Slut Fantasy

His little slut ached for his touch. Life had just gotten in the way, and they'd only been able to steal a few chaste moments together. On the most part, they were limited to online communication. Through the e-mails, the instant messages, he kept her arousal simmering. A week had passed, and still he'd not given her permission to cum. Her phone rang with that song she reserved for him. Despite the late hour of evening, she answered the call with her standard professionalism. Just the sound of his voice in her ear increased the dampness between her thighs. They chatted for a few minutes, talking about work and politics and so on. He turned the conversation by asking her what she was wearing. "Shirt, underwear, and socks, Sir."

She'd been begging all week for permission to do something, anything, to address her desire. Even if he still denied her release. Even if he denied any sort of penetration. But even those compromises were denied. Despite her need, her discomfort, she obeyed his command. Now, his command was to touch his pussy without removing her panties. He could hear the change in her breathing, the change in her voice when he made her answer his questions. He finally instructed her to pull her panties aside, and slip a finger inside, then amended his instruction. "You know my dick's bigger than a finger. Put two in there."

She whimpered, feeling very much the slut she was for him. She complied with his command, his pussy gripping her fingers painfully. He coaxed her so deliciously to climax. "Thank you, Sir," she said breathlessly. He chuckled; before bidding her good night, he gave her more to envision as she drifted off to slumber. She licked her fingers clean before falling asleep.

*******

Her fingers had never satisfied her, and though she'd been able to cum that time, they both knew that only he could give her that earth-shattering release she craved. By the time they were able to get together again, that familiar need was dripping down her thighs. When he picked her up, she wore a dress, heels, and her coat. She got into the car, spreading her legs according to the instructions he'd already given her. He teased her skin, running his hands up her muscular legs, and she quivered with his touch. He stopped just above the hem of her dress, chuckling at her desperation. He took her to their usual haunts, continuing to tease her and prolong her wait.

After what seemed to be an eternity, he took her back to his place. He told her to get comfortable before excusing himself. She knew she ought to be on her knees by the time he returned, but her body had turned to jelly. She lay prostrate on the bed, her legs parted and hanging off the edge. She tried to will her thundering pulse calm, but to no avail. Every second she waited, she only wanted him more.

She felt his hands on her calves, her hamstrings, her glutes. She moaned, wishing the teasing would cease. But his control far exceeded hers. And, for all she knew, she may still be denied the release she craved. "That's a good position for you, slut," he said softly as he continued to knead her ass cheeks.

She raised her hips, wishing he would just take her. He laughed quietly. Knowing her discomfort with her own nakedness, he instructed her to pull her dress up to her waist. She whimpered softly as she complied. He continued to caress her hyper-sensitive skin, causing her to writhe beneath his touch. He smacked her ass hard then, eliciting a yelp from her. He'd never hit her that hard before. "How many infractions have you had, slut?"

She thought before responding, knowing her punishment would be worse if she answered incorrectly. "Four, Sir."

"Good girl," he said. Each cheek took four hard blows before he caressed her ass again. Her ass stung like nothing she'd ever felt, but she choked out anyway, "Thank you, Sir."

He rewarded her complacency by slipping a finger into his dripping pussy. "Whose are you?"

"Yours, Sir," she replied meekly.

"Say it again."

"I'm your slut, Sir, to be used however you see fit," she replied, a blush creeping into her cheeks as he continued to stroke his pussy with his finger.

"And what's my pussy for, slut?"

"Your pussy is for your pleasure, Sir, and yours alone."

"That's right. You're mine, and this pussy's mine," his finger pushed harder, deeper into her, punctuating his statement each time he said "Mine."

She blushed with shy pride. He owned her; her body was no longer hers. Even her pleasure belonged to him; no longer could she play with her toys without his permission. Other than bathing, she couldn't even touch his pussy without his consent. Not only was it an exercise in futility, as all she wanted was him, but she wasn't ready to test his limits. After all, there was something about a man who could tease her just so. A man who could take control as he did. He was the best she'd ever had, and they both knew he'd ruined her for anyone else.

His voice quietly pierced her thoughts. She had somehow failed to take notice that he had withdrawn his finger, and had lain down beside her on the bed. "And what gives my slut pleasure?"

"Your slut takes pleasure in being able to give you pleasure, Sir."

"Good answer, slut. But surely there are certain things that you enjoy."

"Please, Sir, all that matters to your slut is that you take pleasure in her."

"Don't lie to me slut. Your subservience is commendable, but you've said it yourself that I read you well. Tell me where and how you like to be touched. Tell me those fantasies that are yet unfulfilled. Tell me, or incur the consequences of keeping your secrets from me. Now, slut."

