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Arabic Femdom Stories => Femdom Stories => Topic started by: bardeh_puppy on February 16, 2009, 12:56:58 AM
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please karma me :cool:
Lessons in Control, 1
Have you ever wondered what it's like to be a woman? I doubt you have. You enjoy a position of power and control that few women ever experience. You revel in stature and status that is given to you as a birthright. Do men understand this innate superiority? Do men recognize the power they have? I know most of them use it, but do they question it, analyze it, turn it over and over in their minds?
And it comes as no surprise that few women even dream of seizing this power for themselves. Few women realize that their femininity can be as persuasive a weapon as the natural power of maleness. If men are the hereditary oppressors, as contemporary feminism would have you believe, then women have been their willing toadies. There is power in femaleness. There is a secret influence that women can wield.
Most women never suspect this.
Have you ever wanted to experience the other side of the coin, then? I have. As a woman I have hungered to feel as though I am the unquestioned master. Have you ever wanted to submit, to feel as though you exist and behave as the consequence of another's wishes?
Yes. I simplify. I oversimplify, perhaps, but in questions of sexual politics it is sometimes more effective to use a blunt tool than it is to use a sharp one. I want you to understand me.
I am not one of these unsuspecting lackeys that make you comfortable. I reject that position. I do not style myself as your equal--this time I am your superior. I want to know how that feels, to control and manipulate as you, quintessentially male, have done without thought.
And you look at me with raised eyebrows--one beautiful dark brow shoots up as I tell you quietly that you are to take off your clothes. You laugh, then realize that I'm not smiling. You realize that this isn't one of our playful moments. You realize that this is somehow different.
You do as you are told. You take off your clothes, item by item. I watch as your body emerges from its protective cocoon, and, as always, I am moved. This time, however, I maintain a position of bored hauteur. How many times have you remained unmoved by my nakedness? I want you to know how it feels. I want you to be me.
And your skin is smooth, white and fragile-looking in the dimness of the room. You look somehow vulnerable, penis not yet erect, puzzled look on your face. I like this. I like knowing that I have thrown you off-balance. I like knowing that the exercise has begun. And will you do as you're told?
"Lie on the bed," I tell you, my tone neither playful nor soft, but impersonal and cool. There is a lesson to be learned, you see, and I choose not to cloud it with tenderness. Your lips curve as you begin to protest, and I curtail the flow of words before they begin. "You will do as you are told. Otherwise, you will be punished."
You start to speak, chuckling slightly, perhaps a bit nervous. "Hey, you're in charge, then."
"Correct," I answer, neither sharing nor acknowledging your amusement. "Here are the rules. You will not speak unless you are spoken to. You will not move unless requested to. You will address me as your mistress, and you will function as my slave. Is that clear?"
You look puzzled, but I can see the beginnings of arousal as your upper chest begins to flush pink in the dimness. "Yes, mistress."
And you still think this is a game, don't you? You are playing along, humoring me, but that isn't enough. I desire your submission and compliance, and I will have it.
"Lie on the bed," I tell you. "On your back, arms and legs spread." You move to obey me. This is good. As you participate, the playful mood will leave you. I plan to make sure of that. You arrange yourself on the bed, with your legs slightly parted and your arms reaching above your head towards the bars of the headboard. Turning my back on you, I open the top drawer of the bureau and withdraw two sets of handcuffs, modified by the substitution of long chains for the shorter ones. As I turn, you see me holding them and your whole body stiffens in apprehension.
You and I have toyed with restraints before, scarves and stockings, loosely tied. But this is something different, and the symbolism of the handcuffs in comparison to the fabric ties is as powerful as the actuality. These are stronger, more definite, certainly more menacing. Certainly more erotic.
With no hesitation I affix the first set of cuffs to your ankles, passing the chain between the bars of the footboard. Any movement on your part will cause the cuffs to pinch your skin uncomfortably, but you have been instructed not to move. It is really in your best interests to remain still. As I turn to attend to your wrists, your hands come down to stroke my breasts in the teasing manner that you know I always crave.
