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The Beginning (Erotica) Deep breaths. In and out. I look out through the windshield of my car and see that the sun is already setting. How long have I been sitting here? Too long, I realize. Steady, deep breaths. I bring my shaking hands together in front of me, trying to calm myself. I stare at them in my lap. You’d think that after a lifetime of fantasizing about something, I’d be more prepared. But maybe that is exactly the problem. One more deep breath, and I grab my purse from the passenger seat. No turning back now. I open the car door and get out, immediately feeling the shakiness of my legs. Ridiculous. I grab the car door to steady myself. These insanely high heels are not helping the situation. Did you know how much of a struggle they would be in this moment? Undoubtedly. At this rate, I’ll be lucky if I make it to the front door. I laugh at myself and make that final internal push to pull myself together. I close the car door behind me and lock it, pull my purse over my shoulder and head towards my greatest fantasy. I met you a little over a month ago. Unexpectedly. When I was starting to doubt that someone like you actually existed outside of my head. Isn’t that always the way it happens? I still remember sitting across from you during that first meeting. You were doing such a good job of being kind and polite and casual about the whole thing. And there I was just staring at your hands as they held your cup of coffee. Strong, purposeful, damaged, lived-in hands. Hands that had actually done something. And I just kept imagining them on my skin, stroking me gently, grabbing me roughly, spanking my… you noticed my distraction of course. “Are you listening, sweetheart?” With a laugh in your voice and a knowing smile on your face. I should have called you out for calling me sweetheart. But really, who was I trying to fool? We both knew you had me already. I’d done exactly what you’d asked. An entire night and day free of obligations. I’m walking to your front door in a short black dress, the shortest I own. So short that I have to keep pulling it down so I’m not completely exposing myself to your neighbors. No panties, no bra. Just like you ordered. Shaved bare. Soaking wet. I wonder if the wetness is visible on my thighs. The fabric of my dress is rubbing against my nipples, doing nothing to help the situation. I walk slowly to your door in these impossibly high heels. Somehow I manage to ring the door bell. You open the door. My pussy clenches at the sight of you. Really? I try to look calm and confident. You take one look at me, step outside and take hold of my shoulders. “Are you okay, sweetheart?” I nod, and the facade falls away. You take hold of my face with your hands. “I’m proud of you for making it to the door.” I laugh awkwardly. You smile down at me. Some time passes. You kiss me. Slowly the edge of the nervousness melts away, and I can feel the excitement again. And then that intense arousal. You step away and look down at me. “What do you want to do, sweetheart? There’s no rush. No pressure.” Of course I know what we’re supposed to be doing, and this is certainly not it. “I’m ready, just like we talked about.” You look into my face critically, as if to judge the truth of my words or the strength of my conviction. “You tell me if it’s too much and we stop, understood?” I nod. You step back and hold the door open for me. I walk past you over the threshold. Your entryway is clean, simple, meticulous, just like you. I’ve been here before but it seems different today. I hear you close the door and walk up behind me. You find the zipper at the back of my dress and pull it down. “Take off your dress. Put your purse and the dress on the sideboard. Keep the heels on.” God, that voice. Has there ever been anything sexier than you speaking in that dominant, stern, confident, probably aroused… “Now.” I pull my dress down over my hips, and step out of it. I fold it and place it on the sideboard together with my purse. I look back at you. “When I give you an order, what do you say?” “Yes, Sir.” “Good girl. Don’t forget again.” (Silence.) “Yes, Sir.” I laugh nervously. You close your eyes, and I wonder if you are frustrated with me or secretly delighted. “Go to the living room and present yourself for inspection.” I acknowledge and walk as gracefully as I can to the center of the living room. My heels sink down into the soft rug. I spread my legs wide and lift my arms up. I clasp my hands behind my head. Back straight, chest out. Just like I’d practiced in my bedroom, but so amazingly different. You walk up behind me slowly. I’m keenly aware of my nakedness in contrast to your fully-clothed state. You run your beautiful hand over my ass. I realize I should probably be self-conscious about my body, but I’m too aroused. At this point I don’t care what I look like, so long as it’s good enough for you to keep going and hopefully fuck me at some point. “Straighten your back.” I obey. And I wonder if you can tell how wet I am. You walk in front of me and grab hold of my nipples. I moan and lean forward into your touch. “God, you are one hot little slut, aren’t you?” You have no idea. “Yes, Sir, please…” You pull sharply on my nipples, and I gasp. The pain is intense but quickly melts into pleasure, and I can’t stifle another moan. “Control yourself. Stand up straight. Keep your position. Move only when I tell you to move. Understood?” “Yes, Sir.” You move behind me and order me to bend over. I grab my ankles. I can feel the air against my wet exposed pussy. I know you must see it. Further confirmation of how desperately I want you. Your hand travels over my ass, and I struggle to remain still. Just when I think you will touch my pussy, your hand comes down hard on my ass cheek. I just manage to keep my balance. “I see we have a concentration problem.” Another slap. Fuck, that was hard. These aren’t the playful slaps my vanilla boyfriends gave me after we had those awkward “will you spank me?” conversations. These are the slaps of a man who absolutely loves spanking. “Let’s see if we can’t get you to pay attention.” You order me to the far wall of the living room. I bend over, hands against the wall, ass out, legs spread. You begin a full-on assault on my ass. The painful impact of your hand is everything. I wish I could see how red my ass has become. Done, your hand moves to my pussy. “Soaking wet, bitch.” Fuck. I clench, more wetness. You laugh and deliver one last especially painful slap to my ass. “Back to the rug. On your knees.” The rug is at once soft and rough against my knees. I sit back on my heels, shoulders back, chest out, hands on my thighs. I look down at the floor. “Beautiful, sweetheart.” Fuck. Is there nothing this man can say that doesn’t drive me crazy? “Here’s what’s going to happen. I’m going to give you exactly what you want. The privilege of sucking my cock. You do a good job, and I’ll let you cum. You fail to please me, and I leave you a quivering sopping mess. Fair?” I stare at you. “Yes, Sir. Please, Sir.” You unbutton your jeans and lower them and your underwear just enough to pull out your cock. Damn. Your cock is so beautiful to me. My empty pussy clenches again. I lick and kiss you from root to tip. I take your balls into my mouth and suck gently. I lift my hands but you order me to hold them behind my back. I kiss and suck on your head. I draw you into my mouth. It’s fucking heaven. You let me just go for awhile, sucking, licking, worshipping your cock. Finally you grab my hair and take charge, thrusting into my mouth and throat. I struggle valiantly. I hear your moans and it’s the most wonderful sound in the world. My pussy is the Pacific Ocean at this point. You pull out and order me to open my mouth and stick out my tongue. You cum into my mouth, on my tongue, on my face, on my breasts, on my hard nipples. I swallow what I can. You order me to clean you up and I do, using my tongue to lap up the remaining cum from your cock. “Not bad. We’ll work on it.” I stare up at you in utter disbelief. You laugh. “God, there’s nothing sexier than your angry face covered in cum.” I think you actually want me to kill you. You laugh again. “What does a good bitch say when she’s allowed to suck cock?” (Silence) “Thank you, Sir.” That beautiful hand in my hair. At once tender and cruel. Promising everything and nothing at all. Another rush of arousal onto my thighs. “Good girl.” And so it began. |
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What delight you are you would be so much fun to have around a real keeper. I think you would be great to explore with and an eager participant. Keep up the good work love it
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