Her voice dropped to a whisper. "Your slut likes it when you tell her what it is you like about the body you possess. I may never see it as you say you do, so I doubt I'll ever get a swelled head over it. I don't know what it is about you, or how you say it, but your compliments don't make me want to hide under a blanket. Somehow, you actually make me feel more comfortable ... you give me more confidence in my ability to please you. I like the feel of your hands on my skin, and I sometimes wish you would touch more of me."

She paused, unsure of the right wording, fearful about offending him. "Where does my slut like to be touched?"

"Everywhere, Sir," she blushed even deeper for having to admit these things. "Your slut loves the feel of your feather-light, teasing, touch on my hyper-sensitive skin. I love the feel of being touched in those places that aren't necessarily 'sexual' ... Like my feet, or my spine, or my nipples ... I love the feel of your tongue on those types of spots, too. Like when you nuzzle behind my ears, or lick my collarbone ..."

He draped an arm across the small of her back, leaning forward to nuzzle the nape of her neck. She shivered with pleasure, relishing the feel of his breath, his skin, against hers. She tried to press her body closer to his, but he stopped abruptly when she did that. She could feel her unfulfilled desire dripping down toward the mattress, and she cried out wordlessly at being kept waiting and wanting. She could feel his breath, hot on her ear, when he spoke again. "What else? I want to get in that pretty little head of yours."

Her voice was barely audible as she tried to finish her answer to his inquiry, and he had to compel her to speak up, gripping the nape of her neck firmly. She felt like could've practically cum right then. "Mmm. I love it when you take control like that. Sometimes I fantasize about you tying me up ... the fantasy doesn't usually have any specific components to it. I guess it's the thought of being so completely at your disposal. Sometimes, I fantasize about you being tied up, or at least not being able to use your hands to guide me. I guess with that fantasy, it's wanting verbal direction when it's needed. To an extent, it may even be the desire for some validation that my instincts are good enough to please you. I don't know ... I'm pretty boring, I guess. It's really enough for me to give you pleasure."

He rose from her side abruptly, and she wondered if she had said or done something to displease him. He found the restraints she had brought with her, and sat down in a chair facing the bed. "Strip," he commanded.

She turned, stood on shaky legs, and tugged her dress over her head, her gaze turned to the floor. Her chest heaved, never having been so naked before him. "Climb up onto the bed, slowly, so I can see that sexy ass of yours."

Her body quivered with nervousness, fear, and not a little excitement. She turned her back to him, climbing up onto the bed as she'd been bid. She was sure her arousal was more than evident to him, especially displaying herself as she was. "Good girl," he said, then instructed her to lie on her back.

She remembered she was to keep her legs apart, facilitating his access. He tied her each ankle to a corner of the bed, leaving her wrists free for the moment, then resumed his seat in the chair. "My pussy is so wet, slut. Show me how much my slut wants my dick inside her. You know what I want you to do."

"Please, Sir ... May I please just suck your dick?"

He was more than ready to just bury himself in that tight, wet, pussy in front of him, but she needed to be reminded that he was in control. He owned her. That body was his, to be used for his pleasure, at any given moment. This wasn't about her comfort, or even her pleasure. He owned that, too. "Not yet, slut. Now, don't make me tell you again."

She was glad that their positioning meant that she didn't have to make eye contact with him as she shyly obeyed. She tried to tell herself that the image she provided him was one of beautiful eroticism. Her legs spread wide, hiding nothing from his view. Her hand dipped between her thighs, her middle and ring fingers slipping into the dampness there. She heard him voice his approval, and she tried to tell herself he was stroking himself. "Cease," he ordered abruptly, just before she could find her rhythm. Her compliance was immediate.

She felt so empty, and she hoped he would fuck her now. She opened her eyes, to find that he was standing next to her. Their eyes met, and she timidly asked, "Please, Sir. May I divest you of your clothing, and suck your dick?"

He didn't answer her, but secured each of her wrists to a corner of the bed, so that she lay like an "x" across his bed. He slowly undressed himself, knowing the anticipation was killing her. Finally, he straddled her chest. She was salivating as she eyed the cock before her face. Her eyes sought out his as she licked her lips, then opened her mouth to receive him. But he wasn't done teasing her. He'd rub his cock head over her lips, and as she darted her tongue out to taste him, he'd scoot back, out of her reach. Each time he did this, his leg hairs brushed against her extremely sensitive nipples, intensifying her arousal.

It was a relief to them both when he actually let her take him in her mouth. His size had always presented a challenge for her, and having to endure this dry spell of a few weeks, he felt bigger to her than she remembered him being. He let her take her time, adjusting to his size all over again. He could afford to be patient with her on this; one doesn't really turn down a slut who's hell-bent on making sweet mouth-love to one's cock. There was something in the way her tongue sought the acquaintance of his dick's surface area. There was something to that little moan that vibrated through her mouth, through his dick, that signaled that orgasm she'd achieved just trying to bring about his pleasure this way. There was even something about her gagging as she strained to take him all the way into her mouth, down her throat, all because it was what pleased him.

