Struggle & Submission

Oh shit, she thinks—I am going to miss his phone call—he always calls around 5:30 PM when he is in town. She checks the clock in her car, 5:22, I will never make it she thinks as she presses down harder on the gas. She has just come from her favorite aerobics class and sweat covers her body, makes the bra top cling and the spandex bike shorts damp in all the right spots. What is it about working out that makes her nipples stand out so? She hasn't seen him in months and is anxiously waiting seeing him again, but now she is becoming nervous and apprehensive.

Shit Shit Shit, she admonishes herself when she see the 1 number blinking on the answering machine. She presses the play button and immediately recognizes his voice,

"Where are you? Meet me at the hotel bar at 7:00pm for a drink." Relief overcomes her—he doesn't sound too pissed.

The shower feels so good after a good work out, the water cascading over her and the lathered shampoo in her hair. What to wear what to wear, she thinks and decides the sexy, but not too provocative red dress. Red is her favorite color, a statement of who she is and very indicative of her personality, and it seems to go well with the reddish blonde hair. The white push up demi bra will be great around her 36C breasts and the matching thong panties work well too. For some reason he doesn't like her to were anything white, but what the hell she thinks, its my life and I will wear what I want to.

She walks into the crowded noisy bar, and scans the room for his familiar form in the sea of faces. She glances at her watch and it says 7:16. Not here yet, she ponders as she sees a spot at the bar and decides to go have a strong one to calm her nerves before he gets there. Several of the men next to her try to make eye contact, and she is aware that they find her attractive, but she gives off no signals that she is interested in anyone approaching her. A drunken businessman in his 40's comes up anyway and begins a conversation.

"Hey, I am……."Blah Blah blah is all she hears as he babbles he never looks into her eyes, his stare starts at her breasts and continue down to her waist and hips and then settle on her breasts.

"Look, I don't want to be rude to you, but I am waiting for someone."

"Little girl, you ought to be waiting for me," he slurs as he shuffles for balance.

I see him striding towards us in a very quick pace, and his dark stare is ominous and threatening. Predatory, like an animal protecting his territory, he simply places his hand on the drunk's shoulder and says

"Fuck off, she was waiting for me."

The deflated man looks into his eyes and immediately backs down and teeters off. She looks up at him and gives him a half grin.

He moves behind her like he is going to sit on a barstool, but he stops when he is directly behind her leans down circles her waist with his hands.

"Where were you when I called?" He whispers in her ear. Unconsciously she leans back against him and feels his hard body behind her.

"Well, I um well, I was working out, and there was a car wreck, and….," she finds her self babbling in nervousness, making no intelligible sense. He slides onto the stool next to hers while she is still talking and orders drinks for both of them.

"Two scotches on the rocks please."

"I don't like scotch, I would rather have wine" The bartender looks confused, and he motions with a wave of his hand for him to go ahead and get the drinks.

He just looks at her with one of those looks that says in unspoken language, shut up.

Being with this man is totally unfamiliar territory; she has NEVER been a submissive or passive person, only in her fantasies. In her work she is treated with respect and admiration, and more often than not her boss and her coworkers are trying to kiss ass.

After several scotches—he never does order he the wine she wanted- he asks the bartender for the bill, pays and grabs her hand into his and they walk together to the elevator.

They step in and he immediately yanks her head back and kisses her so hard she is breathless. His hands roam freely across her back and lower, when he gets to her ass he squeezes hard. Her eyes fly open and he is looking at her with a cocked eyebrow, as if to say, that was for being late, and the first time in the night, he smiles.

The key slips into the lock easily, and he gently pushes her ahead of him into the room. He walks over to where the couch is and pats the spot next to him. She smiles and tells him that she has to go to the bathroom, the old standby excuse that she has always used when she needs to buy time.

She goes in, puts the lid down, and sits on the toilet. How in the hell can I get out of here, she wonders? I am in really over my head here, Jesus, she curses herself for being so stupid. She remembers that she put her purse near the chair by the door.

She walks out, looks at him, and says,

"Do you mind if I make my self something to drink, maybe a glass of water or something?" She starts to walk to the kitchen as she sees his head turn back, she quickly makes a dash for the door. They make it there at the same time, except he is crouched lower and scoops her up like a child and flings her over his shoulder.

"Stop it, put me down right now, please sweetheart, please put me down."

He flings her down on the couch next to him, sits on her feet so she can't get up, and looks directly into her eyes---They hold eye contact for what seems like an eternity. Still hold her feet underneath him, he unbuttons his pants and then turn his head back to her.

She smiles and slides to the floor in a kneeling position and slowly glides his pants and boxers off his legs. He has great athletic looking, ungodly strong legs. She runs her hands all over him, his legs and groin, settling on the part that is the most sensitive. Slowly, lovingly she starts to lick him, featherlike strokes that he can barely feel. Gently she feels his hands running through her hair and on the back of her neck.

"You better do a good job, or I am going to spank you ass like a child." "Suck it harder," he growls at her. She takes it all the way, harder, she has always loved this, and it feels so damn good and turns her on. She starts to suck harder when she hears,

"What kind of whore doesn't know how to give a decent blow job?" And WHACK, slaps her on the ass so hard he leaves a hand print there. She continues to suck him with renewed vigor and energy. She knows that she is good at this. She can feels that he is seconds from exploding when he pulls her mouth away and tells her to stand up.

"Take that dress off NOW and strip for me." He knows that this makes her uncomfortable, even though she has a pretty good body, she doesn't like to be totally naked.

Holding his eye contact, but never saying a word, she reaches behind her and slowly unzips the dress. Cloth falls off her shoulders, and she slides the dress past her waist and hips. He is looking at her like an animal, with furrowed brows, clearly, he is not happy about something.

Shit, why in the hell did I wear white, she contemplates.

He beckons her closer until she is inches from his face—grabs the bra and rips it from her body. She bends down to grab a piece of the material and he flops her over his lap like a rag doll. Slap slap slap

"You know I hate it when whores wear white." He continues the onslaught on her ass and thighs. She is crying, but her panties are soaked. He trails his fingers along the crack where the thong is embedded, hooks the thong and rips them away as well. He pulls her on top of him, so that she is straddling him, and immediately her legs clinch his waist and he enters her warm and inviting place.

"Oh my God" She thinks, he is so damn good at this, He is rocking her hips to his rhythm and she feels her first orgasm starting to build. Abruptly he stands up, and with her legs still around him, and him still fucking her, he walks them both over to the bed. He fucks her long and hard, but hasn't exploded yet.

"Get on all fours," he orders. Are you ready for round 2?

To Be Continued...