Queen Of The Bed

[Ed Note: If you enjoy this story, please consider following the account]

I'm sprawled out on our bed, sheets cool against my back, as I lie there luxuriously staring at the ceiling.

I'm semi naked, topless, my tits out, nipples perking up in the air just wearing these black stockings on with a suspender belt, the kind that make my legs look killer, and it feels soooo good, you know?

How did I get here?

Eighteen months back, Peter, my husband, came to me, all nervous and fidgety, asking for this female empowered relationship thing he'd dug up online. That's how he put it but I suspect it was something he was thinking about for quite some time.

I wasn't sold at first, thought it sounded like some kinky bullshit, but I said okay, I'd look into it.

And look into it I did. Took me a while to read up on it, understand what it was, and what it might benefit to both of us. So I tried it.

Now? Holy hell, I'm hooked. He gave me the wheel, and I've turned our life into something I fucking love, every day a little more mine, like I'm the queen of this castle.

Right now, Peter's between my legs, kneeling there like a good boy, his face hovering over my pussy.

Waiting.

We've been at this FLR gig for a while now, and the house now just hums to my tune. I've removed a few of his less than attractive habits,... he has settled well into my command.

Recently, I've been training him, molding him into my perfect little oral slave. This is, what, lesson six or seven? I've lost count. Point is, he's getting there, learning how to lick me just right, and tonight's all about building me up slow, turning me on until I lose it.

He's done well so far, but I want the ultimate cunnilingus expert at my beck and call.

I relax, have a few deep and slow breaths, and then slowly spread my legs wider, already wet just thinking about what will come, and give him the go-ahead.

"Start slow," I tell him, my voice low, a little husky because I'm already anticipating.

He leans in, breath hot on me, and his tongue hits my folds, softly, carefully, like I taught him.

I let out a sigh, head sinking into the pillow, and it's good, real good. "Yeah, like that," I mutter, my hands wandering up to my tits, fingers brushing my nipples.

They're hard already, and I tease them while he works, the wet sounds of his licking filling up the room. It's dirty, sexy, and I'm melting into it, my stockings catching the light as I wiggle my legs a bit.

"Good boy" I murmur to encourage him, let him know he's following my teachings.

He's solid gold for maybe ten minutes, tongue gliding over me, slow and steady like I've taught him. keeping that rhythm I love. I'm moaning soft, hips rocking just enough to feel the pleasure build

......and then he screws up.

Goes too hard on my clit, pressing like he's trying to mash it flat, way too soon. He'd tried to make himself more comfortable, and misjudged it, jolting me right out of the groove I was settling into and expecting.

I growl, pissed, and grab a handful of his hair, pulling his head up sharp, surprising him somewhat. "What the fuck, Peter? Never do that again," I snap, staring him down.

"I've told you before, when you're down on my pussy, it's your sole focus, that was way too much pressure, too soon, now get your act together"

He's got these wide eyes, like a kid caught sneaking candy, and I hold him there a sec before shoving his face back down. "Now, keep going, and don't kill the vibe you're building"

He dives back in, almost immediately, softer now, tongue circling my clit like he's sorry. I settle back, letting the pleasure creep up again, moans slipping out louder. "That's it," I gasp, pinching my nipples harder as he licks.

I relax into the oral pleasure again, starting to once again get lost in my own world. My breathing is starting to get more pronounced, more in tune with the moment. I writhe lightly on the bed, slowly getting more lost in the bliss as my husband's tongue lightly circles my clit, occasionally brushing it, so gently teasing me.

I decide some words of encouragement are in order. I part my legs a little further, and push his head into my pussy a little harder so he knows a little firmer is OK. "That's good baby, you're doing so well, keep going like that" I murmur. This turned out to be a small mistake.

The words were barely out of my mouth when he lifted his head off my pussy, just momentarily to say "Yes ma'am, I will" before re-engaging his tongue.

I don't want to break the moment, that seems even worse but he needs to know his mistake here. I push his head firmly into pussy and unleash the news " NEVER, EVER take your tongue away from my clit when you're pleasuring me, UNLESS I ask you to, you're to OBEY only. We will talk later, but don't EVER stop".

Message received I think.

The inside of his head is probably a mess right now but his tongue was still working its magic.

He settles back into that perfect rhythm again, soft and teasing, swirling around my clit with just the right pressure. My hips buck slightly, chasing the heat building deep in my core.

The wet, sloppy sounds of his licking mix with my moans, louder now, raw and unrestrained. My fingers dig into my tits, twisting my nipples hard, sending jolts of pleasure straight to my pussy.

I'm soaking down there, dripping onto the sheets, and he's lapping it up like it's his fucking job. Which it is. My legs tremble in their stockings, thighs clamping around his head as I grind against his face.

"Fuck, yes, like that," I gasp, voice breaking. The orgasm's coiling tight, a hot, pulsing knot ready to explode. I'm losing it, control slipping, my body shaking as I chant, "Yes, yes, YES!"

My breath hitches, every muscle tensing, right on the edge of shattering--then he fucking ruins it.

AGAIN,,,,,, FUCKING AGAIN.