The fact that she still had her gag reflex reminded him of her tiny stature, reminded him that he was bigger than she was accustomed to taking. The fact that she kept trying to deep-throat him despite her discomfort told him beyond the shadow of a doubt that she was truly his. The slut she couldn't be with anyone else, he'd brought her to be for him. It made her so refreshingly virginal in that regard. And this cock-sucking slut's singular goal was his pleasure. And his pleasure was now to fuck her face. He felt her lips tighten around him, trying to create a more gratifying seal for him. He felt her breathing quicken, her exhalations into his pubic hair, and her chest heaving below him. He watched as her eyes fly open when his glans first hit the back of her throat, met her gaze as her pupils dilated. He watched the tears run down toward her ears as his speed and force increased, fucking her throat raw.

He reached behind him, his fingertips grazing his neglected possession. Nectar flowed copiously from his pussy, and the knowledge sent him over the edge. He came hard, and his pretty little slut gamely swallowed every drop of the cum he shot down her throat. As he softened in her mouth, she couldn't resist the urge to lick and suckle him until he pulled out of her mouth. "Thank you, Sir," she said hoarsely as soon as she was capable of speaking.

He chuckled softly as he moved off her chest. "Damn, slut. You really wanted my cum, didn't you? You did very well tonight."

She blushed at, and thanked him for, his praise, glad she was finally able to bring him to climax with her mouth. As she regained the ability to breathe normally, and she recovered from the series of small orgasms she'd had, he released her from her bondage to his bed. He watched her rotate her slender wrists and ankles, wriggle her fingers and toes. He noted that, as she massaged the blood flow back through her wrists, she was mindful of keeping her legs apart. She never denied him access to his pussy. The realization was a head rush ... the blood flow stirring him to erect, of course. But also the knowledge of how completely she had surrendered to him made him feel something like Siegfried and Roy taming a tiger.

Her eyes were closed, a smile perfecting the features of her face, and he had no doubt she was replaying the recent events. She hadn't even reached for him, or begged him to fuck her. She hadn't been exaggerating, after all ... His orgasm was enough for her. But it had been two weeks, and he wanted to reclaim that tight, wet, pussy. His thick cock was at full-length, and ready to bury itself in those warm, dripping, folds. He lay supine on the bed, and the sound of his barely-audible voice was compelling. "Ride me, baby."

Her compliance was immediate. She rose quickly, facing him as she straddled him. Her whole body was flushed as her eyes met his. Her tiny hand reached behind her to guide him into the pussy he owned. The tight sheath shuddered as it slowly stretched to accommodate him as she lowered herself until their pelvic bones met. His pussy gripped him like a vice as she eked out yet another small orgasm. Her hips undulated slowly as her body worked toward composure. The slut in her couldn't be satiated, and increased her pace. She placed her hands on her thighs for support, raising herself, and he lifted his hips to meet hers. She arched her back, delighting in that fullness of having him completely ensconced in his pussy.

The two of them found a fierce, animalistic, rhythm. They fucked with passionate, reckless, abandon. As she got closer, she placed her hands behind her, and on his thighs. Her eyes met, and held, his. "Please, Sir," she whispered.

"Yes," was all he said. But it was enough.

He watched her eyes go back into her skull as she shut her eyes, her back arcing gracefully backward. Their pace didn't abate until he felt his pussy spasm around his long, thick, cock. "Oh ... gawd ..." her voice hoarse and breathless as she cried out his name, and came with a slick rush that drenched his dick.

He continued to pound his dick into her cervix as she collapsed, quaking, atop his chest. Finally, he guided her to all fours and repositioned himself behind her. His hands grasped the round, soft, ass before him, and his dick slammed back into the pussy that welcomed him home. She deepened the arch of her back, letting him take control. His strokes stoked the cinders to fully enflame her arousal, and she pushed her hips back to meet his thrusts. She felt his pussy clench around the dick she couldn't get enough of, her hands grasping at the sheets, and she didn't ask permission then. She only cried out his name ... "Say it."

"Please, Sir ... your slut wants you to fill your pussy with your cum ... your slut wants every drop ..." She felt his body slam violently against hers, and his cum splash against her cervix as his pussy continued to convulse with the climax he'd given her. He collapsed atop her, both their energy completely expended. The aftershocks of her orgasm finally squeezed his softening dick out of his pussy. "Thank you, Sir," she whispered.

"My pleasure."