Reality had slipped away, and I was floating. Where? I don't know. All I knew was that Terry took me there.
“That's not good enough, mama. I wanna hear you say all of it,” Terry hissed into the side of my neck.
He pulled his fingers out of me slowly, leaving me with an achingly empty feeling. I grabbed his hand and held it between my legs. Too scared of him stopping, too scared for this to end. I sobbed at the feeling.
“You gone say what I asked you to?” he asked, kissing my lips.
“Yes. Please don't stop. I need you,” I cried, letting go of his hand.
“I need you, too, baby. Just tell me what I wanna hear,” he urged, pushing his fingers back in.
My pussy clenched around his fingers, sucking them in deeper. I moaned out as Terry slowly stroked against my g-spot.
“I-I'm enough. I'm enough. Ughh… I'm enough. Fuck… I'm enough. Ter-. Cum…,” I whined into his shoulder. The weight of his body on top of me was all the reassurance I needed to know that I wasn't going anywhere.
As much as I craved the feeling of his dick inside me, the intimacy in this moment was unmatched. Having affirmations pulled out of me like chants during a ritual was nothing short of life-changing.
“That's right, mama. You're enough for me. You always were,” he spoke sweetly.
His hands caressed the length of my body, molding the flesh like an artist sculpting his life's greatest work— his magnum opus. The power in his hands was both soft as a feather yet firm, acting on pure conviction and passion to show me how loved I was.
All I could do was allow myself the release— a stream filled with every emotion built over the last few weeks— the anger, resentment, guilt, sadness, and disgust. All of it poured out of me like a fountain. It was clear to me that this was where those feelings had come to die. Spilled in this bed because of Terry's hands. I was again becoming a woman anew, shedding the emotional baggage that life told me I had to carry.
“Hey, mama. You hear me?” Terry asked, bringing me back into reality.
“Mhmm. I… uh… yes,” I stuttered.
“You ready, baby?” he questioned, looking between us.
I slowly followed his gaze to the small gap where our hips joined. Terry's hand was guiding his dick towards the opening of my pussy.
I looked up to find those green eyes staring into my soul. His other hand rested on the back of my thigh, letting me know that he was ready.
The word yes became trapped in my throat and my voice cracked as soon as I opened my mouth. I settled for a nod and silently prayed it would be a good enough answer.
A soft smile spread across Terry's face, reaching his eyes. Eyes that I couldn't help but notice were once again gleaming and bright. My heart smiled at the sight.
“Please,” I said, letting my gaze drop again.
Using nothing but his body weight, Terry entered me with ease. The room was immediately filled with the sound of our coupled grunts and moans. Both of us were enthralled by the feeling of our bodies connecting again.
“Damn, I missed you. I really… uh… did,” Terry moaned into the air as his head fell back.
“I…,” I stammered, losing myself in the fullness of him inside me.
“You don't have to say a word. Just relax. I got you,” he said, thrusting slowly.
Stroke after stroke pushed me closer to the edge. There was nothing I could do but once again take it.
My hands found a home on Terry's chest, rubbing the smooth skin. It was as if my hands were searching for something— anything. I wrapped both arms around his shoulders as he fell forward. Flattening his body on top of mine, he braced himself using his arms. An action that led to him sinking deeper.
This was a connection I'll never be able to explain, and Terry made sure of it. Every stroke was intentional, and every moan served a purpose.
We were creating our own symphony of love. A combination of sounds and actions fueled by a burning desire that teetered on the edge of an unholy amount of worship.
Thrust after thrust.
Stroke after stroke.
Moan after moan.
Repeat.
No words were said. They, for the first time, had no purpose. There was no reason to speak because our bodies were doing the talking.
My arms grew heavy and slipped from around his shoulders. Falling to the bed like weights, I let them rest above my head.
Unbeknownst to me, my eyes had been closed, and I didn't even know for how long. My senses were heightened, and my entire body was sensitive. But somehow… I was feeling everything and nothing at all.
Terry's eyes locked onto mine as his hands slowly reached above me to meet mine. His hands wrapped around both of my wrists, pressing them down into the bed. I squirmed under him as his hips ground deeper. Trying my hardest to find a sense of control, I wrapped my legs around his waist.
“Terry…,” I whined, letting my eyes close again.
“I know, baby. I know,” he said, sucking on my neck with the perfect amount of pressure. I gasped silently as I was overwhelmed by the sensation.
His breath was hot and heavy, and his breathing had grown labored. His hand slipped from around my wrists as his moans turned to heavy pants. He was close, and so was I. In a perfect world, we would cum together, but I knew he was much closer than I was.
Opening my eyes to see the most beautiful sight above me, Terry's large frame surrounded by a halo of bluish-white moonlight. His rich brown skin glistened with sweat. The smooth texture only added to the ambiance of his complexion. Beads of sweat cascaded down the lines of his muscles falling onto me and the bed. It was crazy to think that all of this was mine.
God, what did I do to deserve this?
