looped the belt and slipped it over my head. The leather felt smooth and warm as it tightened round my neck, but the buckle was cold. He used it, like a leash, to pull me towards him, his legs apart.

I was obliged to crawl on hands and knees for a short distance, until I was kneeling there between his legs.

He let go of the belt, and it dropped down, slapping my tummy, hanging from my neck.

I could see his erection bulging under his trousers, and I looked up to see if I was allowed.

He understood my look, and he nodded.

And so I immediately undid his trousers, and pulled his boxer shorts down enough to free him, his magnificent cock standing up, huge and throbbing.

I was so unbelievably turned on as I looked at it. I wanted it so much.

He put his hand down and lowered his cock so that his bell end touched my lips, and then slowly pushed it into my mouth.

I had never had such a big cock in my mouth. He slid it in until it was at the back of my throat, and then sat back a little to let me pleasure him, which I did eagerly.

I moved my mouth up and down him, making the sensation as soft and wet and delicious for him as I could. When it was just his bell end in my mouth, I'd zig zag my tongue in fast little movements up to the sensitive tip of him, before then taking his whole cock into me again - or as much of it as I could fit.

Over and over I repeated this, and I could hear from his breathing what it was doing to him.

I stopped and spent a few moments caressing his bell end with my tongue, licking him like a delicious ice cream, playing gently with his balls at the same time.

But he took hold of the belt again, and used it to pull me slowly but firmly back down onto his cock, until I was nearly gagging on him. And then he'd relieve the pressure and I pulled back, licking the underside of him all the way, before he pulled me back down again.

In this way, he guided my movements as he slowly fucked my mouth.

I can't tell you how erotic and exciting I found this.

I was back in my subspace. I couldn't imagine anything more perfect than this - punished until my bottom was red and sore, and then being made to take his cock in my mouth.

I'd gone down on him twice before this point, but not like this. Those times had been initiated by me, and had been playful foreplay to the lovely sex we were about to have.

But this was different. He was in control, and I was there purely to satisfy him. There would be no sex after this. I was his sex slave.

He was breathing hard, nearing his orgasm.

"Use your hand," he told me.

And so I wrapped my fingers round his massive bell end and began to wank him in fast little motions.

I'd judged it just right, because I felt him swell even more, and he let out a low groan which told me that this would tip him over the edge.

I kept my mouth open, and I could see that he liked how this looked - my sexy mouth hungry to swallow his come.

And come he did. Hard.

I have always loved this. Someone coming in my mouth - not because I like the taste or the sensation, because I don't really. But because I love the mild degradation of it. The imbalance - the unfairness that I don't get to come - just take their cock in my mouth, and swallow their come.

So even with partners who didn't look at it like that at all, in my head that's where I liked to go.

And Stephen, more than Jack - more than anyone - made this fantasy real.

As he came on my tongue, I kept wanking him for a moment more, and then took his cock into me again, simulating the same motion with my lips around his hard ridge, wanking him with my mouth, eliciting more surges of his thick come.

There was a lot to swallow, and a lot of cock in my mouth to lick clean.

It was him who finally stopped me after a few minutes by withdrawing from my mouth.

"Good girl," he smiled down at me.

I didn't smile back - I was too consumed by my horniness. He saw this and chuckled.

I moved my hand between my legs, and slid a finger between my pussy lips. I was so so wet, and it felt amazing.

"You'll have to wait until later for your orgasm," he told me.

I groaned, fingering my clitoris, my pussy throbbing with desire.

"Please will you touch me?" I asked, using my big doey eyes. I was so desperate to be pleasured - or ideally fucked. Hard. But his cock was only semi hard now after his release.

"No," he replied, still smiling.

"Oh please," I pleaded. "Just a little bit?"

"No. And it's time to leave for the exhibition."

He stood up, putting his cock away and doing up his trousers.

He leaned down and used the belt to guide me to standing.

Gently, he loosened it and took it off me, dropping it onto the sofa next to him.

He moved my hand away from between my legs, where it still hovered, and pulled my tight dress back down into place.

And then he put his fingers gently under my chin and kissed my mouth softly. Sensually.

"Time to go," he said.

A few minutes later we were walking along the pavement. He'd given me no time to compose myself, or do anything in fact. He'd put on his belt, picked up his phone and my little bag, and left.

