"Kneel ... no, don't look away. Your face is too pretty to hide." He tugged the front of his pajamas down exposing his engorged shaft, a drop of pre-cum sparkling at its tip. I leaned forward just a little. "Not until I tell you, my dear. Not until I tell you."
Eric began his lecture.
"I won't be taking you as far as you'd probably like to go today. I'm being selfish to some extent. I can't leave without an excuse to come back, now can I? There are a couple of other things, though. Self-control, Maggie. Really good soup needs to simmer for a long time. Now, I have been accused of being too distant, too quiet in the sack. At least that's what my brother seems to think. He doesn't get the beauty of self-control. I prefer to take my time, to keep my focus. We'll get there. Eventually. Truth to tell, I'm working with something of a handicap on this one. You'll have to tolerate my learning curve. As I said, all of my clients are men. When it comes to women, I'm more a wine-and-roses kind of guy. I've dabbled here and there, but nothing of this ... magnitude." He looked around at the room as he searched for his word, then focused again on my face. "So far, so good?"
"Yes, Sir."
He groaned. "Ah, how did I know you were going to call me that? The only place I ever want to hear that word is here, in this room. No place else. My name is Eric. Got it?"
"Yes, Sir."
"Wonderful." His cock bobbed in front of my face. "You can have that one drop you've been wanting, but that's all."
Eric grasped his cock at its base and stroked it firmly, increasing that one precious drop to at least three. It spilled past the cleft of his glans, running down the underside of his shaft. I wasn't sure what to do. He'd said 'one drop' but offered much more. Could he be testing me? Or was this just one very large drop? His face gave nothing away. There was only one way to find out. Boldly, I licked along the underside of his prick from about the middle and up over the top. I wanted so badly to take the head of it in my mouth, but left it at wanting. His fluid was warm and slick and tasted like more. I swirled my tongue around the roof of my mouth, distributing the flavor of him throughout my mouth. He pulled his pajamas back over his hips.
"We'll get back to that later. Next issue: these photos. Most of them are fine. Some of them are going to have to go. Do you have a paper shredder?"
"Yes, Sir."
"Good." Eric picked a few of the photographs off the wall and fanned them out in his hand as if they were playing cards. "Take a look at these and tell me what they have in common."
Scaning over the photos, I remembered each session vividly. Every one of them had been taken at the end of punishments to help me learn from my mistakes. Learn I did, for there was nothing I dreaded more than a caning. Angry red welts criss-crossed my bottom. Still, there were plenty of other pictures that were essentially the same. Some of them had even been taken during the same sessions. I puzzled back and forth, looking for the answer. When I figured it out, I gasped, realizing for the first time just how far away my submission could carry me. It had never felt the way it suddenly looked from this perspective.
"Blood." Indeed, my skin was broken in each of the pictures Eric held in his hand. It wasn't a gore-fest by any means, but it was inarguable. Even if by only the littlest bit, Gerald had opened my skin in each example.
"Blood. Yes. And, more importantly, a terrible lapse in self-control on several occasions. That won't be happening anymore. While I would never presume to speak ill of the dead, he wasn't paying attention like he should have been. Besides, there are much more devious ways of making an impression on someone without resorting to a beating."
He grinned down at me like the Cheshire cat yet gave away no secrets. My cunt, perhaps for the first time ever in my life, was literally dripping wet. He knew it, too. Exactly how he knew was a deep mystery, but there would never be any way of keeping secrets from this man. I recalled his words from the night before: 'I knew the moment I saw you.' I felt a helplessness that I had never known before, not even during my most intense moments of submission. Shark-like, he circled around me, observing, evaluating, judging. I clasped my hands together in a feeble attempt to hide how they trembled. Eric crossed behind me, closing and locking the door. Everything was moving in slow-motion. The noise of the tumblers was jack-hammer loud and my pulse swooshed in my head. From far away I heard him speak.
"Get up."
I was on my feet. The wetness between my legs was rivaled only by the wetness under my arms. He had yet to lay one finger on me and still I was sweaty hot. Something was running down my leg. Perhaps it was leaking from my cunt. Perhaps it was sweat. Perhaps, even, it was a little dribble of urine. I couldn't have said. Silently I chanted to myself, 'just breathe, just breathe.' He was standing directly behind me. His patience was my agony.
Without warning, my right hand was pinned behind my shoulder blades and we were rushing toward the wall. Fast. Before I could so much as blink, my left cheek was resting on the cold tile. Eric had my left hand over my head, palm to the wall and trapped. My right hand was still pinned to my shoulder blade. He could have hurt me, badly, if he had so wanted. My God he was strong! Ever so slightly he pressed upward on my right arm until, panting, I cried out softly. His bare chest blanketed my back. He let his rigid cock rest against the fullest part of my ass as he bit at my neck. His teeth raked across my skin gently at first, then insistently, then demandingly. He slid his jaw back and forth a few times before releasing the skin he'd clamped between his teeth. He blew on the spot he'd just bitten.
"Do let me know what your friend at work has to say about the mark on your neck, dear one, " he murmured. My throat too thick to speak, I nodded as best I could given my position.
"And make sure you go through all of those photos very carefully. You know which ones offend me. The next time I am in this room, I expect to be satisfied with your attention to detail."
I was all but blind with arousal. Something like my voice made a crackly, breathy noise. Asking for permission was out of the question. It was way too late to stop the orgasm that was about to rip through me. Eric brought a knee up between my legs and planted it firmly against the wall, my seething cunt resting on top of his muscular thigh. Pressing into him, my hips wanted to move. His breath tickled my ear when he spoke.
"No grinding. No moving. Just let it out."
I slid down the wall a little as my legs gave way. Had it not been for straddling Eric's knee I'd have broken my arm, for he still had me pinned. To be sure, his sturdy support was no accident. He was as solid as a mountain beneath me and his cock felt at least as large. 'No moving' and 'just let it out' proved at once to be an impossible contradiction. My orgasm bucked like a wild mare, uncontrollable and defiant. It mocked my obedient intentions and animated my body against my will. I hated it. I never wanted it to stop.
My head was spinning as I lost touch with my surroundings. I was vaguely aware that my robe had been removed and I'd been carried across the room. Eric laid me on my back on what used to be called "the workbench" -- a heavy table that Gerald had constructed to accommodate various restrictions to my movement. It was about the size of a doctor's exam table, but much heavier and bolted to the floor. His strong hands tugged on my hips, urging me downward.
"Scoot down."
I wiggled toward him until I was in the position all women know: knees to my chest, my bottom hung off the end of the table, fully exposing my slick, engorged flesh. Cool air tickled my clit and threatened to trigger another orgasm.
"Knees stay where they are," he said, moving to the head of the table. "Give me your hands." Eric brought my hands over my head, binding my wrists with my bathrobe tie. He secured the other end to the table and briefly tested my mooring. Finding it sufficient, he stood beside me and smoothly pulled off his pajamas. His cock was standing straight up and had flushed a deep shade of red-purple. I was mesmerized by the sight of it, wondering how it must feel for him to be so hard and if it would be like having a thick, long, heavy clit.
"Do you have any idea how much you wet all over my leg, Maggie? Hmm?"
"No. Well, not exactly. Probably a lot?" It was more a question than an answer.
"Oh, yes. It was a lot. Here -- you look a little overheated." Eric mopped my face with the cum-soaked flannel, paying particular attention to my mouth. I licked my lips reflexively. That I relished the taste of my own pussy did not escape Eric's watchfulness.