Gazing down between us and watching him make love to…
Make love…
We were making love? How could I not see this? How did I miss the signs? The intensity of the intimacy, the sensuality of the intention, the softness of the connection, and the lack of eagerness.
Before I could stop myself, a small sob escaped my lips. Terry's eyes opened and settled on my face. His eyes were fixated on mine. The intensity of his gaze was brimming with admiration.
“Let it out, mama,” he said, leaning down to softly kiss my lips.
His hips pushed forward, pressing me deeper into the mattress. His head fell back again, but his eyes still peered down to watch me. Hands planted on either side of my head, his strokes grew deeper and slower. Bringing my hands to his waist and wrapping my legs around him even tighter, I used all of the energy I had left to pull him in.
“Fuck… ‘Va-…,” Terry stammered, losing himself.
“I know, honey. Now, you just let it out,” I whispered.
Terry's hips drew back one final time and plunged forward with force. His jaw dropped, and his shoulders went slack. Those green eyes fluttered closed. Ropes of his hot cum painted my insides.
As if my body was awaiting his finish, my pussy clenched around his still throbbing dick with a tenacity of passion resembling anger but motivated by adoration, devotion, and love. A surge of my own essence poured from me like a faucet.
“Ahhh, fuck. Damn you, ‘Vana!” he moaned into the air with a slight chuckle.
“Terry!” I yelled, forcing him deeper as my legs locked around his waist.
I couldn't let go if I tried. My body was frozen in bliss. My breathing turned to rhythmic pants as I crashed from my high. Terry's lip began attacking my neck, softening the fall. My legs plummeted to the bed, and my arms crashed to my sides. Exhausted was an understatement.
“Th-thank you,” I huffed out barely above a whisper.
“Don't thank me. I'm just giving you what you deserve,” he said.
A/N: Remember, I'm open to critiques. I am a little 🤏🏽 sensitive about my writing. Please, don't be too harsh.🥺 Feel free to bring my attention to any typos. Divider by ME (theereina). Also, this work is not to be plagiarized or reposted (on any site other than here on Tumblr). I do NOT give consent for any form of republishing or rewriting.
Flurries of Valentine's candy grams and foil balloons filled Patrice's 3rd-period senior AP English classroom as she ran through a reflection question on August Wilson's Fences. While February was set aside for love, it was also the one time Mrs. Richmond was allowed to discuss Black literature in the school year without pushback from administration and parents alike.
Just as pencils hit the paper to answer why Friday nights were significant for the play's central characters, a short beep and static filled the intercom system in the classroom.
"Ms. Ellis -"
"It's Richmond," the class sang in chorus, earning a smile from Patrice.
The voice on the other end chuckled before course-correcting. "Mrs. Richmond, we have a delivery in the front office for you. Do you want to come get it or send a student?"
"Uh, I'll send someone down," Patrice answered. She pointed at her most responsible senior and silently directed him to grab the hall pass. "Can you say what it is? I didn't order anything."
"Sorry. We're under strict instructions not to spoil the surprise."
Terry. She didn't need additional explanation to figure out who'd taken time from their day to send a gift and request silence from strangers. He was cool as a cucumber when he left for work in the morning, but the uncharacteristic lilt in his voice on the way to a place he frequently expressed disdain towards was a dead giveaway he'd be dropping their promise to skip gifts and enjoy a quiet evening.
Pregnancy and all its financial planning meant no money in reserves. No honeymoon, no big trips, and nothing extravagant for holidays. An unfortunate byproduct of looming parenthood on a modest income, but Patrice had made her peace with it all. They'd get the time back when Baby Richmond was old enough to spend a few days with their parents.
Anticipation collided with excitement as a bouquet of snowdrops and roses eclipsing her student's head was wheeled around the corner. Only her husband would commit seasonal flowers to memory from an offhanded conversation about rotating seeds in her garden for the spring. Whoever he'd paid to expertly arrange her winter staples into such a stunning display deserved their fair share of coins and then some.
'Treece, Will you be mine?' scribbled in Terry's signature handwriting sat above a QR code on a small white card, eager for Patrice's attention once she got her hands around the ornate vase.
"Mrs. Richmond got a valentiiine," one student teased to draw laughter from everyone in the room.
That she did. It was her first in years and the one she'd longed for the whole time. She couldn't hide her smile when she took the final few minutes of reflection time to scan the code and watch her phone screen light up with another message after eagerly tapping the 'yes' option.
"Merci, mon amour. I still owe you a honeymoon. I hope tonight will keep you excited until we get to touch Paris with our own two feet. See you soon. Je t'aime."
A goofy grin pressed past the neutral facade Patrice tried to maintain while butterflies fluttered inside her belly. Light jeering from students awaiting instruction and any piece of their favorite teacher's business she was willing to pass down only pushed her growing smile further across her face.
Patrice read the message one more time for the road and clasped her hands together. "Alright! If we have some thought-provoking responses today, everybody gets their lowest grade dropped. Deal?"
