Provoe Me

I let myself into the room, having picked up the second key from reception. God knows what they thought when I strutted in dressed in not much, lace, and red fuck-me heels with black stockings, but I don't really care: this is your treat for getting your new job, and I intend to make the most of it. I dump my bag on the coffee table and take my six pack of Jacks & coke to the fridge, opening the door and bending over to shove it on the bottom shelf. Your low chuckle startles me, and I spin around to find you leaning against the kitchen counter.

I grin and close the door.

"Hello... sir."

Your mouth twitches.

"Don't 'sir' me, young lady- after that bend your spankometer is off the charts. Black lace hipsters?"

I put my back to the fridge and slowly draw my skirt up with one hand, smiling coyly as the full length of my leg is revealed as well as the bottom of my underwear.

"You can rip them off me later. Did you want a drink to start?"

But you're already crossing the distance between us.

"No. I want to tan your backside."

Surprised, I let you wrap one arm around my waist and steer me away from the fridge.

"What?"

"You'll see."

I'm vaguely off put but struggling against you is useless, so I let myself be dragged into the lounge area and watch as you sink onto the couch.

"What are you up to?"

You hold out your hand and grin.

"Turning the tables. Come here."

I don't quite know how it happens, but in one smooth movement my legs are knocked out from under me and I'm looking at the carpet. I'm completely off balance, across your lap with the beginnings of an erection digging into my stomach and your left arm on my back to keep me in place. My toes, in their red heels, barely touch the ground.

"You're going to keep your boots on?" I ask cheekily, upside down and wriggling.

"Stay still," you growl, and without preamble deliver the first smack over my skirt.

"Ooh, open hand," I say with a wince, feeling my backside stinging.

But you flip my skirt up onto my back and swiftly spank the other lace-clad cheek, ignoring my wordless protest at the indignity.

"You deserve it, witch, after that 'sitting opposite each other self stimulation' comment last week. You make it hard to think straight."

"Screw you," I mutter in-between smacks, trying to push aside the heat that's spreading from my backside to other parts of my body. But I should have just shut up, because you suddenly clamp your left hand over my mouth and proceed to smack me harder.

"Ungh!" I moan against your palm, fingers digging into your calves as my backside gets rosier and rosier. How can I love and hate those boots at the same time, I think irrationally after sixteen blows -- yes, I'm counting them, aware that I'm so turned on that my underwear is already soaked. As if hearing my thought you pause and hook your fingers into the top of my panties, yanking them off my backside and down my stocking-clad legs.

"Hmm, I knew you'd like this," you comment, dangling them in front of my flushed face. I try to turn away, embarrassed, but your other hand is still over my mouth and I can't move. "I owe you twenty-six strokes, and I'm looking forward to finishing them."

I clamp my thighs together, but it's too hard to concentrate as you resume the spanking and they ease apart, until I know that my juices must be on your jeans.

"Twenty-four, twenty-five, twenty-six," you count out the last smacks, making a pleased noise in your throat every time I jump. The mix of shame and arousal has left me trembling, and I groan at the light brush of your fingers over my backside.

"God, I wish you could see this- bright red, and you loved every minute of it."

I pant against your palm as you explore my exposed areas with your right hand, snapping the tops of my thigh-highs against my skin, tracing the curve of my buttock and dipping teasingly between my legs; though I think even you're shocked at how wet I am. Abruptly you put me back on my feet, standing to catch me as the blood rushes from my head and I sway. As full sensation returns to my lower body my backside starts to ache, but you halt my hand when I try to pull my skirt back down.

"I don't think so. Sit down on the other couch."

You indicate the single chair opposite the lounge, and when I'm steady enough give me a small push in that direction. I lower myself gingerly onto it, biting my lip waiting for red skin to touch down. The fabric of the couch abrades my sore backside, adding an extra touch to my already confused pleasure/pain sensations.

"Put your legs over the arms of the chair," you instruct, already unzipping your fly as you sit again. I obey, but it feels so lewd: panty-less, utterly naked, with my heeled feet dangling out in thin air as my stockings slide on the chair.

