The events of this story are all true, as far as I can remember them. I condensed some of the information for the sake of story, but that is the only alteration I have made. Once again, I appreciate comments and feedback and thank you for the feedback I have received thus far.
Control
Packing, packing packing... college life definitely has its perks, but boxing up all your shit twice a year isn't one of them. You would think that with all this experience behind my belt, seeing that I've done it for 4 consecutive years, I'd be able to figure out a plan and get it done all lickety-split like. OR... the time, the last I checked, was nearly five in the morning and I was still going through my clothes.
I was also on the phone with my good friend, Rob, talking about, well, sex, of course. The story behind Rob and me is an interesting one. He is a dom from sunny California whom I've known through instant messaging and phone conversations for over three years now. Over three years of a very strong mutual attraction. He loves sending me pictures of his toys and his hot body. I also know in explicit detail several things he's itching to do to me and quite frankly, I get hot just thinking about them. But its not just that I know for a fact Rob is dominant enough to take me- which is a rare enough find in itself. He happens to be rather experienced, extremely intelligent and has consistently been a good friend to me. My master does not like the frequency of my communication with Rob, especially since he is very aware that I am attracted to him.
"See, the interesting thing is that although doms seem to have all the power during sex, it's not really true. The sub is really the one who is in control," I told him, very sure of myself, as I folded a sweater.
"I don't know about that, Dey. I think it's a little of both. The sub has certain powers and the dom has certain powers. At some point of pain and punishment, the dom will eventually relent to the sub on a short-term basis. Long-term, however, no good dom is going to let a sub get away with not following his instructions. "
"I don't know. I think the sub gets the better end of the deal. All she has to do is give the dom her body, and the dom takes care of her. The dom has more responsibilities to the sub than the sub has to the dom; it gives the sub more power."
Rob laughed at me; he did this often. "Having responsibilities towards something gives you control over that something."
I frowned. "I think it makes you submissive to that something."
He let out a non-committal sound. "Suit yourself."
"Well, I mean, come on, think about it. Its all just a game, right? Its play-sex. And the sub is the one who holds the uh, "safety word" or whatever you want to call it. She is the one who decides when it stops, because the dom is dependent on her; its give and take. The dom needs the sub because he needs someone to be submissive to him, and the sub wants to be dominated. They both fulfill the needs of the other."
"I agree with you on the last part, Deya, but the first part of what you said, well, I wish I could personally show you just how wrong you are."
I laughed, "Whatever, Rob. Well, I'm done packing for now. I guess I'll let you get some sleep now."
"Let me? I don't know how my crop feels about you "letting" me do something, " He laughed again, "All right, babe. Sweet/wicked dreams."
*****
During the next day, with the help of my roommate, I got everything packed up and moved all my shit to a temporary apartment.
That night, I was back in the city and in my master's arms. Damn glad to be there, too. It was late and I was exhausted. My Master, Dave, was peacefully nuzzling and holding my breasts while I played with his curly mop of hair. Inconsistent lamplight from the street outside his window cast his whole room in a glow, dancing shadows over our faces. I sighed, content, closing my eyes to drift off to sleep.
An electric shock jolted through my body. I didn't even open my eyes. "Dave... I'm half asleep... the only thing that sucking on the nipple will do is make me horny," I felt him bite down on my right nipple. I gasped, my eyes open and wide.
"Mmmmm...," he licked with his tongue. Once. Twice. "That's what I wanted... to hear that little cry escape these pretty lips of yours," He leaned up, eyes dark and smiling and brushed his lips against mine.
I put my arms around his neck to deepen the kiss. He obliged me, adjusting his position and kissing me with bruising force. He pressed his knee against my pelvis, moving it back and forth. I slid one hand down the center of his body. The head of his cock jumped as I stroked it with my fingertips. I broke the kiss.
"You are already hard,"
"Yes I am," he murmured His lips took mine again, more gently this time, his tongue searching for my own. I gave it up to him, tentatively.
He controlled me by touching the underside of my tongue. It worked like a switch- it made me ravenous and helpless. We both knew it. When he had my tongue securely locked in his mouth, he grazed it with his teeth. Slowly. Agonizingly. I uttered a sound deep in my throat. My body ached. My legs closed around his and I ground hard against his knee.
My hand trembled against his cock.
He began licking the underside of my tongue, over and over.
Lick.
I grabbed at him.
Lick.
