I read the text from Priya: "I have an entire afternoon free. Do you wish to use me for some of it?"
We had started off our relationship with some intense play, and for a while, we'd been meeting every Tuesday for an hour or two. I had flogged her, caned her, and whipped her. I'd fucked her mouth and her ass. I'd humiliated her. Each time, I'd used her and sent her home. But today was Thursday, and I hadn't been expecting to hear from her.
I had developed some feelings for her. She didn't want me to express them, I knew. She wanted me to be a cold ass dom who treated her like a desirable and useful sexual object, and that had been what I'd been doing. I could do that, and enjoy it, once a week. Did I feel like it now? I tried to search myself for the answer. My libido was voting a strong yes. Eventually I gave in.
An entire afternoon. I suspected what she meant was that I could have my pick of times, but I wondered what it would be like if we went a little slower for a change. "Come on over," I typed. But before I hit send, I cancelled it out.
"Get your ass here now, bitch."
She was anything but bitchy with me. She did what she was told, without complaint. She had been firm when negotiating, telling me she didn't want me to be "nice," didn't want me to try to get her off. But when we were together she was the epitome of a good submissive. A good submissive who loved to be called names. "Bitch" seemed to be the one that got her going the most.
"Yes, Sir," she texted back. "I'll be there in twenty minutes."
That was about how far away she lived, so she was dressed and ready to go.
Eager little slut
, I said to myself.
I unlocked the door and passed the time upstairs at my desk, working on some code. I freelanced, and my time was flexible unless something urgent came up. If I didn't get work done in the afternoon, I could make up for it in the evening or on the weekend. I can't say I was focused right then. I had the option of fucking her hard and sending her away, but that would get old eventually, for me if not for her. This was a good time to try something different.
Twenty minutes later, right on time, I heard the door open. Without seeing it, I knew what was happening. She was taking her clothes off, revealing some exquisite lingerie. It almost tempted me to go down and watch the show, because I'd miss seeing her pretty underwear and her high heels. They would come off immediately after her clothes, because my instructions were clear: She was to be completely naked once she entered my house. After she undressed she would put on ankle cuffs, wrist cuffs, and a leather collar.
I waited, and then called down, "Come upstairs and find me."
She had never been upstairs. We played in my living room. I had some foldable BDSM equipment: A cross and spanking bench. I'd installed a hard point in the ceiling down there myself, bolted onto the joists between living room ceiling and my office floor. There was a small tile that slid in the office so I could check to make sure the hard point was in good condition, suitable for suspending pretty girls in rope.
I heard the footsteps of her bare feet, and then she was at my door, a dark naked vision with her black hair and brown skin. She had lush breasts, a hint of softness in her stomach, a bare pubic mound and a glistening pink pussy.
Hi Priya. How are you?
What I actually said was, "Already wet, are you, slut?"
She nodded, biting her lip in that cute little way she had when she was abashed. "Yes, Sir."
"Why's that?"
"Coming to see you turns me on. Being naked for you turns me on."
"Of course it does. Sluts like to be naked, and they like to be seen. Display position. I have some work to do."
I had surprised her. Disappointed her, perhaps. But I knew she didn't like it when she felt she was exactly getting her way, either, even when "her way" meant what most people would think of as use and abuse. I was not at all surprised when she obeyed, standing with her legs apart enough to give me access, if I chose, and her arms crossed behind her head. Display position lifted her breasts and left them exposed.
I tapped on the computer for a few minutes to get to a good break point and then turned my chair to look at her again. She was standing there as directed, as still as she could be. Her breasts rose and fell with her breathing. I watched for a few moments.
"So I've got you for a whole afternoon, do I?"
Again the look of surprise. "If you have a full afternoon for me. I assumed you'd just take an hour or two, as usual, but -- yes, you have whatever you want from me, Sir."
"Don't I always? Get on your knees and suck my cock."
"Or course, Sir." She knelt on the floor and unzipped my pants. Her mouth was on my cock less than twenty seconds after I'd given the direction. I knew the floor couldn't be comfortable on her knees, and I also knew she wouldn't complain about it.
Her blowjob skills had come a long way since I had first met her. Apparently it was not an activity her ex-husband appreciated. She had mentioned that she'd watched some videos and read a book on the subject in the last few weeks, and she'd obviously picked up a lot. In a few minutes of her tongue swirling and her lips stroking my cock, I was right on the edge.
I looked down at her black waves of hair, and put my hand behind her head. "That's what you're here for, bitch. Making my cock feel good."
She bobbed on my cock even more vigorously, in the process showing me the progress she'd made at deep throating. She made gagging noises and then her nostrils flared, but it didn't stop her from doing it again.
I pulled her off me.
"Keep your mouth open, bitch, and use your hand."