"Now unbutton your top."

I'd deliberately worn the red, lacy singlet because it did have useable buttons down half the front, but I wasn't sure whether I regretted it or not now. My fingers shake as I pop them free, exposing more of my black lace bra with every inch of fabric that parts. The flush on my chest and neck is even more obvious once the cool air has free access to skin down to my navel. I look up at your face and strangle a whimper at the emotions warring across it.

"You.. unbutton your shirt," I manage to say, biting my lip as your hands move but your eyes don't. You watch my reactions to your slow undressing, make all the headier by the smell of sex in the air. I'd close my eyes against it, but under your gaze I can't.

"Touch yourself," you say softly, hand closing over your erection.

Swallowing hard I look down at my exposed lips, pouting out from arousal, and ease my right hand to cover myself. The palm of my hand is wet from that one touch, and I feel my own juices on my finger as I ease it inside my body.

"Are you tight?" you ask and I nod, shuddering as I watch your thumb rub over the head of your cock. "Then add another finger."

I let my head fall back and sigh, stroking up and down my slit with one fingertip.

"Patience is a virtue."

Ignoring your disbelieving snort I trace my clit with the index finger of my free hand, using the other fingers to spread my lips wide. Your gasp makes me smile, and I relish the thought that the power in the room has shifted: because your gaze is fixed on my moving hands and nowhere else. Relaxing back in the chair I play with myself, sliding two fingers in and out and teasingly moving moisture from my pussy to my asshole to see if you'll groan for me. When I fit three fingers inside myself you move your free hand to your balls, clenching your fist harder around your cock. You begin to stroke in time with my fingers as I set a pace towards my finish, sweating madly as my moans get louder.

My clit is burning as I rub it, my fingers curling up to hit my g-spot every time I thrust them inside my pussy. As my body starts to tighten unbearably I look up, catching your gaze, and bite my lip as my back arches and I gasp, feeling my fingers push me over the edge. I cum hard, my whole body shuddering as my pussy clenches on my hand and hot liquid gushes over them.

"Damn," you mutter, hands working feverishly to try and finish.

But, still orgasming, I slide my legs off the chair's arms, slipping off it and onto my knees.

"Wait..."

You freeze, watching as I shakily crawl the short distance to kneel in front of you and without preamble take your cock into my mouth. I have most of your length down my throat on the first go, my hands steadying my weight on your thighs. When you don't move I reach for your hands, sucking hard with my mouth, and place one on my head and the other around your balls. I pull off for a moment to say, "Help me," before continuing my assault. I can already feel your testicles tightening, and I can sense that it's going to be a big load. You hesitate for a moment longer and then clench your fingers in my short hair, pushing me further down on your cock to where you want me. Without a hand around you to control the depth I'm at your mercy, and as your breath begins to come in gasps your other hand slams onto the back of my neck so that you can fuck my mouth.

I don't fight it, letting you cock smack down my throat with each violent thrust, knowing that I won't be doing any loud talking for a couple of days after this.

I suck as hard as I can, gasping for breath in between strokes, and waiting for the warning signs. You don't seem to be one to get noisy, just rough, and I feel my lip split on my teeth as you grip my hair in both hands and draw me even closer, your cock swelling.

"Oh, fuck- swallow!"

Taking a deep breath I go down as far onto you as I can and open my throat, choking a little as you roughly fuck into my mouth one last time and then blow your load. Your grip on my hair is painfully tight but I dig my nails into your legs in return, holding on as spurt after spurt fills my mouth and throat. When at last you collapse into the couch I tip my head back a little so that the cum won't spill out of my mouth and carefully draw off you, sucking the head of your cock as it passes out of my lips. You groan again as I tilt my head back and swallow, licking my lips to remove the last few drops from them. And then smiling I lean against the couch, putting my head on your leg. I'm not even going to try and talk just yet, with the condition of my throat, so I settle for having your hand on the top of my head and a hell of a lot of satisfaction.