honestly need more of harry in his dom space but like mean ?
YOU GOT IT DUDE
Some night are for staying at home and snuggling between the covers, using each other’s body warmth to ease into sleep, and some nights are for going out to a party with your jealous boyfriend who’s got his jaw clenched and blazing eyes following your every movement.
And maybe tonight was the night to choose the first option, however now it’s far too late, as Harry’s already cleared his schedule for the night and filled in the spots with torture for his girl.
Her wrists are aching from the position Harry’s tied them in, crossed over each other, resting just over the swell of her bum. Her thighs are parted, chest and face flat against the bed with her ass in the air, probably the most she’s been exposed to her boyfriend who happens to be messily rummaging through his pockets to empty them before he wiggles out of his jeans. Her breathing is light, her voice shot from trying to explain that the boy she was conversing with was not flirting with her and that she knew her limits, but the hard edge in Harry’s voice when telling her to “shut up” was enough to make her clamp her lips together.
It’s a danger zone for her. In the brief minutes that Harry has binded her and thrown her over his bed, he’s not spoken a single word that wasn’t an order. He has a steady hand on her thigh, occasionally drumming his fingers against her skin to remind her he’s still there and watching her to make sure she doesn’t step a toe out of line. There’s something different about the way he caresses her skin, and the way he addresses her only by her name. He’s feeling extra dominant tonight, which is pretty expected do to the way he’d been glaring at her the entire time they’d been at that party.
That stupid, putrid, mistake of a party. In her mind, she’s swearing at that man who touched her shoulder and amusedly pulled her back towards him when she tried to remove herself from the uncomfortable proximity of the two, not to mention Harry’s burning eyes were causing guilt to settle in the pits of her stomach. She holds it together though, knowing Harry will strike her bum again if she lets out a sound.
“Test them,” Harry finally orders, removing his hands from her. She struggles momentarily in her restraining binds consisting of his scarves to prove to him that there’s indeed no way for her to get out. Her heart sinks a little more when he reaches over and tightens the knots, the rough movement forcing a small squeak to tumble out of her lips.
His hand comes down almost immediately down on her ass, striking her so deliciously and hard.
“Quiet,” he grits, palming over the area he’s hit. “The one time I ask you to shut up, you can’t even do it.”
She wants to apologize, but she knows better, instead holding her tongue. She offers him a weak nod instead, but he doesn’t see it, as he’s turned around, removing his shirt from his torso. She liked his outfit for tonight, a nice pink collared shirt tucked into his black dress pants with his usual chelsea boots. He looked good. Scrumptious, like a strawberry treat. Maybe he would have given her something else besides harsh looks and heavy hands on her bum, maybe something like soft kisses. He’s chosen to have gone clean shaven these past few days, which means her hands are always around his neck and jaw area, feeling the baby soft skin. She wonders if she’ll be allowed to touch him like that tonight.
“Dunno what I wanna do with you yet,” Harry says with a sigh, hitting his hand against the side of his belt that’s now looped twice. “Wanna try something new with you, but I don’t know if you’ll enjoy it or not.” He pauses and taps her thigh with his belt and she gasps. “It is a punishment so I don’t want you to enjoy it, but I know you’ll manage to find a way.”
She wants to give him a snarky reply, but she bites her lip. Ever since she’s gotten him riled up, he hasn’t addressed her with an endeared name, or even her own name actually. She just seems like an object to him, and if she weren’t so aroused and excited, she would have rolled her eyes and defied him, but this new Harry was setting her on fire. A good fire.
“Should probably leave you like this,” he muses, chuckling darkly. “Reckon you’d hate that, huh?”
The thought of being left alone after becoming this vulnerable to him is appalling. She wants him to touch her already and use her in very way he can think of. But as soon as the coldness from the distance between the pair hits her, it’s too much. Its overwhelming, and it’s like he’s really left.
“H, please,” she whispers sadly. “Don’t leave.”
Harry ignores her. “Seems like a fitting punishment. Effective.”
“I’ll be upset,” she tries to reason, sniffling.
“As upset as you’ve made me? Thought I taught you better. How many times have I punished you for this already?” he scoffs, rolling his eyes.
“I’m sorry,” she says back with a heartbreaking whimper. If Harry were in his normal headspace, usually this is enough to bait him and bring him back to reality. He’d have her untied and had her in his lap, listening to her apology before letting her sink down to her knees and offer him a blowie, but he doesn’t budge, letting her know how deep in his domspace he was. “I’m sorry, Harry.”
“You’re sorry,” he hums thoughtfully, walking over to the side of their bed, opening a drawer, He rummages through and pulls out a long strip of condoms, breaking one off. He gets louder with every word, making her nearly cower. “You’re sorry, but you’re still dripping on m’sheets. You’re sorry but you’re not trying to stop your punishment. You’re aware you deserve it.”
“I do,” she breathes, closing her eyes. “I do, I really do.”
“Good girl.” There’s a sense of pridefulness in his voice, something that’s there only because he’s happy about how she’s giving in. His job as a dominant has somewhat paid off.
That’s his weakness, that’s how to break him out of his domspace trance. To remind him how good he is at his job of taking care of her and correcting her with the appropriate ways he disciplines. They balance each other out. She just needs to submit a little more so he could come back to his normal self.
The two words help her relax, but she tenses up again when she hears the crinkle of the condom’s foil being discarded, and then Harry’s back on the bed, knees in between her calves. His weight startles her and she wants to grab onto him for balance, but he reaches out to hold her hips, steadying her. “Harry, I…”
“Quiet!” he growls, roughly pulling her arms back, grabbing a hold of the pretty scarf that he’s bound her in. “Not a word.”
