Nia was waiting. Malik’s flight landed 10 minutes ago, but she still hadn’t heard from him. It was probably nothing, but Nia’s brain didn’t work that way. Nia was already down the rabbit hole. What if he had changed his mind? No. He wouldn’t do that. What if there was something wrong with the plane? What if he was trapped? Fuck. Fuck. She kicked her feet back and forth, trying to expel some of her nervous energy. She needed to calm down. She was wound so tight from anticipation and worry that she could hardly breathe.
She heard his voice in her mind “Breathe, Nia. In. Out.” He still grounded her.
It had been years. Years since she heard those words in his voice. Since she felt the sting of his belt. The savageness of his cock. The intensity of his kisses. The pull of his leash. Until 4 months ago.
She took a deep breath and pulled the memories around her like a safety blanket.
It had started with a text. Nothing big, just that he was going to be in town for a wedding. They’d texted back and forth, reconnecting.. Really it seemed like an old friendship. Then he called…and his voice brought it all back.
Their chemistry. Their connection. Their dynamic.
Timing had never been on their side after he had given her a brief, but exhilirating introduction into the kinky world of bondage and pain. He had been the one to show her who she was, the one who had revealed her submissive… and the one who let her go when she needed to grow beyond him.
But things were different now. She knew who she was and what she needed, and the more they talked, the more she realized she needed him. And he had always known he needed her. Always.
She knew when she said yes to seeing him that they were going to dive deep. He knew it too. There was no other way with them. It was one of the reasons that they had not kept in contact after they both committed to someone else. It was how they remained faithful despite their undeniable pull towards one another.
“Are you sure?” He had asked during the last phone call.
“Yes, Daddy.” She said, wanting him to know how sure she was. Her voice quivered as she said it, matching the contraction of her core at the sound of his groan.
“Fuck. Well then. Be a good Babygirl and wear a short skirt. I want our first scene to be meaningful, and there is no way I am going to last that long the first time.”
That morning she had followed instructions, had even worn knee highs and sneakers under the skirt the way she used to before a specific kind of scene.
The sneakers were a reminder. He had bought them for her when she embraced her little for the first time.
The knee highs were a ritual. Their ritual. He would leave a pair out for her when he wanted to go out and have a little fun. Sometimes they were nylon, sometimes socks, sometimes fishnets, depending on his mood.
No matter which pair was laid out for her, the anticipation made her drip… but fishnets meant rough, meant I need to fuck you in your soul and today she had chosen them because that matched her mood.
A text interrupted her thoughts. His phone had died mid-flight and because of turbulence he wasn’t able to grab his external battery. Another text came in…
“I will be there in less than 10 minutes. I know how you worry. I am here, and I am sorry for not being better prepared.”
She took another deep breath… but it turned into a sigh instead.
Relief had boiled over and washed away the memories, but they were never that far away…
He was always too far away.
Years. Four Months. 10 Minutes. When would it be now?
Deep, dark skin, beautiful bald head with a confident, determined gait, until he saw her. She watched him falter as he took her in. His gaze started at the bottom and went to the top; from the sneakers to the fishnets to the skater style black dress with pink unicorns all over it. By the time he met her eyes it was the unmistakable look of MINE. He broke out into a smile when YOURS was reflected back at him. He took 4 large steps and sealed their fate with a kiss.
It was not a public, airport environment kind of kiss. It had been too damn long, and he was going to kiss her proper. Malik held Nia’s face steady with his hand, drowning everything out. He started softly, slowly, teasingly. He wouldn’t let her move forward. He built it up until she whined. He moved his tongue forward, licking at her lips, and letting her know it was time. She opened up and let him in. She gave it all over to him… because he’d always had it anyway.
He acknowledged her by moving his fingers from her face to the back of her neck, applying just enough pressure to mimic his hold, but not enough to alert a crowd to more than an inappropriate kiss. He pressed a little harder, so she could imagine him choking her.
Her neck had always been her submissive trigger, and she felt something release inside of her. She began to tear up. Began to panic because of the overwhelming emotions of being who she was now, with who she belonged with. He noticed the shift and changed his grip, began lightly scratching her neck.
“It’s okay, Babygirl. I’ve got you. Daddy will always have you.” He whispered into her ear.
Even after all these years, he knew her so well. Malik led them to baggage claim, holding Nia close against him the entire time. Anchoring her as they made their way to the bus stop.