Oh, not this time. My tone is deliberate and low: "You have been commanded not to move without my permission. This is a warning. The next time you misbehave, you will be punished." Smiling uncertainly, you withdraw your hands and return them to the headboard as I resume the task of binding you.
Really, it is a pleasure.
You are now secured and I stand to survey my work. You are incomparably beautiful, impossibly helpless. Your skin is now covered with the flush of arousal, though I can still see uncertainty and apprehension on your face. I think it is time to reassure you. I bend to kiss your lips, brushing them only gently with my own, the first gesture of affection yet. Your tongue hurries to meet mine, and I move away from you with a warning glance. Careful. Careful.
"It's time to begin," I tell you calmly, and you smile once again, certain that the lesson you will be taught will be a pleasant one. It will be, for me. And I hope that you will be a willing, eager pupil. That, however, remains to be seen. Careful discipline will ensure your cooperation, that much is certain.
I kneel on the bed next to your prone form, looking you up and down with a calculating glance. Already my dominance is beginning to excite me; seeing the peachy tint of your skin and your partially erect penis curving against the flatness of your belly has always moved me, but never in such a proprietary, gloating manner. As I imagine mounting you and possessing you thoroughly, feeling you withhold your climax until I instruct you to fill me with your heat, I become impatient.
It seems that I have a few lessons to learn as well.
I look at you at length, waiting until I have mastered the wave of arousal that threatens momentarily to undermine my authority. Then I begin.
"You'll be a good slave, won't you?" I ask you softly, testing the efficacy of my training. You nod vigorously, becoming intrigued with what you think is a game. "You will speak when I ask you a question," I inform you. "Now, you will be a good slave, won't you?" I repeat, directing the warmth of my breath into your ear.
"Yes, mistress," you answer, and I can tell that you feel a bit silly, a bit self-conscious. This, too, will change once you become fully entrenched. I'm sure of it. Because my fingers suddenly move to your nipples, pinching them hard between thumb and forefinger.
"Good," I whisper, squeezing the pink buttons, not quite enough to hurt, but enough to remind you of your position. And your nipples are uncommonly sensitive, rather like my own--usually you become erect with only a few passes of my fingertips. And as I watch you, I can see that such an abrupt approach has the same effect: your penis quickly becomes stiff as I roll your nipples between my fingers, pulling them gently, watching your reaction at my leisure.
Your eyes are close now, and your mouth opens in a sigh of pleasure. "Mistress?" you ask, and I am so pleased that you remembered my new title that I permit you a question. "Must I remain silent?"
"No," I assure you, stroking your now-tender nipples idly. "Sounds of pleasure are entirely appropriate."
As I play with your nipples more, you become restless and start to shift on the bed, unconsciously moving your hips in a steady rhythm. This displeases me; you do have explicit instructions not to move.
"You've been instructed not to move," I remind you. "I warned you before. Do you understand that you have disobeyed my orders?"
Your eyes widen in surprise. I can tell that you hadn't even noticed the motions; they were purely instinctual. That, however, is no excuse. For me to control you, you must learn to control yourself.
"Yes--mistress," you answer hesitantly, and I can see that you want to offer some explanation. I can also see that you know that it will not be allowed. Good. You are learning.
"You have disobeyed me, and I will have to punish you. Do you understand?"
"Yes, mistress." You answer this question more readily, and you seem almost eager, and curious, to see how I will chastise you.
My fingers caress your nipples slowly and gently, returning you to the peak of arousal once more. Your eyes close in pleasure, and you seem to think the punishment has been forgotten. But I remove one hand from your nipples and strike you on the cheek, hard.
You gasp in shock and your eyes fly open. You didn't expect this from me, did you? I have always been so gentle--did I hurt you? I did. But I see that your penis is now fully erect, and it looks almost painfully hard. "You won't disobey me again, will you, slave?" I purr, stroking your chest once more.