Long after his wife had made agreements with a cohort of 17 and 18-year-olds, Terry stood in their quaint kitchen, carefully placing beignets in the oven to keep warm. For all his exhaustive research into easy Parisian dishes to replicate at home, he knew his limits and how to circumnavigate the one thing Patrice specifically desired to taste in Paris. He searched high and low for the perfect dupe, drove nearly an hour away, almost fell behind in the cooking process, and still didn't regret going out of his way for the perfectly golden French donuts.
Steak awaiting its introduction to a sizzling pan rested near wrapped cowboy butter from Terry's father and a bowl of cut fries floating in ice-cold water. Oil popped as it reached its target cooking temperature. A bottle of non-alcoholic wine sat in a bucket flanked by the good dishes Patrice reserved for special occasions and another seasonal bouquet. In the living room, Marvin Gaye's 'I Want You' spun 'round and 'round on Patrice's old vinyl player, filling the house with some of Terry's favorite tracks. Candles lit strategically cast shadows on the walls for an added level of romance. The live stream of the Eiffel Tower taking over their wall-mounted TV looked out of place, but Terry wasn't willing to part with the silly addition meant to add realism to the night.
Terry's humming kept his mind on track in a whirlwind of pans and dwindling time. The night had to be perfect. After years of wasted time and missed opportunities, he owed Patrice his best effort in their inaugural celebration.
A car door slamming shut just as piping hot homemade frites were freed from the frying process made Terry's eyes flicker up to the wall clock to check the time. Finally, she was home. Work and responsibilities had already sucked up too much of her time. He planned to take up what was left with his undivided attention.
After dusting his hands on a dish towel, Terry stepped out of the kitchen to meet the love of his life at the living room's threshold.
Her grin, full of mirth and crafted solely for his pleasure, made his stomach turn a flip. He leaned against the wooden frame, watching her hang her coat on the hoot. "Hé, ma belle."
"Wow. He's fine as all hell and speaks French? I'm a lucky girl." Patrice's compliment came with arms outstretched to wrap around Terry's neck. Strong hands pulled her close until his nose was pressed to pulse at her neck. She giggled into his ear. "Hi, Pooh Bear. Happy Valentine's Day. Thank you for my gift."
Terry murmured into Patrice's neck. "Of course. Happy Valentine's Day, baby." He squeezed her sides before pulling back to kiss her forehead. "You like your flowers?"
"I did. They're beautiful. Who taught you about snowdrops and QR codes, old man?" Her lighthearted jab came with long, slender fingers gently stroking his chest overtop his fresh black t-shirt.
"The QR code came from the annoying ass Wyatt. Felt like I should get something out of always having to hear him talk shit about the Panthers." Terry took hold of Patrice's hand to drop kisses on her knuckles. "The flower knowledge came from this really pretty girl I know from way back. You think she'd be cool with havin' dinner with me tonight?"
Patrice felt herself returning to the shy girl of her youth. "She'd love to. Can she have a minute to clean up?"
"Take all the time you need. Dinner will be ready when you come out."
Two lingering kisses on her lips and a two-hand squeeze on her backside sent Patrice squealing around the corner and into the bedroom while Terry set off to finish preparing the night's meal.
Wafts of Terry's cologne intertwined with Patrice's perfume in the bathroom's humidity, caught in a tango while she stood in front of the mirror trying to tame bags beneath tired eyes with concealer. Excitement coursed through her veins like her first date with the man of her dreams was on the other side of another light layer of perfectly pink blush. She couldn't fix her hair, dab lip gloss on her full lips, or slide on the floor-length lounge dress she purchased fast enough. Every second spent outside of Terry's presence felt like torture until she was sauntering into the kitchen to find him awaiting her arrival at the kitchen table.
A low whistle passed through slightly pursed lips. "Sometimes I still can't believe you chose me," Terry started, his hand outstretched for Patrice to grab hold. "Come here. Let me see you up close."
Patrice took slow steps forward to revel in Terry's attention, loving the way he seemed to see nothing else in the room but her. No flaws, no rising insecurities – only the most perfect version of the girl he fell in love with before love truly had meaning.
"If you spend all night looking at me, we're gonna waste your baby letting me keep food down all week. I need those beignets in the oven," she joked as soon as she was close enough for him to grab.
With her hand in his, Terry helped Patrice spin in a slow circle, drinking in every inch of her body before stopping to pull her into his lap. "I can't hide anything from your mommy. You gave her a super nose." His words came in a soft, silly voice he almost couldn't control as he rubbed the slight pudge of Patrice's belly. "This dinner is very special, champ. Let us enjoy tonight, okay?"
"All of it, you hear? Your daddy brought Paris to us, and I will eat this steak whether you like it. Well done and all!"
Baby Richmond had no objections to well-done steak and crispy frites, even fighting for more of their father's rare cooking as conversation meandered between the day's happenings and the type of mushy romantic back and forth that sounded almost too cheesy to be true. Terry and Patrice ate, drank, and traveled down memory lane until their stomachs ached and their eyes were misty from laughter.