As they waited, he began stroking her leg, running his fingers up the material. She shivered. She couldn’t help but start feeling that familiar tingle. She licked her lips in anticipation as she imagined being home and taking his cock into her mouth. Instead she just rubbed it teasingly, looking up at him and smiling.
‘You evil girl.’ He said as the bus pulled up.
‘Always.’ She answered with a mischievous grin, as they boarded.
As soon as they were seated he looked at her as he moved his hand towards her legs. Her eyes blown wide, she nodded.
‘Always.’ She answered with a mischievous grin, as they boarded.
As soon as they were seated he let his hand slip under her skirt and came in contact with her cunt, realizing she had left her panties at home. He smirked and his tongue caressed the words she had been waiting to see him say.
She was a good girl because she had followed Rule #1 without being commanded. He knew she was still his good girl, because she wasn’t wearing any panties under a skirt when out with Daddy.
As he touched her, she let out a deep, guttural moan in anticipation. There wasn’t anyone in the seats near them, but they knew they had to stop or they would be arrested for doing dark deeds in public. Not that they hadn’t done that before. But it was much too easy to get caught on a public bus, and consent for all involved was important to both of them.
He teasingly touched her one last time, and then they spent the rest of the trip talking. The haze of sex was still there, but it was reassuring how quickly they slipped into comfort and conversation.
But when they got back to her apartment, the time for talking was through.
They crossed the threshold of the door, and entered their dynamic.
“You know what to do, good girl.” He said.
Nia kneeled. She demured her eyes, and placed her hand crossed in her lap.
Malik lifted her face with his fingers. He smiled. He helped her up. He looked her in the eyes… and then pinned her against the wall by her neck.
She gasped. She moaned. She begged with her eyes. He let her go, and she sunk to her knees again. She put her nose against him, she took him in. She nibbled a bit on the outside of his pants. She made eye contact so he could see the desire, the need, the service within her.
She unbuckled his belt, unbuttoned his pants, and pulled down, revealing his cock. It was still as beautiful as she remembered, and so. hard. Nia sighed contentedly and looked back up at him as she slowly licked the tip. She ran her tongue over the vein. She sucked on the head. She savored him. The taste of familiarity. Of safety. Of home. He groaned deep, and she felt it deeper.
She’d barely enveloped him into her mouth before he stepped back, slipped out with a pop, reached down and dragged her up to him, kissing her, tasting himself on her. The co-mingling of him and her tasted of familiarity. Of safety. Of home. She groaned deep, and he felt it deeper.
“I can’t wait anymore, Babygirl. I want to devour you, I want to touch every part of you, I want to make you cum so many times… but I can’t wait anymore.”
“I know. I know. Yes. Please, Daddy, I need you inside of me. Don’t make me wait anymore.” She begged.
He lifted her up against the wall and entered her. She came. The anticipation, the wind up, the emotions, the everything came tumbling out in a scream. It loosened the tears that she had been keeping at bay all day.
He fucked her through it. He kissed her. He whispered to her.
The drag of him was just the right kind of painful. His lips on hers, slippery from kissing through tears, was just the right kind of softness. His words were just the right kind of reassuring and dirty. She ended one orgasm and went directly into another. Tears shifting to laughter.
He laughed with her as he moved harder. He was close, so she wrapped her legs around him tighter, squeezed herself tighter onto him, and begged him for his cum.
He had been wrong earlier about not lasting long, he was going to last longer than anyone else ever had. But first there was rest, and food, and cuddling, and that meaningful scene he had promised, and lots of visits, and a cross-continental move, and a public ceremony.
Later he would remind her that he owned her in a way that nobody else ever could by slipping her collar back on. He had kept it for the entire time they were apart, and an entire year after that day in the airport.
He had called to her with his hope and reminded her of who they were, even after all of those years apart. He had been patient as they rebuilt, required them to get to know each other and their dynamic all over again so that it had a strong foundation. He had been the ultimate role model of patience.
Nia was on top of Malik. He had commanded her to ride him, slowly. He wanted to watch her.
He controlled the tempo. He made her speed up, slow down, bounce. He put his hand around her throat and moved her. Gripped her bottom and pushed and pulled her.
He held eye contact. It was intense, connective, it felt… meaningful.
“You own me, Kitten. As much as I own you. More.”
stormborns
origamiaround
romaincrisis
gracieabrams
vaporwave
theartofmadeline