"No, mistress," you answer, panting. "Whatever you ask."
Whatever I ask. Good. I want you inside me, but it will be at my convenience. I think of the times you have satisfied yourself with my body, leaving me unfulfilled. I think of your helplessness and your utter submission, chained before me. I think of your fast heartbeat and the red mark my hand has made on your cheek. I think of the hunger in your eyes as you look at me, and I am ready.
I am damp and warm from this short lesson, and I stand to remove my clothing. You watch me as I undress, and I make my movements purposefully lascivious to tempt you more. In other situations you would run your hands up and down my body as I disrobed, squeezing and probing in your impatience to have me beneath you. I mimic your motions with my own hands. "You want to touch me, don't you?" I taunt you, recognizing the covetous look you direct towards me as I slide my hands over my small, firm breasts, pinching my own nipples as I had yours. With one hand I reach between my thighs and stroke myself, feeling the slick warmth of my surfaces, imagining the eager pink hue that I take on when aroused. I masturbate as you lie there, unable to move or to take part. I am tempted to continue to orgasm, but I can do that whenever I please. Having you chained to my bed is not an opportunity I choose to take lightly.
I straddle you then, and lean over so that my breasts are just above your face. "Lick my nipples, slave," I command you. "Just use your tongue." Eagerly you comply, and I place my hands on my shoulders to steady myself as the delicious warmth of your tongue strokes me in just the right way. I lower my hips so that I can feel your hardness against me--I am not yet ready for you to enter me. I want you to feel the frustration that I sometimes feel. I want you to whimper in anticipation.
Your tongue flutters over one nipple, then the other. The soft wetness is pleasing to me, and I hum my approval as I guide to your mouth first one breast, then the other. At the same time, I slide myself along the length of your shaft, feeling you grow slick with my moisture. I am growing more impatient, and increase the pressure and speed of my movements so that the head of your extended penis slips over my clitoris. I imagine myself opening like a flower as I become more excited, and I visualize the way you must look now, engorged and tight, with the velvety head shiny and wet. I think about the moisture your own body produces as you become more intensely aroused, that pearly drop of liquid that quivers as your pulse throbs there.
And your lips have now closed around my nipple, beginning a delicious sucking that makes me gasp-- a nip of the teeth now and then, how well you know.
"Slave," I say, and you understand my warning: you have not been permitted that intimacy. I briefly consider a punishment for your unwelcome initiative, but decide that it is not warranted. Really, you are doing quite well for such a new pupil.
I am ready now to take you inside me. As I have moved myself against your erection I have come closer and closer to orgasm, and I know tat the moment I bring my body down upon yours I will no longer need to hold back. Angling my body, I guide the head of your penis to my opening, and with one smooth motion I slide down onto you, taking you inside me deeply and fully.
And my wetness holds you close, like the friendly embrace I've been withholding from you. I feel the heat and hardness as you throb impatiently within me, and I know it is taking a great deal of restraint for you to remain still and silent. How long can you maintain such an obedient attitude?
I wait. I wait for you to move, and you do not. You look up at me with a proud gleam in your eye: your compliance has been noted and met with approval. For that I am willing to reward you. Raising my hips, I let my full weight carry me down onto your erection again. I know you've always liked this, you see. "I will use you for my own pleasure," I tell you, and you smile as I come down upon you once more. You've always liked this.
I become more and more excited as I watch you behave so submissively; to have such control is immensely arousing to me. I ride you slowly and deeply, adjusting my position so that the tip of your penis strokes me in precisely the right places. My speed increases as I become lost in my own pleasure, lost in using you as a tool to obtain my orgasm.
And it comes, lurking with a menacing intensity, then bursting forth like a gorgeous surprise. My body shudders around you as I continue my hard, deep strokes. I come again and again, riding you with a determination that is perfect in its single- mindedness. Your lower body is covered with my wetness, and I notice the scent of my arousal as I slow my motions, panting from my exertions.
