Laying in bed, I rolled over and positioned myself to give him a blow job – a sure signal that I was in the mood and we were having sex. He didn’t complain.
After some time, I traveled up his body, leaving a trail of kisses behind me. I playfully bit his neck, kissed and sucked his sensitive zones there, and shifted to his mouth.
He smiled and turned away. “What makes you think you warrant a kiss?”
I smiled back playfully, my hands gripped the side of his face and I attempted to force his head still for a kiss.
I was suddenly on my back, forcefully thrown off of him and pinned down by a hand around my throat. Okay, so maybe we weren’t being playful.
“Who is in charge?”
“You,” I couldn’t help smiling. That firm voice was one that gets me excited and anticipating what’s to come.
“That’s right. I have another idea for your mouth,” he leaned back briefly to grab some lube and then positioned his cock at my mouth. He slowly inserted it and withdrew, once, twice, and then pushed back to the resistance of my throat. I opened wider, exhaled, opened my throat to try to accommodate more. I didn’t get much more, but some. “So good, you’re getting there,” he stated softly, his finger teased between my lips, plunged in and curled deliciously. I whimpered and arched, so ready to cum already. He stopped and looked at me. “No cumming,” he ordered.
I took a deep breath, nodded, tried to relax with his finger rather than tense against it. He rubbed in ways that I loved, but I kept my eyes opened and focused on his face and didn’t cum. He leaned down beside me, his hand patted and then smacked at my lips as he whispered in my ear, “you can cum when I kiss you. Really kiss you. Not when you force me to, not when my lips graze yours,” his mouth hovered over my lips, stirred from one corner to the other, lips so close that my tongue could easily touch – wanted to touch. He stopped smacking. “You can’t cum until I kiss you,” he repeated, still kept his mouth close to my own, the finger again inserted and rubbed, the palm brushed against sensitively stung skin. He coerced my body to squirt.
“What did you just do?” he sounded disappointed. I was angry at him for forcing an orgasm that I had no control over.
“I came,” I all but wailed.
“Yes you did. What should I do now?”
“Kiss me?” I suggested.
“What are you going to do to be punished?”
I hated being asked to decide my own punishment. It wasn’t fair. Especially since he forced the orgasm. “Head?”
“You won’t like it,” he warned. I loved giving him head. “Understand? It’s a punishment,” he picked me up like a rag doll and flung me to the side of the bed, a hand in my hair with my head over the side before I could get my bearings. I opened my mouth to receive him and he thrusted in, deeply, not giving me time to adjust. Tears sprang to my eyes unbidden and I tried to take more of him, to relax around him. He withdrew and pushed right back in, hit the back and kept pushing patiently. My hand slapped at his thigh, I couldn’t breathe. When he withdrew, I coughed.
“No cumming,” he reminded me and pushed me into the center of the bed. He entered my body, and I took calming breaths, kept my eyes on him, tried not to cum. He positioned himself up to rub a place that is amazing to me. I struggled to relax.
“Please, let me cum,” I begged. I touched his face softly, my hands roamed his body and went back to his face, occasionally tried to pull him closer to my face. “Please kiss me.”
“Oh you can cum,” he said, “whenever you want. And if you keep putting your hands on my face to insist on a kiss, I will put hands on your face.” I withdrew my hands, kept them to his shoulders. With him fully in control, my brain stopped thinking and I just felt what was going on.
Then, he positioned pillows under my hips and the head rubbed up against the roof of my body. I tried, but this time to no avail. I tensed and arched and orgasmed, didn’t even try to hide something he could feel around him, and moaned. He let me calm down, increased the tempo until I almost came again…almost. He edged me four or five times, it felt easily like twenty times. I thought he was being extreme. He withdrew.
“And now what’s it to be?” He flipped me over, reached for some rope and tied my wrists to the bedpost, stretched me slanted across the bed. “Come on, decide. You came.”
“Anything, please let me cum,” my body trembled from all the edging, from the need for release.
“Should I beat you?” He hand spanked my ass, hard, not building up but already at the level that stung and kept that.
“Yes, please let me cum.” My ass already felt hot and red.
A blindfold was placed on my face. I heard him in the toy chest. “I’ll tell you what. I’ll let you decide your punishment-”
“Anything,” I panted, desperate.
“You can choose what’s in my left hand or my right. That’s all I’m going to give you.”
I had the choice but no clue what they were. Evil. Wicked. He’s left-handed; an instrument with more precision and force was easier with his left hand. “Right.”
“Okay,” he took a moment, and then his hand was back to spanking. “This isn’t it. This is your warm up.” I tried to remain still and not twist away from his hand. I have no idea if I was successful but suddenly his hand stopped and hot wax poured down the cheek that was already hot and sensitive.
I cried out, jerked, felt wax run towards my sex, froze. That was why he needed a moment and spanked me – for the wax to melt. He poured some more, and it burned against skin recently hit. It was a challenge to remain still; I was vocal about the pain, however.
“We’ll go up a little distance,” he said, and the wax splattered and pooled up my spine. Something cold touched the center of my back and I shuddered from the surprise. More hot wax rained around the cold object. “Stay still if you don’t want to burn yourself,” he warned. I realized that the shockingly cold object was the candle holder laying on the center of my back.
He was seriously testing my will tonight. Staying still was never my strong suit.
He took off the blindfold and I saw him untying my wrists. He picked up the candle and put it on the nightstand. “Come here,” he hand was in my hair as he dragged/motioned me to the headboard. I gripped the top, my breasts against the cool wood, and he entered and pounded into my body. The hand compelled my head to the side, and he kissed me with a crazy passion. When he stopped, I was breathless and already orgasming. The head of his penis crashed into my wall repeatedly, caused both pleasure and pain. I was going to feel it later, but my body welcomed it, I pushed against him as he pushed into me and a tempest dance of a harsh orgasm welled. My screams covered his own sounds of pleasure.
It was the roughest we had ever had sex, I thought.
After, my body unable to even move, my fingers too sore from gripping the headboard to release it, he eased out of me and gently pulled me away, onto the soft mattress and against his body. He curled me up tightly against him, my back on the bed, the top of my head tucked into his chest with his face securely keeping it there, his arms my anchor and blanket, my legs draped over his. He held me, kept me warm, praised me, loved me, cherished me until my trembling ceased and I drifted into a deep slumber.
I needed that.