Ellen and I had been going out, hooking up, dating, whatever you want to call it for a few weeks. It wasn't just sex, but it was mainly sex. We kept indulging in public play, whether it was just my hand boldly on her ass while we strolled around Berkeley, or when I met her in the stacks of the university library and fucked her up against a shelf of books until a few volumes of "Pacific Naval Battles" fell on the floor. We hadn't used the words 'dominant' or 'submissive', but that was the energy of our relationship; she lit up happily whenever my hands were on her, directing her, she squirmed with pleasure when I gave her orders. She liked leaving it up to me when we'd cut our walk short and go back to her place for titanic fucking, or when I'd keep her on edge, slipping my hand up her skirt when we were unobserved, teasing her, making her ache with need. She was deeply satisfying to play with. The look of glee on her face during sex, this pure uninhibited joy that we were creating such gorgeous pleasure together, was sincerely beautiful.
We'd made plans to spend this whole day together, but I'd arranged to meet her at her house before we'd head into San Francisco. When I got to her house in the morning, she was still getting ready, and took me back to her bedroom. She had a variety of outfits laid out, and stripped down to her sheer, transparent bra and panty before grinning at me and asking, "Any opinions on what I should wear?"
I took the time to admire her body. She had an astonishingly attractive figure, petite, small, but rounded, her ass a perfect little bubble, her breasts were amazing globes, nipples perfectly in the center. Even her face was a little rounded, impish. Contrasting against that girlish femininity were the firm muscles that moved under her skin. She was a rock-climber; I'd watched her little body swarm up a cliff-face with ease. It was like she knew just how to work out to not lose an ounce from her breasts or ass, while sculpting her arms, legs, and abs into feminine but powerful lines. She was proud of that stomach; she liked to ride me, to put her little body on top of mine and sink herself down on my cock and lean back, so that the perkiness of her breasts over the flat landscape of her stomach was even more dramatic.
"A pair of shorts will make today more frustrating for both you and me, but I think that could be good," I said. She shot me a narrowed, quizzical look, but didn't press. I selected a pair of her shorts that I knew would grip her ass tightly, along with her slightly ripped Pixies t-shirt and a hoodie, because you can't ever not bring a hoodie in San Francisco.
She nestled her body up against mine, and I saw us in the mirror at that moment and liked it: her tiny body, her head coming up to mid-chest, almost entirely naked while I was still clothed, wrapping her leg around mine and looking up at me winsomely.
"Did you want to do anything before we got going?" she asked, her voice containing notes of need. I delayed answering, leaning down to brush my lips against her forehead in a way that I knew sent shivers for her, and traced my fingers against the nape of her neck. I nuzzled my lips against her ears as my other hand slipped to her panties and slowly drew them down. I felt her body reacting to me, her legs shifting, and the look of dismay on her face when I stepped back from her was almost comical--she lifted a hand, reaching for me.
I smiled, "Wait," I said. I opened the package I had brought with me, and took out a butterfly shape in purple silicone; a remote vibrator. This was long ago, and the remote was hand-carried and only had a range of twenty feet or so.
Her eyes widened instantly, and she said, "What is it... is it a vibrator?"
I nodded, and handed it to her, along with the harness straps for it. She played with them, her brow furrowing adorably in thought, and I said, "You strap it on, so that your hands are free."
She smiled, and quickly looped the harness around her, clipping it in, positioning the butterfly against her naked pussy. She awkwardly reached for the straps at her back, so I spun her around and drew them tight. They lay cutely across her taut little ass, and I gave it a satisfied smack before I turned her back around. She looked so sweet and sexual at the same time like this: Wearing only a transparent bra on her breasts, hard nipples jutting out, and only a sparkly purple butterfly on her pussy, black straps reaching around her thighs. Clearly a creature dressed for sexual play. With her close-cropped hair and elfin features, the addition of the butterfly made her look even more pixieish, a magical being of sex.