Things I Love About Terry. Terry smiled as he scrolled through the digital scrapbook Patrice crafted to get around their gifting rule. Reason #8 was his favorite: I love when we kiss, and he doesn't want to pull away. It reminds me of our first one every time.
He chuckled. "That's cute that you still remember that. It's also cute that you think this doesn't count as a gift."
"No! We had a no paid gift rule. I didn't spend money on it. Which you broke first, by the way."
"Flowers are not a gift. They come with the service." Terry listened to Patrice regard his Boondocks callback with a mumbled 'whatever' and smiled before locking his phone. "But, since free gifts don't count, I have something for you."
Patrice danced in her seat, preparing for another sweet treat to satisfy her cravings. "Is it a turnover? I hope it's a turnover."
"You're pushing it, Treece. Don't make me tell your business at the next appointment."
"Snitch."
Terry shook his head at her mumbled insult while he dug behind containers of protein powder in the one cupboard she had never opened for the gift he'd been holding since the day things bloomed, burned, and resurrected between them.
If not for his mother's antsy mind getting the better of her earlier in the week, Terry would've never uncovered the gem hidden in his childhood bedroom's closet. The weathered outer cover had long been scrubbed free of any identifiable marker of its contents, but page after page of dated ramblings reminded him of all the lofty goals he'd written as a teen. Dreams of a booming NFL career and a utopian society concocted from a naive mind littered each page.
He flipped and laughed for several minutes until he reached the entry coincidentally dated for his 16th birthday. Imagine you've jumped 10 years into the future and are writing a letter to your current self. What might your life look like? Talk about your career, family, and any additional details you desire.
The "love letter," as his father called the two-page plan for his next decade of life. Terry had gone to great lengths to hide it after Marvin's teasing, guarding the speckled notebook with his life and tossing it into his closet once the schoolyear ended to rid himself of the embarrassment. He never expected to live out much of the wishful thinking penned on the withering, yellow pages of yesteryear, much less share them with the subject of his affection then and now.
Patrice watched Terry slide the open notebook across the table with a quizzical look, glancing down at half-legible chicken scratch and then back up at her husband. "What's this?"
"It's history," he answered plainly with a secretive smile. He slid into his seat and pointed at the notebook. "Can you read that to me?"
More questions bounced behind Patrice's eyes, but she saved them all to fulfil Terry's wish with no pushback. Blinking the blur from old contact lenses, she started from the top.
"Hey Past Terry. It's you from the future. I know you have a bunch of questions, but I'm only going to answer the important ones. You'll just have to figure out the rest on your own. It wouldn't be as fun if I gave you all the answers. To start, your life is completely different. You haven't won a championship yet, but you're close. You'll get there soon, and when you do, it'll be the biggest story on ESPN. You'll get to watch all the talk in your big house in California that overlooks the beach. It's nice. You get to go down there every day during the offseason." Patrice smiled and looked up at Terry. "We both owe Young Terry at least a weekend at the beach."
Terry's half smile grew wider. "We'll do Hilton Head before the baby comes. Keep readin’.”
"Damn, the cure to cancer must be in here," Patrice joked before continuing.
"California is a great place to raise a family. You don't have any kids yet, but you and your wife are thinking about it. I don't want to spoil who it is, but at some point, you'll try to get her to stop working…again. It doesn't matter how much you try to convince her, she still wants to work because she's good at her job. She's good at everything. So, give up and let her do what she wants."
Patrice still hadn't connected the dots as she looked back up at Terry and smirked. "Well, sorry to whoever that lady is. Maybe in another lifetime."
"Yeah," he laughed before Patrice moved to the next paragraph. "Maybe."
"Not to get too mushy, but we really love her. It's not like the silly, made-up love in movies. It's the love mom and dad have. The kind where you laugh and joke all the time. She's still stubborn, but you know how to talk to her better, so you argue a lot less. At least about the serious stuff. That's the cool part about marrying your best friend. You know each other for a long time and things just make sense because they always have when she's around."
Patrice wished she could blame the catch in her throat and the sting of tears at her waterline on pregnancy hormones and not the rush of sudden realization once she looked up at Terry. "Oh, Terrence. That's me." she sniffled, trying to catch stray droplets before they hit the page and distorted the next lines.
"When you win on Sunday and Monday nights, she's always on the sidelines to tell you that you played a good game, except when you don't. Then she gets all sassy like she used to in school. She still doesn't like football all that much, but she shows up anyway in your jersey. It's dope."
"Some of that held up," Terry chimed in, half-joking as he reached across the table for Patrice's free hand. "You still don't like football, and don't hold back if I'm fucking up."
She laughed and shrugged. "At least I'm consistent."
Consistent, his greatest support system, the most complete love he'd ever known – Terry could go down the list rattling off Patrice's best attributes and contributions but preferred to let her read the most intense thoughts his limited teenaged mind could concoct in a 15-minute journal entry.