The contractions of my climax subside slowly, and I open my eyes to see you smiling at me, a lewd, joyous smile that is deliciously wicked. I'm not sure I like that smile, though, and, since my pleasure is complete, I quickly disengage our bodies so that your penis, still hard and long, slides wetly from me to rest against your belly. I admire its rosy red against the whiteness of your skin.
Your eyes have widened in deprivation. "Mistress, please!"
"Please? Please what, slave?" I ask, assuming an indifference now that I have obtained my own satisfaction.
"Please, mistress--fuck me some more!" Your tone speaks of urgency, of your eagerness to be enveloped in my warm confines once again.
"Do you want to come?" I ask you softly, and as I speak to you your hips sway in deprivation.
"Yes! Oh, yes!" You are moving in earnest now, and I am no longer interested in depriving you of some sort of satisfaction since I have had my own. But I will not furnish the means to attain it. You are now responsible for your own orgasm.
I fetch the key to the cuffs from the bureau, and I loosen the cuffs at your wrists. Taking your hand in my own, I guide it to your erection, wrapping your fingers around the shaft to make my intention clear. "You may pleasure yourself now, slave. But you may not come until you have gained my permission."
You briefly manage a disappointed look before the pressure of your own hand begins to provide some stimulation. My slickness is still enough to furnish lubrication, so your tightened fingers slide easily over your hardness. I watch you caress yourself, becoming excited once more. Your sounds are intoxicating--I love the soft grunts and sighs you produce as you stroke your erection. My own hand steals downward as I watch you, and I slide my fingers inside myself, mesmerized by the motions of your body as you masturbate.
Your whole body begins to quiver as your release approaches. "May I come now, mistress?" you plead, thrusting strongly into the warm tunnel formed by your fingers.
"Not yet, slave," I answer, and a look of utter despair crosses your beautiful tense features. "First I want you to taste me."
And my words have the desired effect: I know that it takes a monstrous effort for you not to erupt just then. But the motion of your hand slows, and I position myself appropriately, with my hips straddling your shoulders. "You may begin," I tell you, lowering myself against your lips.
Your tongue steals out and licks me with urgency. I imagine being in your position, under a woman as you are, and I wonder what it must be like to kiss her so intimately. As your tongue stabs at my clitoris with increasing fervor, I feel the pressure building within me once more, and I direct you, "Put your tongue inside me." Instantly your tongue is driven deep inside me, and the delicious thrusting propels me closer and closer as my fingers tug at my hardened nipples.
And I can tell by the muffled sounds that you make that you are nearing your climax once more. Just as I feel the explosive pleasure begin to radiate from the insistent probing of your tongue, I whisper, "You may come now, slave."
With a loud groan, your body tightens, though you try valiantly to continue the movements of your mouth. You quiver and gasp in release, and the pumping motion of your hand stops abruptly. I move away from you just in time to see your penis as it produces that hot, whitish fluid that signals your satisfaction.
And you breathe hard, and your chest rises and falls for several moments as the force of your release subsides. "You have been a good slave," I purr approvingly, and I just catch your smile before I bend to lick the semen from your skin. I relish your taste, love the heat of you.
Once I have finished, I unlock the cuffs from your ankles, and you stretch luxuriously, bending your joints to remove the stiffness. "Thank you, slave," I whisper, returning to your lips for a final kiss.
"Yes, mistress," you sigh, closing your eyes with a gentle smile of pleasure.
Lessons in control: part 2
And I've been planning your next lesson, you know. You did rather well in your first, I think, though there are still some refinements that must be learned. You seem to have grasped the balance between yourself and me, slave and mistress. You seem to be aware of the fact that disobedience will bring punishment. Now what can you do for me?
That is the best part of having a slave. I have fantasized for months about having you at my command, not only controlling your pleasure, but controlling my own through you. Demanding that you satisfy me with detailed, explicit instructions. How well do you follow directions?