And now here I was in my very short dress, my pussy wet and throbbing, massively sexually frustrated. My bottom was stinging badly from being spanked over his knee.

And the whole thing turned me on so much I didn't know what to do with myself.

Well of course I did what came naturally to me. I was pliant, and submissive. I draped myself against him.

I did everything I could to get him to touch me, to turn him on, to tempt him.

But he didn't respond to any of it, other than to smile quietly, enjoying the state I was in. He had his arm round me, but that was all.

I longed for him to grope my bottom, or at least to snog me. But he didn't.

He was sexually satisfied, and heading out for the evening feeling relaxed and content.

I couldn't think about anything other than what had just happened, and how I wanted more play - even if it was more denial for me, it would be something.

The idea of being treated like this is so powerfully arousing for me.

The reality is very hard to manage though.

I know now, from a lot of experience of having been together with Stephen for 10 years, that the thing that makes it easier to function when you're insanely turned on and sexually frustrated, is to be distracted with other things.

And so once we were at the exhibition and I was being introduced to his friend Mark who was the artist, the feelings of horniness thankfully subsided.

It's actually no fun at all to be so turned on, with no outlet for it.

So we enjoyed an hour or so of chatting, and drinking nice wine, and wandering around looking at the paintings - which were extremely good.

But when I went to the toilet, I looked at myself in the mirror and was shocked.

I hadn't even had a chance to look at myself before we left, but I could see now that my mouth was sore. My lips were a tiny bit swollen and red around the edges, from him fucking my mouth.

There was nothing I could do about it of course.

And the more I looked at my mouth in the mirror, the more I thought about what had happened before we left.

It made my stomach flip to think that he'd fucked my mouth so hard that my mouth was sore, and now everyone could see that.

My bottom was still stinging, and since there was no one else in the toilet, I decided to take a look. I stepped back from the mirror, turned round, and peeled my dress up.

Oh god, what I saw turned me on so much. My bottom was glowing red from my punishment. It looked so sexy. He'd done a very thorough job of spanking me.

Just then my phone pinged.

I pulled it out of my bag and saw his message asking me if I was okay.

"Just looking at my spanked bottom," I replied.

I could feel myself getting wet again as I awaited his reply. I hoped he would ask for a photo.

My phone pinged. I was right - that's exactly what he wanted.

I obliged, and then, hearing footsteps, I pulled my dress back down and busied myself at the mirror as an older lady came in and went into one of the cubicles.

His reply arrived. "Oh I like that a lot. What a beautifully punished bottom you have. Does it turn you on?"

I replied simply: "Yes."

I ruffled the sides of my hair a little, and was just about to leave the toilets when his next message turned up.

"As you leave the toilets, pull your dress up enough to expose a whole inch of your spanked bottom."

My heart skipped a beat. I stared at the message for a moment, thinking.

I went back to where I'd stood before and turning round, I tugged gently at the dress, ruffling it a little bit at the waist, to raise it until the deep pink marks of my punishment were visible on the backs of my thighs.

An inch was actually quite a lot.

I checked the front. My pussy was covered. Just.

Leaving the toilets I felt super self conscious, and massively aroused, and slightly terrified.

He was stood on the other side of the room looking at me and smiling.

I grinned despite myself as I made what felt like the very long walk to where he waited for me. It was so hard to resist the urge to pull my dress down.

I didn't look around - purely at him, but I could see people registering me.

He looked me up and down repeatedly, and when I got to him, looking so handsome in his white shirt and jacket, he put his hand on my lower back and pulled me to him and kissed me. He bit my lip softly as he withdrew, and then, right there in the art gallery, he held my hand up high above my head.

Panicked, I protested in a hissed whisper: "No, Stephen, that's pulled my dress up even more!"

But he simply said: "Turn round for me".

Blushing, and keen to just get it done, I shuffled round 360 degrees as if we were dancing, and I saw that lots of people were watching and looking me up and down. I was sure that some of my pussy would be visible and I was mortified.

Once my twirl was complete, he lowered my hand, and took hold of the other one, holding them tight as I struggled to pull them away. I wanted to tug my dress back down, and he knew it.

I didn't keep struggling though. I didn't want to cause a scene. And more than that, the way he was looking at me, full of confident playfulness, and raw sexual desire, I acquiesced immediately. I felt myself getting wet again.