"I'm probably not supposed to tell you the truth, but I don't know if all of this will come true. I'm not asking you to do all that, even though having all that money would be super cool! Just make sure you're happy. Be happy and marry your best friend as soon as you think she'll say yes. I'll be pretty mad if you don't do that. Hopefully, you'll be writing a letter to me soon. I wanna know if it all panned out."
Thirty-plus-year-old Terry considered writing back to his younger self many times. Once, after basic training when the anguish of a newly broken heart and being ripped away from the comforts of home brought with it what he later came to know as a deep depression. Then again, on his 26th birthday, for continuity's sake. The third time, he'd typed his way through four pages of explanation, needing to level set with a past version of himself regarding all the ways he'd come up short but planned to make good on all his promises. He couldn't bring himself to continue when he reread three days worth of incoherent thoughts. Not without all the pieces to the puzzle. Now, though, with a rock on his best friend's ring finger and happiness permeating every layer of his being, he could think of more than a few things to write about.
"A lot of my life was never part of the plan," Terry started once Patrice had read off the letter's final goodbye. "I wasn't supposed to be a Marine or still live in Fayetteville past my 18th birthday. I'm damn sure if that version of me were around, he'd be fuckin' pissed we haven't seen the ocean in over 20 years," he laughed along with Patrice as she pushed water droplets off her round cheeks. "But, baby, you have always been the goal. Even when I was stupid and far away. I need you to know that."
Sure, Patrice understood the words from his lips and the fact that they were some of the sweetest sentiments she'd ever had directed in her favor. Grasping Terry's love, enduring for over a decade in all its staggering depth and complexity, was something totally different – something she'd spend lifetimes trying to unpack.
Still, she allowed her legs to carry her and their unborn child around the table to sit in her second favorite seat, just to feel his warmth radiate across her skin. "I know." Soft lips connected for a sweet kiss their younger selves would blush at if they were present. Patrice cupped Terry's face in her hands. "Thank you for loving me the way you always have, babe. When you write back to that version of yourself, I hope you tell him how much I love being by your side. I loved you then, and I love you even more now. Make sure you tell him that, okay? Tell him he wasn't the only one excited about marrying their best friend one day."
"I'll let him know." A partial truth. He'd eventually get around to trying out the journal his mother had gifted him years ago and unleashing years of updates onto lined pages. He owed 2009 Terry a rundown of what his life had become.
But Terry couldn't tell such a young, impressionable mind about how they explored each other like professionals deep into the night. He couldn't share how her skin still felt like premium silk against his all these years later. Or how he couldn't stop himself from wanting to be inside her. One time wasn't enough. Twice couldn't come close. He needed her until he was a panting, weak mess. And even when he felt like he couldn't go anymore, hearing Patrice call his name for one last time energized him enough to push the thought of fatigue to the back of his mind.
With her head hanging off the right edge of the bed and looking up at him expectantly, Terry leaned down to kiss her plump, swollen lips. "After this, we're getting ready for bed, okay?"
"Yes, sir." Though sweet as pie, the glint in Patrice's dark eyes communicated the final decision was all hers. They were done when she was done.
Her fingers danced up her torso, taking a short pitstop at nipples saluting their favorite person to twist and pull before taking hold of her prize for the night. Terry jerked forward as he watched her under heavy lids. He'd get to his end of the bargain in a few. Watching her slide his leaking tip across her pursed lips was the main attraction. She hummed to herself, satisfied with the small mess she'd made across her mouth, before welcoming him inside her throat.
Terry caressed her cheek, using his thumb to clean up wayward saliva. "Two taps when you need a break. One when you want to stop."
Patrice took in the instructions and discarded them just as quickly. His care was endearing, but she didn't wait over a decade for their first Valentine's Day together to take a break. Breathing through her nose, she took him in inch by inch, stroking the back of his thighs lovingly while he hissed and moaned his way through shallow strokes.
Modified 69 needed two to make the experience complete. Blinking back into the present, Terry reached across the comforter to grab the fully charged purple stimulator, waiting to jump into the fun. His rough palms rubbed a soothing path across her belly, stopping to appreciate the gentle slope on his way to the warmth between her thighs.
"Keep 'em open for me, pretty," he murmured, more focused on the clear strings of arousal connecting his fingers to her clit. He pulled them back to savor her taste for the umpteenth time. A light smack against her pussy produced a needy moan that sounded like music to his ears.
Rhythmic suction on both ends of the spectrum kept them loud enough to wake the neighborhood. The depths of Patrice's throat were always a welcomed home for him. Wet and sloppy head the way he liked it kept Terry grinding the vibrator against her clit to feel the vibration of her moans against him. As much as they wanted to go forever, this type of pleasure would ensure forever didn't last too long.
Saliva pooled at the corners of Patrice's lips. Glistening arousal from being edged over and over with her small but mighty little friend created a puddle on the towel beneath her behind. She cried for relief Terry wasn't willing to grant. He wanted a photo finish – something to make their first Valentine's fuck worth it. He pulled the toy away and slowly slid himself out of her mouth, earning a small mewl in disappointment.