This remains to be seen.
I speak to you in my new tone of command. You look up from the diversion you have been pursuing, and aim a questioning glance at me. You seem to recognize the tone, but I'm not sure you understand. Your look speaks of uncertainty. That uncertainty should not be there. When I speak to you, you are to respond with speed and accuracy.
"Go clean yourself thoroughly, slave," I command you, and you seem surprised that I intend to further your lessons. Oh, this is only the beginning. Obediently you rise and begin to walk towards the shower, shedding clothing as you go. Perhaps you hope to tantalize me with premature glimpses of your body.
Isn't power a delicious thing?
I hear the water running as you wash. I take this time to walk to the bedroom, checking to be sure that all is in place. Satisfied with my preparations, I undress and sit on the bed to wait for you. As I wait, my own private erotic movie flickers through my mind, and it comes as a slight surprise when you step into the room, patting yourself dry with a towel.
"Tonight, slave, you will learn to please me as I direct you. We have already established my control over you, haven't we?" I look at you from under my lashes with a flirtatious wink.
"Yes, mistress," you answer unnecessarily. We both know that I'm in charge. "What do you ask of me first?"
"Sit down," I tell you, gesturing towards the bed. You do, and I return to the top drawer of the bureau where I keep my secret things. I turn around, and you gasp aloud when you see the riding crop in my hands. I caress the crop as you watch me, and twirl its loop in my fingers. "Now. Tonight I will demand specific tasks of you, and you will execute them. You will execute them to my satisfaction, at my command, or you will be punished. Do you understand?"
"Yes, mistress." Unnecessary again. Your agreement is implied; disagreement would be unspeakable.
"Very good. Do as you're told, and you will be rewarded. Fail in your tasks, and you will be punished. I think that's fair." I smile at you, a predatory, smug smile. I never knew control could be so exhilarating. Just knowing that you will perform my every whim--
Ah, well.
"I want you to make yourself hard for me, slave. I want you to stroke your cock while I watch."
"May I lie down?" you ask, and I decide that there is a better position for you to assume.
"No, kneel in front of me." You kneel before me on the carpet, and your eyes are level with my hips. I know my nakedness excites you; you have on occasion adopted this position to please me with your tongue. I look down at you as your fingers close around the shaft of your penis, already beginning to harden from the command that I've issued. One hand wanders up to touch your nipples, one, then the other, as the other begins to slide up and down along your erection. And what an enticing sight. You would confess from time to time having masturbated of a morning, and your admissions always excited me, always. I am enjoying the sight of you as you handle yourself.
I watch your penis grow and harden, and it becomes a pleasant purple-red as you touch yourself. You look up at me with a degree of humility that pleases me immensely. "I'm hard now, mistress."
"Yes, I see that." I lie on the bed now, on my back, and motion you over. "Come here." You sit beside me on the bed. "I want you to make me wet now. You are allowed to touch only my nipples. You are allowed to use only your hands. Is that clear?"
You nod as a slow smile winds its way over your features. I make sure that the crop is within easy reach if you happen to deviate from my specific directions.
You arrange yourself over me, as if you planned to enter me, and support yourself on your elbows. Your hands come up to touch my breasts, cupping them in your hands. They are small and firm and extremely sensitive to touch; you know the way. You do.
Your fingers begin to caress my small, pinkish nipples, just the tips of your fingers at first, then the palms of your hands, stroking me gently, teasing me. This is what I like. As my breath comes faster, you delicately seize a nipple between each thumb and forefinger and squeeze, hard. An involuntary moan escapes me, and I realize my hips have begun to move in arousal. I also realize that I have become quite damp with your exertions. Nicely done, slave.
And I am about to commend you on your expertise and subservience when you lower your head to my breasts and take a nipple into your mouth. Your lips are gentle and caressing at first, but then become assertive and challenging as you nip at the hardened peak with your teeth. I hope you are prepared to face the consequences of such impertinence.