She nodded, and reached up and started stroking my spit-slickened cock. It swelled in her hand. She kept her mouth open, as instructed, and I came hard, shooting rope after rope of cum onto her face, into her mouth, and on her beautiful brown breasts.
She swallowed.
We stared at each other for a long minute, and then a smirk appeared on her face. She knew she'd pleased me. It would be hard to pretend I hadn't enjoyed that, when I came so hard.
"You've become a good cocksucker," I told her. "You suck cock like a whore."
She'd told me again and again she loved being called names, but she flinched when I did it. She took a deep breath as she processed it, the same as some masochists do to process a hard blow from a flogger. And then she smiled. "Thank you, Sir."
"Stand in display position again." She nodded and stood. I wondered if she'd ask if she could clean up, but she didn't. She was such a good girl.
I tried to pretend I was interested in my code, rather than the naked girl with cum all over her chin and tits. What I was actually doing was sorting stuff out in my head.
Lots of submissives like to have stuff done to them. Masochists like to be hurt. Rope bunnies like to be tied up. Primals love to be fucked hard. Priya would take any of those things, as long as she thought it was what
I
wanted to do. But I was starting to get attached. The night before I'd had a dream about taking her to dinner, and ending the evening with a goodnight kiss. Was there something convenient about a girl who would come over, let me fuck her however I wanted, and go home without needing anything else from me? Yeah. So why was I having problems just accepting that? Maybe I was a kind of masochist myself.
Or maybe I wanted Priya to give me even more of herself.
"Bathroom is down the hall," I told her. "Go pee if you have to, and wash your hands, but not any of the rest of you."
She stared at me for a moment, and then nodded. "Yes, Sir," she said, and walked away. Her hips swayed when she walked. I thought it might just be natural sexiness, but it had become more pronounced. She was doing it to be seductive.
Was that because she wanted more of me, too? In our in-between session texts, she always insisted that she liked things exactly the way they were. But spending a whole afternoon together was still going to be different. A step on a path, even if I didn't know exactly where the path led.
I knew where Priya would say it led. Wherever I wanted. But there were limits I had to respect.
She came back to me and stood in the display position without being asked, standing in the door way just to the right of my desk. She'd obeyed directions. There was still cum on her face and boobs. One drop had drippled down to her left nipple.
"Such a sloppy slut. But I like it. Stay there. I want to be able to look up and see my naked, cum-covered bitch now and then."
I got three lines of code written in the next twenty minutes. It was fair to say I wasn't concentrating on work. But she did as I asked and stood there while the cum dried on her.
"Kneel," I said.
She went to her knees.
"Legs open."
She spread her legs, and rested her palms on her thighs. She knew I wanted her to keep them as open as she could, which made it a stressful position. That was part of the point. I let her kneel like that for a few minutes before pushing my chair back from my desk and frankly admiring the view.
"Play with yourself," I told her.
She blinked. I hadn't asked her to do that before. She told me she masturbated furiously when she got home after each of our sessions. I never touched her pussy except to slap it, because of what we'd negotiated, but that didn't mean she couldn't touch it for me.
Slowly, her hand slipped between her legs and she started to rub her clit. Her face started to turn pink, too. I loved it when she was embarrassed. She liked to be so matter of fact about things, it was fun to throw her off her game and remind her who was in charge.
I watched her for several minutes, as I breathed in the scent of her arousal. Her nipples tightened, and her breath grew ragged.
"I don't want to cum," she said.
"It doesn't violate our agreement, and I want to see it. Can you make yourself cum with just your fingers, or do you need your vibrator?"
"I can do it with my fingers." Her fingers were slowing down, however.
"Then cum for me, bitch."
"Please."
"Please let you cum?"
"No, please don't make me, Sir."
Not exactly the normal interaction, but then, Priya was not a normal girl. She'd expressed her desire not to have me get her off in terms of our dynamic. She wanted our times together to be about my pleasure and my will, not catering to hers. I tried not to get wrapped up in the paradox that not catering was a kind of catering, in and of itself. No one does anything without wanting to get something out of it. "Why not?"
"It's embarrassing."
"To orgasm in front of someone?"
"It's what happens when I do." She was beet red now.
"What happens, bitch?"
"I squirt." She bit her lip after she said it, in the most adorable fashion.
"You mean that if you cum you're going to make a mess on my floor?"
She nodded.
"Edge yourself, I'll be right back."
She whimpered, but nodded. She was such a good girl. I could fall in love with her, easily, but that wasn't what she wanted. Not what she said she wanted, anyway. I had to assume she knew herself.
I went into the shower, detached the plastic curtain, and got it off. I'd been planning to wash it anyway.
"Get up," I said when I returned. She scrambled to her feet and I laid the curtain on the floor. "Now my floor's protected. Kneel on that, and resume."