He grinned down at her before gripping her chin. "Tongue out for me, Piggy." Patrice did as she was told, receiving her favorite form of payment in return. Spit kept them tethered to each other in a lewd display of affection until she had all she could handle. "You ready?"
"Mhmm," she hummed, nodding despite the ache in her neck.
Casting the toy aside and bracing himself on the bed, Terry resolved to let himself go and give Patrice what she really wanted. Methodical strokes to elicit gags and gargles sexy enough to make any man combust filled the room while he fucked her face silly. A fantasy turned into a reality. She held herself steady by his thighs, pressing crescents into the flesh as the bed rocked beneath her. Time turned into an outdated, meaningless concept second to receiving and giving pleasure in her world.
"Fuck," Terry whispered to the ceiling with his eyes clamped shut. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry, I'm about to –"
Patrice wanted to tell him he had nothing to be sorry for. He'd given her sweet gestures, affirming words, and absolute filth in equal measure. She felt like she should've been thanking him instead. Her only regret was being deprived of seeing the look on his face when he crossed the finish line and drained himself on her chin and throat with a shuddering moan he didn't have time to be embarrassed about. Terry's hands pumped at his shaft until he was spent and gasping for breath, leaving Patrice to run her hands up and down his hips for comfort.
But one was not two, and she still deserved her happy ending. Terry's trembling fingers regained enough strength to grab the still buzzing helper and press it against Patrice's clit, not letting up as her hips jolted off the bed and her thighs tried to close.
He held one leg against the mattress and pulled his lip beneath his top row of teeth to remain focus.
She called his name for mercy, but the plea went unanswered. "Terrence!" Still nothing. Only the maniacal flash of lust in his eyes greeted her. "Oh my – ooooh! It's too much! It's too much."
It wasn't enough. Not until her body seized and heavy breathing turned into silent gasps. Patrice gripped him tight as she used all her strength to prop up on her elbows and take part in the water show unfolding beneath her. Two firsts in one night.
"That's my girl," Terry praised without letting up. "That's my good girl. You see what you doin'?"
"Yes!" Patrice shouted, unable to stop her body from reacting.
Terry bent at the waist to kiss the top of her head. "Breathe, Treecey. Don't hold it in."
In through your nose, out through your mouth. The words became muffled in Patrice's ears, only gaining clarity when the ringing ceased and her breathing evened. She leaned against Terry's chest to smile up at him, covered in his essence, finally satisfied. "I look insane, huh?"
Terry plucked at a stray lash extension and chuckled. "You look beautiful. My pretty baby." He kissed her forehead. "Always have been. Mean it."
His. In sickness and in health. For rich or for poor. On Valentine's Day or a random Wednesday afternoon. Terry, in all his life's stages and every universe, Patrice Ellis Richmond was known to him as one word: mine.
*There is a poll at the end of this. I tried to keep this update short.*
Pairing: Tre x Fiance!Black!Fem!/ Plus Size reader
Warnings: 18+, Minors DNI, You are in charge of your own reading experience. Intentional use of AAVE. FLUFF. Minor D/s elements, dumbass reader, power imbalance, Tre is a boss, all consensual.
Summary: After a year long engagement and gathering all the ideas, it's high time to actually start making decisions. The last thing you want to do. You ask Tre how involved he wants to be in the planning process.
Word Count: 1,335k
A/N: It's about time these two got married! I'm over the moon for this update. I think this is the first time I've revisted a couple for an update like this. Bear with me for any mistakes. Toss a coin to your blogger by leaving a comment, gif, or unhinged ask.
“It’s time,” you said, walking into Tre’s home office. He looked up from his computer and smiled at you, showing off that perfect smile. True to form, he wore a black long-sleeved shirt and black lounge pants.
He watched as you lugged your thick binder into the office and slammed it onto his desk. In it, you had collected every single wedding idea you could think of over the past year. Your romance had been fraught with tension as you came to grips with sleeping with your boss, being in love with your boss, and dealing with raggedy ass Miss Headband.
After all of that, you had to finally put a toe down and explain to Tre that you were still a girl. You wanted all the dates and planned trips and spontaneous presents. Tre stepped up to the plate and then some. If you weren’t already about to marry this man, you’d marry this man!
“The wedding is getting closer, we have the venue on the farm, but it’s time for the tiny details. I need to know now if you want to be included in it, or if you want to take the hands off approach,” you said. You collected everything in a binder because truth be told, you were overwhelmed as hell.
Your friends, Ka’ron and Sasha, had been a godsend with helping you with the big things. Like the venue spot, photographer, the guestlist, etc. But the more important details had you so overwhelmed, you threw ideas in a binder for a later date.
That later date was fast approaching. In a minute, you would stand at the altar in a white lingerie set, Tre in a black suit, and no decorations. Your wedding would be a disaster. Tre would never truly let that happen, but…he hadn’t shown much interest the past year. He followed your lead, letting you make most of the decisions which was the last fucking thing you wanted.
