My submission is a way for me to be led to places I cannot go by myself. Sometimes harsh, sometimes hidden, but always sensual; intense and yet not violent. For me, it is consensual non-consent, and the one who fathoms this knows just how far, and even further, I need to go. .
There was a pleasant ache to the start of his days, now. It had been a good idea to institute the new rule. Before, he had often awakened with an erection of his own accord; but now, he always woke in his plaything’s mouth.
He kept his eyes closed for a long moment, savoring the warmth and the fervency of her tongue. She was allowed to put the pillow between her legs as soon as she crawled onto his bed from her mat on the floor. She just wasn’t allowed to start moving her hips against it. Not until he looked at her.
The sound of her oral attentions was perhaps a little exaggerated. He knew she found it humiliating, the noises her mouth made when she was working him; he also knew that she got a little louder when she was trying to wake him up. He let the corners of his mouth curl in a faint smile, still feigning something like sleep. She noticed. The frustrated moan from the vicinity of his waist gave him a satisfying thrill.
At long last, he opened one eye and looked down to where her dark hair gleamed in the morning light. She made eye contact and somehow, despite already being fully engaged in urgent fellatio, managed to blush. She averted her gaze, as was only proper for a mastered little thing. But she also began to hump, now that she had tacit permission, that pretty round ass jiggling deliciously with every movement.
He reached down to stroke her head fondly. “How long has it been now,” he mused, his voice thick with sleep, “since we made you an oral-only girl?”
She whimpered. They both knew had been twenty-six days of denial; she was probably tracking it down to the minute. She’d agreed to no penetration, no orgasms, and not even an edge until—this was the important part—the end of the month.
The end of the month.
The arrangement had been incredibly effective for her conditioning. She had once been overly cautious with her mouth, prone to hesitation and second-guessing herself. None of that hindered her now. She serviced him with a focus and will that verged on the frantic; it was adorable how much motivation these precious minutes of pillow-friction instilled in her.
He tugged playfully at her hair and enjoyed her answering whine. “Mmm. Maybe not long enough. I think this arrangement is only improving as it goes on, don’t you agree?” The low breathiness in his voice made her clench with longing. “I have to admit… I thought I’d miss your other holes. But why would I ever go back to them when this one gets better every day?”
She nearly sobbed at that. But she didn’t pause; in fact, she redoubled her efforts. She took him to the hilt three times for every buck of her hips now. His body responded, and he felt himself start to tighten in anticipation.
“I’m going to let you finish me soon,” he said, with a groan under his words. “Switch to your hands, please. You may have the time until I finish to express your gratitude.”
She lifted her head, gasping; her fingers had wrapped around his throbbing length before her lips had left his crown. “Thank you thank you thank you thankyou,” she panted, her fingers tight and blurring with well-trained quickness. “I’m s-so grateful that you let me give you pleasure, but—”
“Now,” he grunted, pushing himself up off the bed, and she bent herself instantly to take him back down her throat as he came.
He finished with a growl that was faintly animal, but the sounds she made as she tasted him were feral. She nearly choked herself on him, but never let up, as her thighs squeezed hard against the pillow with each shot she swallowed.
It took him time to come back to himself. When he did, she still had her lips sealed tight around him. She never seemed ready to let go at first. As if she were clinging to him, hanging on until the brief respite at the eye of her storm of desire.
“What a wonderful toy you’ve become,” he said, heaving a sigh of bliss, “I think it’s for the best that we never said which month.”
She shuddered. There were tears at the corners of her eyes. He touched one with his finger, brought it to his lips, and savored the taste of her nearly perfect need.
(this is a switch up from the usual and shared from a dom’s pov with full writing credits to @doctortease for this story which has genuinely made me very wet lol)
One of our last days in France. Sunny and warm. Wearing a very short sundress. I am going out shortly to walk along the harbour, let the breeze blow my skirt, it will be fine. I'll feel the breeze on my bare pussy, because I am feeling in need of that sensual caress, no panties. Sit in one of the cafes, by myself, sunglasses on, with a book. Crossing an uncrossing my legs. Strappy sandals.
But most of all, I will be feeling my pussy the whole time. That erotic undercurrent with me all the time.
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