Lilac Vengance

It was a punishment of spectacular design if I do say so myself. I can't say that I've ever thought of vengeance and sex at the same time and gotten a hard on. Honestly, it usually isn't my kind of kink. My box of porno holds the erotic viewing pleasure of sexy MILF's, innocently curious co-eds, blond nurses, and redheaded teachers looking for a dad to bend her over the desk. No S&M, no leather or bondage, golden showers, gangbangs, or feet fetishes. I'm vanilla with a twist of lemon (for the zing) kind of guy.

But hey, even nice guys like me get a little fed up. We lash out, fight back and/or verbally insult with an impulsive idiocy that will usually get us into really big trouble. Though we'll really, really feel bad about it later, at the time, vengeance is the end all be all of our existence.

Strangely enough, this time I don't feel bad. In fact, I'm pretty sure I'll be fantasizing about today for the rest of my life. It could have something to do with the fact that I'll never have the cojones to ever do it again. Or, perhaps it's because I wreaked havoc tonight with the leather and bondage I'm not usually brave enough to watch someone else do, let alone try it myself. That, and the way she orgasmed. Again and again and again.

What, might you ask, was so horrible that shattered my good guy control? Purple-colored nail polish. Actually, it's not just purple, but a lovely pale lilac that shimmered under the harsh glare of florescent lighting.

Yeah, yeah, I know, you think I'm a freak. I probably am, actually, but I couldn't help it. There she was, looking hot in her slinky little dress, pointing her perfectly manicured, lilac tipped finger at me, while she ranted on and on about some pointless nonsense. To her, my face was a patient mask of indifference, while inside the rage was steadily building. At first, all I could think was: stupid woman doesn't even know what the hell she's talking about. Then it was: "goddamn fucking rich bitch just can't get through her fucking day without yelling at some poor schmuck for something they didn't even fucking do." Finally, I thought, "if she points that perfect little finger at me one more time..." and then I saw red. Or actually lilac, since she jabbed her finger an inch from my eye, when I suddenly lost it.

I grabbed her by the shoulders and slammed her up against the wall hard enough to knock the breath from her lungs in a puff of wintergreen scented air. Shock and pain widened her eyes to large, chocolate brown saucers, and finally (finally!) shut her mouth with a sharp clacking of teeth. Then it filled me, that perverse satisfaction that came with her obvious fear. I was instantly as hard as re-bar, ready and rearing to prove to her that no fancy-smancy rich chick could order me around like some mindless sheep.

When the initial shock wore off, she struggled like a wild thing. I trapped her body with mine and anchored her wrists to the wall with my hands. Pressed close to her as I was, I took the opportunity to grind my re-bar against her and growled all the debauched and perfectly orgyrific things I wanted to do in her diamond studded ear.

Her struggles weakened, but her knees opened without a fight when I pushed my way between them. A flawlessly shaped leg rode up my thigh while I worked her barely-there dress up. Then I was there, cupping her perfectly waxed pussy and worrying a few fingers into her. She was a contradiction of fire and rain; hot as a wildfire, and as wet as a soaked sponge.

Halleluiah.

I released her hands to better do my magic, and she attacked me with her lilac warriors. She clawed my shoulders, digging into my flesh to pull me closer. We fell to the floor in a tangle, both trying to gain the upper hand. Our mouths battled fiercely, with teeth biting and tongues delving and lips suctioning a vacuum seal. Finally, I straddled her wriggling slight form, whipped my belt off and wrapped it around her wrists. I lashed the end of the belt around the steel leg of her desk, effectively disarming her of those lilac warriors. Now at my complete mercy, I began to show her absolutely no mercy.

I punished her for her assumed superiority with my mouth -- nipping at her throat, sucking deeply at her breast, working fiercely at her clit with the tip of my tongue -- until she was screaming mindlessly with need. A need for me; the poor schmuck she was earlier taking her rich-bitch rage out on. And when I finally plunged myself into her, that perfectly waxed pussy clamped down on me and started to convulse around my re-bar like a seizure patient who forgot to take their Ativan.

A short time later, I left her office with a self-satisfied grin on my face, wondering just how she would manage to get loose the belt before her secretary found her.