However…you didn’t want to push him to do this with you if he didn’t really want to. Most girls dreamt of their wedding and planning with their significant other, but there was nothing typical about Tre.
Tre sat back in his chair and looked between you and the binder. A smug smile curved his lips and you waited…and waited. You fidgeted as you stood there, letting your mind run with all kinds of possible avenues.
Tre stood up and walked around the short desk to stand behind you. He slipped his hands around your waist and pulled you closer, kissing your neck. “Do you honestly think I would let you do this alone?”
You sighed in relief. Thank god. You giggled and tilted your head to give him better access to your neck. “You can be such a guy sometimes, how am I supposed to know?”
“Ain’t you supposed to know your husband?” He asked. He placed lazy kisses along your skin, raising goosebumps wherever his lips landed. Your entire body melted, all the tension releasing, as he hummed in your ear.
“We’re not married yet, Sir,” you said. You closed your eyes, melting further and further.
“We can go down to the courthouse right now,” he said. “I don’t need a whole to-do to call you my wife.”
You playfully elbowed him. You turned around in his arms and placed your hands around his neck. Distracted by how sexy your man was, you couldn’t resist stealing a kiss. Or two. Or four. You grinned and sighed.
“We’re doing this right,” you said.
“We’re doing this once. So I want this to be everything you want,” he said.
“I want it to be everything we want. This is one of those huge milestones we’ll remember when we’re 70. It should be something we both want,” you said. It got easier day by day to rein in Tre’s more impulsive tendencies. There were still some things you were working on, but Tre had unlimited patience when it came to you.
“Then sign me up for all of it. Cake tasting, wine pairing, those little mason jars on the table,” he said.
You giggled and slapped at his shoulder. “No! No mason jars!” You turned around in his arms but Tre wasn’t willing to let you go just yet. He kept his hands around your waist and pulled your back against his chest.
He nibbled on your neck while you dragged the binder closer to you. You flipped it open and fabric swatches, card samples, and flower petals slipped out from their respective places, but that was okay. You knew this thing backwards and forwards by now.
You tried to keep things reasonable. You’ve gotten better about spending his money – okay, your money – but a huge, expensive wedding was never really in the cards for you. You’d much rather have an extended honeymoon where you were flipped over every surface in the hotel room. Or beach. Or balcony. Or wherever else Tre decided to bend you over.
You moaned softly as Tre licked just under your ear. “You’re so distracting. I don’t know if I should go over everything with you.” Were you really prepared to sit underneath him and not knock all this shit over to suck him off or fuck his brains out? Seeing him be all domestic would kill you.
“You try to leave me out of this and that punishment will be worse than Labor Day,” Tre whispered seductively against your skin.
He removed himself and sat in the chair in front of his desk, leaving you a sputtering mess as flashbacks to Labor Day scrambled your brain. A goofy grin spread across your face as Tre flipped through your binder.
He pulled you by the hand to sit in his lap rather than sitting in the other chair. He shuffled in the seat until he could spread his legs and sit you comfortably on his knee. You squeaked as you got pulled and yanked around. He could be such a bear sometimes.
He adjusted his glasses as he flipped through all your ideas. A flush of embarrassment made the tips of your ears burn. There was just…so much. You probably should have edited before you brought it to Tre.
“Okay, the way I organized it…”
“Color palettes and theme first, cake ideas and flavors next, bridesmaid and groomsmen coordinations, favors and gift bags, and vendors list,” Tre said, listing out the order of the binder.
You gasped and turned towards him. He kept his eyes on the pages, flipping through them carefully. “How did you know?” You asked.
You had absently talked to him as you put the binder together, but you hadn’t mentioned any details. Nothing on organization, nothing of the ideas you picked out, none of it. Tre had offered to pay for a wedding planner, but you wanted to be grown up about one thing in your life. If you couldn’t organize this damn wedding, how could you be a good wife?
You knew one didn’t have anything to do with the other. But you felt as you felt. And it blew your mind that Tre even entertained your chaotic mind.
Tre finally looked up at you and pecked your lips. “I take the occasional look after you’ve eliminated choices or added others. You sure we can’t have an all black wedding?” He asked.
You giggled because you knew he was dead serious about that. “No! We can have an all black wedding anniversary, how does that sound?” You asked.
Tre playfully pouted before he nodded. “I’ll take it. So, I’m not feeling these choices for the color palette,” he said. He carefully removed pages of the binder, dropping your choices from twelve to six.
You went back and forth over which four choices made the final cut. You made arguments for each one, listening to his objections, and finding compromises. Left with the final four choices, you looked at your fiance and smiled.
“Well, well. Which one we going with?” You asked.
Which palette for the wedding?
Option 1
Option 2
Option 3
Option 4
Voting ended onFeb 13, 2025
Want to know how these crazy kids got together? Start the wild Mr. Black series that will become a book one day!