My crop comes down across your buttocks with enough force to sting, though not enough to welt. I know--I've practiced. You yelp in surprise, and I notice in that moment that you have brought your hips hard down against my legs, so that I can feel your penis straining against my thighs. This has excited you, hasn't it?
I hope disobedience won't become a habit.
"You disobeyed me, slave. You must learn to perform my commands when I issue them, and not before." My tone is harsh as I stroke your buttocks with my crop; this is a gentle reminder that I wield the power in this instance.
"Yes, mistress," you gasp, grinding your pelvis against my thighs for one last moment before you lunge away from me. "Please forgive my disobedience. What may I do for you next?"
"Continue with your mouth now. Perhaps I will be persuaded to forgive you if you behave well this time."
So you bring your mouth down to my breasts once more, using your lips on one nipple and your fingers on the other. You suck them gently, then harder, and you nibble gently from time to time. Soon the combined feel of your soft lips and fingertips mingles with the rough pinches and bites to make me weak with desire.
Power is the best aphrodisiac. Is this what was meant?
"Lick them," I tell you, and you eagerly comply; I notice that you are sliding your penis along my legs, stroking yourself against my skin. I decide not to reprimand you, however, for you are really summoning up the most delightful feelings from deep within my body. With my eyes tightly closed I think of having you on your knees before me once again, thoroughly trained, beautifully finished.
We have made a good start.
Eventually I realize that I am as excited as such play can make me, and it is time to move on to another stage of instruction. I look up at you meaningfully, and you move away from my breasts. "Wonderful," I purr, genuinely pleased with the fact that you can be commanded without words. "Lie on your back."
I move to allow you to assume the required position. I then arrange myself above you so that your tongue can reach me easily; I still hold the crop in my hands, but it is merely a symbol. I do hope it won't be necessary to use it. "Now," I tell you in a confidential, cozy tone, "you are going to make me come with your mouth. Do you understand?"
You nod enthusiastically, and the boyish smile that tickles me so utterly spreads across your face. "You are rather talented, you know," I tell you, conversationally, "and so I expect only your finest." I settle myself down so that I am easily accessible to your tongue and lips. "First I want you to use only your tongue. I want you to lick me, up and down. You may begin."
With characteristic eagerness you set to your task, and I feel the soft broadness of your tongue as it slides over my most sensitive folds. You do this slowly at first, and then with increasing speed and pressure as my enjoyment builds. Your tongue feels wonderful, delicate then strong, as you tease me. You linger on my clitoris for what seems quite a long time, and I look down at you, hoping you will be able to sense my disapproval. But your eyes are closed as you continue working, and you do not note my glance of warning. Very well.
I slide the crop behind me and brush it over your stiff penis, a warning. Your eyes fly open as I pat you with it, and you devote yourself to your task with added fervor. Up, and down, slowly. Slowly. My eyes close and my hands move to caress my breasts, and once again I replay erotic scenes in my mind, conscious only of the motion of your tongue and the warmth it creates within me.
"Suck my clit now, slave," I whisper, and immediately there is a welcome pressure there as your lips close around me. Your hands come up to stroke my buttocks and this initiative is not to be reprimanded. I like it. I like it very much.
And as I pinch my nipples, I begin to tingle all over, I begin to sizzle, which seems clichéd but which is also quite accurate. You suck at me steadily, and I feel my entire body tense up. I begin to tremble, almost there, and then my entire body seems to light up like a garish neon sign. I imagine the flush that comes over my body when I am exceptionally aroused, and I cry out with the warmth and intensity of it all.
"Stop now," I tell you breathlessly, for your ministrations have continued, and it is becoming uncomfortable to feel your tongue on me. Immediately you withdraw, and look up at me for further instructions.
I move away from you, and bring a towel to your face to clean off my juices and your saliva. You look delightful right now, damp and pink and decadent. "Did I do well, mistress?" you venture, and I am satisfied enough to commend you.