I was teetering on the edge, so close to that mind-blowing release, when Peter shifted his position again. He's trying to keep me happy, I get it, but in his clumsy attempt to settle more comfortably, his teeth graze my clit--hard. It's not a bite, not exactly, but it feels sharp, like a jolt of lightning that's all wrong.

Pain slices through the pleasure, yanking me out of my orgasm's grip like a record scratch.

I react without thinking. My legs fly open wider, thighs trembling, as I snatch a fistful of his hair and yank his head up hard.

Before he can even blink, my hand cracks across his face, a sharp, stinging slap that echoes in the room. His eyes go wide, stunned, and I glare at him, my chest heaving, the sting of betrayal burning hotter than the pain.

My eyes blaze.

"You listen to me, and you listen good," I hiss, my voice sharp enough to cut glass. "I don't give a damn if your knees ache or your neck's stiff. I don't care if you're uncomfortable, Peter. Your job--your only job--is to lick my pussy exactly how I want it, to make me cum until I'm shaking and screaming. Nothing else matters. Not your excuses, not your mistakes, nothing. This is about me. You exist to serve me, to worship every inch of me with that tongue until I'm drowning in bliss. You don't get to fumble, you don't get to fail, and you sure as hell don't get to ruin my orgasm with your clumsy bullshit. So you better get it together, right now, and give me what I deserve, or I'll make damn sure you regret it."

I shove Peter's head down hard, forcing his face back into my pussy, my grip unrelenting. "Get on with it," I snap, voice cold and commanding. "No more fuck-ups, or you'll be sorry."

Peter hesitates for a split second, his breath shaky against my skin, and I can feel the weight of his embarrassment, the sting of my words and that slap still burning across his cheek.

He's sheepish, although I know he derives great satisfaction from this type of treatment. He trembles slightly as he lowers his mouth back to my pussy, his tongue darting out tentatively, like he's afraid of screwing up again.

It's soft, too soft at first, but I don't snap this time--I let him find his rhythm, my thighs still quivering from the interrupted high.

His licks are careful, deliberate, tracing my folds with a kind of desperate focus, like he's trying to prove he's learned his lesson.

My hands stay in his hair, less force but guiding him, keeping him exactly where I need him, and slowly, the orgasm starts to build again, my body forgiving him as his tongue swirls just right, teasing my clit with the lightest, most delicious pressure.

"Yes, fuck, like that," I moan, breathing fast, hips bucking harder. He flicks his tongue quickly, then sucks just right, and it's building, this hot, tight knot in my belly. I grab the sheets, then his head again, holding him steady as I grind into his face.

For god knows how long, I'm lost in a haze of ecstasy, my body coming alive as the pleasure builds again with every flick of his tongue. Each passing minute sends me spiraling deeper, my hips grinding harder against his face, thighs trembling as I writhe under the relentless, delicious torment.

My moans grow louder, raw and desperate, my fingers clawing at the sheets, then my breasts, pinching my nipples to amplify the fire coursing through me.

The wet, rhythmic sounds of his licking drive me wild, my entire being pulsing with a hot, tightening need, every second pushing me closer to an explosive edge I can barely contain.

My moans turn into gasps, then loud cries that bounce off the walls. My back's arching, tits shoving up, nipples like little rocks as I tweak them.

"Don't you dare stop," I hiss, voice all ragged, my thighs shaking around him. He keeps going, tongue swirling, licking, sucking, pushing me higher.

My stockings scrape the sheets, my whole body's wound up tight, ready to snap. I can feel it, huge and close, and I just let go.

"Oh fuuuuuuuck, yes!" I scream, and it hits me, a goddamn explosion.

My back bows right off the bed, thighs squeezing his head, shaking like crazy as this insane pleasure rips through me.

"Peter, fuck!" I yell, raw and loud, my whole body jerking, shuddering with every wave.

Sweat's dripping down my chest, tits heaving as I gasp, my pussy soaking his face while I ride it out. It's messy, out of control, and I'm screaming, a total mess of ecstasy, every bit of me on fire until it finally starts to fade.

I flop back, panting, legs falling open, a smug little grin creeping onto my face.

My pussy's still twitching, all sensitive and happy, and I glance down at Peter.

His face is a mess, eyes big like he's seen God. I nudge his head away with my foot, the stocking brushing his cheek, and wave him off.

"Not bad," I say, lazy, cocky. "Tomorrow's lesson's waiting. Go clean up."

He scrambles off the bed, probably hard as hell in his pants, but that's his deal, not mine.

I lie there, soaking in the buzz, my body still humming from how good that was. I glimpse his movement in the bathroom and my mind flicks to his punishment.

He's improving, but screwing up my orgasm twice? I'm thinking he needs some focus, something to make sure it doesn't happen again, as I won't let sloppy work slide.

Later, maybe after dinner, I'll bend him over, give him a few sharp cane strokes, probably making him utter that he must never screw up my orgasm. Hopefully it'll be just enough to sting, to keep his focus razor-sharp.

Whatever,.... a little pain will remind him: my pleasure is everything, and he'll learn to be the perfect oral slave I demand.

Eighteen months of this FLR thing, and I've got him turning into something useful, a guy who lives to make me come.

Tomorrow, I'll push him more, sharpen him up, because he's mine to train. I close my eyes, already thinking about the next time, knowing he's too hooked to fuck up again.