He enters her slowly, much too slow for her satisfaction, but the groan he releases as he fills her up inch by inch shows how he doesn’t care about it, since it feels exceptional for him. He sinks in slowly, eyes squeezed closed, letting himself rest heavily inside of her for a few beats. It’s weird not listening to him rave about how amazing she feels, how tight and warm she is for him. His fingers tighten around the thickness of the scarf, muttering something under his breath, something like, “gonna fuck out all m’anger,” and then the punishment really begins.
Harry knows what he’s playing at. He knows that no punishment would be as effective and as severe than not allowing his girl to look and him or touch him or make any noise. It’s the worst type of treatment he gives her.
It makes her want to cry, and it’s nothing new when Harry smugly watches two cute little teardrops stain the bed sheet underneath her. He’s refusing to touch her, rocking into her with the scarf as leverage, and not her thighs as he usually does when he’s taking her from behind.
“Nice and tight,” he spits out. He’s only talking about her wet hole. “Always so ready for me.”
She squeaks as he suddenly withdraws himself and then fills her up roughly to the hilt, her hands grabbing onto the pillow besides her. Harry groans, wrapping the scarf around his knuckles as he’s practically hauling her back to meet his thrusts. It’s hard to keep her up with him, but he manages to maintain a smooth rhythm, the sound of his thighs slapping against hers and his manly grunts are all they can hear. It’s the quietest they’ve ever fucked, because she’s got her lips sucked into her mouth, swallowing every noise before it escapes.
“Doesn’t feel good does it? When you’re not getting what you want,” he says tightly, snaking an arm around her to the front of her thighs, pulling them back up so she’s in the right position. “Doesn’t feel good that you don’t get to mark up daddy or, shit, run your hands through his hair, give ‘em a good tug huh?”
She shakes her head, letting out a strangled moan when he smacks her thighs open, muttering something about how she needs to stay in the position he’s particularly tied her in. The moan doesn’t reach Harry’s ears, as the embarrassing wet sounds that their bodies are creating fill between the walls.
His hands are back on the scarves, wrapped around his knuckle like a leash. His own noises are getting louder and more needier, driving himself closer and closer to his high. She’s so perfectly tight and inviting, practically sucking him back in whenever he thrusts, throwing his head back in ecstasy. He has so much power over her, it’s exhilarating, the blood rushing through her ears, knowing he controls her release and her pleasure. It’s better than any drug.
She experimentally clenches around him, wondering if that’ll make him loosen up a little and at least wipe her cloudy eyes. She wants to turn her head and tell him she’s learning her lesson and that touching him is literally like air to her. She wants to hear him praise her and kiss her dimpled back and nuzzle into her neck, breathing in her scent, but Harry only continues to pound into her, letting out animal-like groans. He’s so far gone, and she doesn’t have to look at him to know that.
He twitches once inside of her before he stills himself, taking a few deep breaths, holding the base of his prick with only his tip in her cunt. She clenches around him again with hopefulness, whining when he presses his body forward, balls deep, basking in her warmth.
“Doin’ alright?” he mumbles quietly, waiting only a few seconds for her nod, before he snaps back into her. “Feelin’ sorry?”
She nods again, letting out a short sob that has him moaning aloud, and finally his hands touch her back, caressing the area. “Talk.”
“I’m so sorry,” she cries out, hiccupping between words. “I’m so s-sorry, was so bad, just want you to forgive me daddy, please just…I’m sorry, sorry, sorry.”
He hums appreciatively and placing his index finger in his mouth, wetting it before reaching between her legs and tapping her most sensitive nub, drawing circles around it. “Think I should let you cum?”
There’s only two ways this question could go for her, all depending on her answer. She could say yes and probably get further punished, maybe sent to the guest room to sleep, but answering ‘no’ could only get him to consider not letting her orgasm.
“I-I don’t know!” she whimpers, writhing underneath him as he slowly fucks into her. “S’up to you. Anything you want, please daddy, deserve it all.”
That’s the correct answer, so he continues his movements, a little rougher. The pitiful sob that follows after makes his heart melt, just the slightest, and he rubs her back softly with his free hand. “’Course it’s what I want. He lets her make any noise she’d like to because she’s beginning to understand. He rams himself in, listening to her moan and whine and beg for more, because nothing gets him off, especially in his domspace, as much as her helpless noises.
“M’good girl.”
Finally, empties himself into the rubber with a thick groan, fingers digging into her skin, head thrown back. He’s breathing raggedly, swallowing, licking his lips, leaning down to press kisses to her thighs, dragging his tongue just close enough to her weeping hole. She’s quivering, needy and ready to experience the high he’s just hit, but one final smack to her arse and the feeling of Harry’s fingers untying her hands is enough to make her eyes widen.
He patiently waits until her breathing is somewhat normal, not wanting to jostle her too much. She’s still his number one priority, much more important in his domspace too.
She’s flipped over, eyes landing on Harry for the first time, and the sight of him so fucked out makes her eyes well with tears again. He rubs her wrists, slightly frowning at the pink mark the tight scarves have left behind. His lips touch the area once, just briefly, before he tends to himself.
She watches curiously as he discards the used condom and then breaks one more off the strip that’s hanging from the bedside drawer.
“Harry, what are you going to…”
He shuts her up with a crushing kiss to her mouth, one hand wrapped around her neck pushing her further into the bed. Then, he stands up and fixes his hair messily, wiping the corners of his own mouth.
“Want you in the shower in two minutes. Get up.”
He’s not done with her yet.