"Quite well, my dear. Quite well." I smile at you as I sit beside you, catching my breath. I look down over your body and I see that your penis is stiff still--but you have always loved doing that to a woman, watching her lose control as you drive your tongue into her. Did I lose control?
No. Control, you see, is the currency of sex now. I happen to have a lot of it. You, dear slave, do not. You stopped when I commanded it, mm? Enough said.
"What shall we have you do next?" I deliberate aloud, allowing you to think that I have not made up my mind. Ah, but I have. I know exactly what comes next. "You will obey my commands, will you not?"
"Yes, mistress," you say softly, smiling at me. I know you are hungry for attention, I know that your body is screaming to be touched. Will you ask? I do hope not. It wouldn't do. No, it wouldn't do at all.
"Good. Turn over on your stomach," I tell you, standing. You direct a puzzled look at me, and you seem about to question me until you realize that I have picked up the crop again, stroking it fondly up and down, mimicking the way I handle your penis sometimes. Playful, yet purposeful.
You turn over, then, onto your stomach, and I can tell that the pressure of your cock against the mattress pleases you. Good. This should please you. I return to the top drawer of the bureau and take from it a small tube of lubricant and my newest toy, a cylindrical vibrator. It is roughly the size of your penis, and it has provided me with hours of amusement. It is time that you enjoyed it, too
"Spread your legs apart, slave," I command you, and you do so without question, though you do not yet know what I have planned. You have not seen the vibrator in my hand. I want to surprise you, you see. "Would you like to know what it's like to be penetrated, slave?"
"Yes, mistress," you say, and perhaps you say so because you know that it is the only acceptable answer. But perhaps you mean it. I think, in fact, that you do mean it.
"I'm holding a vibrator in my hand," I tell you, and your head swings back over your shoulder to look. I gently push your head back onto the mattress. "No, moving is not allowed. You will be still. I am going to put this inside you. Will you allow it?"
And here is where the very fine line between a consensual game and absolute control becomes blurred. Do you want this? Do you know that you can say no? Do you want to say no? You know that I will not force you, that I will punish you, but that I will not force you.
A look of uncertainty crosses your features, but I happen to know that this has been part of your fantasies. You smile and tell me, "Whatever you like, mistress," and the moment of tension is gone.
"You are quite biddable," I praise you, and I uncap the lubricant. I begin to apply it liberally, both to the vibrator and to you. And you feel my fingers slip inside of you, and your body tightens up immediately. "Relax, slave," I croon. "I will not hurt you. I wouldn't damage my favorite plaything." I stroke your buttocks and the backs of your thighs until I feel your muscles relax once more, and I continue applying the lubricant.
When I have finished I lean over and whisper in your ear. "I want you to do this, slave. I want to watch you put this inside you." For I have decided that it is more likely to be pleasant if you do this, and it speaks better of my control if you will do this for yourself.
"Yes, mistress," and I can see by your expression of apprehension and arousal that I have hit on something very, very good.
You reach around and take the now-slippery vibrator in your hands. I aid you by spreading your buttocks apart, and you position the vibrator at the puckered opening between them. "Go slowly," I command you, for I know from experience that it will be infinitely more pleasurable this way.
I watch you slide the vibrator in, slowly, until it is fully inside you. Your breath has been coming harder and faster, and I know that the pain mingled with the pleasure excites you as much as it does me. The sight of you is gorgeous. Just gorgeous.
"How does it feel, slave? Do you like that?"
"Yes, mistress!" you pant, and I wonder if you have any idea how much better it can get. But of course you have never felt the thrusting there, the buildup of speed, the release that I have felt with you inside me.
I reach down and twist the base of the vibrator, and you yelp as the toy begins to hum and quiver inside of you. "Turn over," I tell you, and I can see that it takes quite an effort to do so--I know the feeling of being turned into jelly, responsive, hot jelly.