I smiled at her, and thumbed the remote control in my pocket, and the vibrator started up. I had only put it on the lowest setting and couldn't hear anything, but her eyes widened and her mouth opened, "What, you... oh!" she said, shifting on her toes, putting one hand down to the butterfly. I turned it off, and she said, "That was unexpected. But not unwelcome. That thing has... nice placement." I turned it on again, and saw her eyes fill with pleasure as I increased the intensity by a notch. She held one hand on her stomach, the other on the butterfly, changing its angle just slightly, riding her clit with it. When I turned it off this time, she glared at me.
This was one of the very fun aspects of her to explore, how much she liked denial, being teased, having her sexuality stoked and interacted with until she was a shaking and incandescent figure of need, her quick mind overcome by sheer need for sex and satiation. Denial didn't have to be about denying her orgasms, either; she was multiorgasmic as hell. Satiation came in different forms for her. But even as she liked the denial, in the moment she showed anger that was no less intense for being part of our play, as if I'd taken away something she deserved, and she was determined to get it back.
"Put your panties back on," I said, and saw her eyes flare more and added, softening it, showing her I had a plan, and was not just idly toying with her, "They'll help keep it in place. And your shorts."
She drew the transparent panties back on, and then her shorts. She took a look in the mirror; the butterfly sat so flat against her that there was nothing visible through the fabric of the shorts, nothing to show that she was dressed up like a slut for me, a toy on her pussy, the control in my hand. Her shorts looked amazing on her, but they weren't obscene, she was just hot as hell. People might look at her and lust, they'd have no idea what a truly wild little fucktoy she really was.
With that thought, now that she had her shorts back on, I activated the toy again and saw it hit her. "Socks and shoes, now," I said, levelly, and she bit her lip but complied, moving in bursts of motion as I played with the control, sending the toy veering back and forth between the lowest and second-lowest levels. She struggled her socks on, one-by-one, then the shoes, and with trembling fingers defiantly did up the laces of her red Converse. I turned the toy off, and gave her a kiss, lingering on her full lips, my hands on her arms, her back, bending her back a bit as I passionately kissed her, showing her my excitement and lust for our day together. The strength of her body, the delicacy, and the control she was giving me gave me an unequaled feeling of pride and vigor.
We got into her car, and I left the toy off until the first time that we pulled to a halt at a stop sign, no other cars in the intersection, and then I flicked it on, higher than I had set it before. She gave the cutest little grunt of surprise, no other word for it, a quick expulsion of air as her fingers tightened around the steering wheel. She didn't turn to face me, but took a deep breath as I turned it off again, and we went on our way.
When we got to a red light, I saw her fingers tighten first, and then I turned it on. Her head dropped, nodding, as if to say yes, and she knew when the light changed because I turned off the toy; it took her half a breath before she recovered and drove through. The next light, she tensed, but I didn't trigger it, and she took a huge breath and let it out. At the last stop before the freeway to the bridge, I turned it back on and played it up and down the scale of intensity we'd achieved so far, and her face danced with pleasure until I noticed the cars starting to move ahead of us and turned it back off. She breathed again, shook her head a fraction, and started forward again.
We passed along the Bay Bridge high over the water, and the traffic flowed smoothly. I told her about the commute I used to have over that bridge, where I watched the sunrise every morning, timing my commute with it so that I could see the Golden Gate truly live up to its name. I gave her directions along 280, and it wasn't until we got off on John Daly that there was a pause in traffic again. I didn't use the toy, though, but leaned across and kissed her, tangling my hand in her hair--she had such great hair, always a bit wild but so soft--pushing my tongue into her mouth, my hand capturing one breast and squeezing hard. I bit her lip as I pulled away. She made a little mewling noise, low in her throat.
I directed her to the final leg of our journey, and we arrived at the zoo. She smiled happily as she got out of the car; the zoo was always one of her favorite places to go. Only specific parts of it; she liked the places where the animals had sufficient habitat, where they seemed happy and social. As we started to walk to the entrance, I put the toy on at the lowest setting, and she barely missed a step. I took her hand in mine and held it as we walked in, and started our circuit of the park.