Your penis is as hard as I've ever seen it, and I am glad that this pleases you. I am glad that you have done this--would you have done it on your own if I had not commanded you? I doubt it. You have fantasized about it, thought about having such a nice, firm object inside you like this, but would you have done it?
What a good slave you are turning out to be.
I smile down at you and caress your face, which has become contorted with discomfort and excitement. I straddle you and brush myself against you. You can feel my wetness against the impossible hardness of your cock. "Fuck me, please, mistress," you whimper, and I tease you for awhile longer, watching the tension grow across your features, your eyes screwed tightly shut.
"Very well, slave," I tell you, and I slide down onto you abruptly, taking the length of you into me in a single stroke. You are deep inside me and I begin riding you hard, eager for my own climax, and equally determined to deny you yours. I move up and down, grinding my pelvis against yours to stimulate my clitoris, which I visualize as a ripe red fruit.
It doesn't take long for me to come again, because I am watching your face and imagining the feelings you must be having with the vibrator buried deep inside you. I caution you not to move, not to come, and frustration is added to the stew of emotions that I am seeing in you.
And my climax comes, and I remain atop you for a moment, then begin to withdraw. Your eyes snap open, and a wild look crosses your face as you tell me, "Don't go, you fuck!"
"What did you call me?" I ask you incredulously. But I have heard you, and I slap you, hard, relishing the sharp sound of my palm against your smooth cheek. Your body shudders, and with a spasm of your hips I am inside you again.
"You forgot the other cheek," you tell me, eyes open wide, watching my reaction. Very well. My hand meets the other cheek with the same satisfying sound, and you groan with the pleasure and pain of it all. "May I come now, mistress?" you ask me, respectful once again.
I have finished with you, I think, and so I decide to grant your request, though such an appalling lapse will be remembered. "Yes, slave. I want you to come now. I want you to come inside me."
And with a lurch you do. I feel your hot fluid filling me, and I hear the gasps and cries that are your hallmark as you tense and relax, tense and relax.
As soon as you have finished, I reach beneath you and withdraw the vibrator. "Well done, slave," I tell you, and pat you gently on the thigh. Gathering up a towel, I stroll off to the shower, leaving you to recover alone.
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nice
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10X
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nice job
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nice job!!!
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Gp
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Let's see today's lesson!
Mistress Amira
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القصة منقولة أيضا ولكن ولا تزعل كارما مني مشان تشجيع
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thxxxxxxxxx
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show me the money
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superb story
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d;; d;; d;; d;; d;; d;;
let us seeeeeeeeeeeee
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Ok let me see thnx Gp
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let's see
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let's go and read!!!
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good job thks!
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gooooooooooooood
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thanks
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thanks
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???1
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Thank you :D
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let me see your story
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good job thks!
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let's see
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It's a good job Thank you very much
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I'd like to reply so I can read the story. Thanks.
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ok
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ok
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as
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thanks
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well we will see
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thanx
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reply ya sidi lama neshof
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ok
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thnx
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thank you
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k++ lool k+ m" Gp
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ok
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we ll see
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ok...
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pravo
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seeeeeeeeeee
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well we will see
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I really want to see what is inside........
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May i read your story??
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okkkkkkkkkkk
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keep going
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reply
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i like it . good .
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nice very goood
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how
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nice
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احب اخد دروس في الكنترول
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Gp
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xxx
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reply
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yalla nshoof ya gd3an
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hiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii
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thnks
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whts in
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lets go and read
:cool:
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lool
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nice
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show please
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let us seeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee
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okkkkkkkkkkkk
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صدقني حتى لو طلع حلو مش هديك كارما
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oooooof bs
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thnks
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Thx
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thankx
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let see !
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great post
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:wink:
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lets see
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k++
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Gp Gp Gpمش هتقدر ترمش بعنيك
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الله لا تحرمنى طلتك وجمال مواضيعك يا نجم Gp
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يسلمو أديك على المجهود الرائع
Gp lool
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nice