.chapter warnings: This entire part is CNC. If you are not comfortable with that as a kink please do NOT engage with the material. Another large kink warning for this chapter is that Terry is a Sexual Sadist his pleasure isn't coming from the act of p in v sex. This part is about his pleasure specifically and his kinks. Nami benefits yes, I guess you could say, but Terry stands ten toes on "you're here for my pleasure".
🟡 🟢 🔴 ⚫
.word count: 8k
Kinks explored: CNC, Anal, Shibari, Spanking, Choking, Primal Play, Sexual Sadism, Sensory Deprivation, Dacryphilia. Somnophilia. Terry is very chatty.
.summary.: It wasn't anything Nami did to make Terry so curt with her and nothing she did could change his mood or his plans.
Everything was pissing Terry off. He watched Nami busy herself around his kitchen. Everything. Her yellow dress wasn't right. He didn't like the straps and how they crossed in the back. He wanted her naked and he knew if he told her she would strip down for him. Yet, he didn't want that. Curling his hands into a fist he almost missed Nami walking over with a smile with their early dinner. He'd asked for the same dish she cooked two weeks ago he praised, though now he stared at the bowl of grilled chicken and roasted vegetables, pissed off.
"Is everything okay?"
Nami had notice his mood was off the moment he called her over. He did want to spend time with her. That wasn't the issue. Terry's eyes flickered up to Nami and then back to his plate.
"I'm not hungry anymore."
"Oh,' she says, slightly disappointed. “Okay, I’ll put this alway then.”
He said nothing and she took the plate back to the stove. She found containers and stored his food in the fridge before cleaning his plate. Terry could see the unease in her tense body.
"I think Daddy has been too nice to you." He paused. "And Sir, well, he may need some correction as well."
The words fell on Nami like ice cold water. She didn't know what to say but she didn't like the tone of voice he was using. It was different. Off kilter and she immediately knew who wasn't here with her. Daddy had been shelved and Sir took a vacation.
"You know what I do adore about you Nami is your auditory perception skills." He praised, but it was more of a back handed compliment from these new lips. "It keeps you one step ahead of me and I don't like that."
"I'm not trying to be ahead of you." What she should call him still was unspoken so the air around them tingled in silence for a few seconds.
"I'm sure you aren't."
She could hear the chair scrape the floor as he stood up. She resumed packing away the rest of the meal she had thought they would enjoy together. She felt like he was still standing there so she continued. Only pausing when she was finished, eyes focused on his lips instead of his eyes.
His posture was surprisingly relaxed. However, his arms were folded across his chest. His expression was unamused, lips pursed, and his eyes downcast. She realized he was sucking his teeth with a tight jaw, the gesture so unlike him.
"But you are and that needs to be rectified. Don't you think?" He asked.
Her 'yes' would be admitting to his statement and they both knew that. Any answer would admit it. She knew not to say 'no' because why would she lie? Nami's shoulders slumped forward slightly and she looked down at the floor. She saw his feet approach. A clean man she knew his feet were neat like his fingers. They stopped in front of her and his scent filled her nose. Smoke. Terry smelled like heavy smoke and it confused her. He always smelled clean or neutral. This scent was artificial and heavy. Intentional. Distorting. Distracting.
"I-'
She loved his hands. She had to remember that, but when he grabbed her jaw and squeeze, Nami whimpered in pain. He tilted her head up so they made eye contact. His fingers dug into her skin so tightly she could feel him pressing against the bones in her jaw.
"You need to look at me when you speak. That's basic respect."
He let her go and when she began to lower her head he pushed it back up, smacking the bottom of her chin roughly. Her teeth smacked together and her eyes began to water.
"Don't cry. I haven't done anything worth that yet."
Terry leaned down until they were eye level. Nami, overwhelmed, lifted her hands as if was going to push him away. Ever perceptive, her Dom grabbed her by the wrists and yanked the behind her back. Holding them there in annoyance.
"You've never come that closing to knowingly putting your hands on me. Don't make that mistake. Not tonight." He looked into her brown eyes with a glint in his own. Mischief spread through him and his lip curled upwards on one side. "You have a few minutes to let me know what you're feeling right now. Afterwards, I'm doing a refresher."
Nami held still in his grip, her shoulders beginning to ache as he pushed upwards on her arms. They were folded across her back, but the added push kept them rigid. She winced when she tried to adjust and felt his grip tighten.
"What's your name?" She whispered.
Terry hummed. "Are you smart, Nami?" He replied. "Because I asked you to tell me how you're feeling and here you are asking me a question."
Nami looked away from him. She didn't know how to navigate this situation. Being this close to him she noticed the scent of smoke grew thicker. Focusing on that she did begin to feel a little fear.
"You're setting a dangerous precedent that you don't give a fuck about your feelings. I accept that. So I won't care either." He let out a disappointed sigh. "I'm being mean,' he says, lowering his gaze to her, "let's do this in a way you are familiar with, shall we?"
Terry turned around and moved to the dining table. He turned around one of the chairs and plopped down into it, a smile on his thick lips.
"Come."
Nami took a step and froze when he snapped his fingers. "Nah, on your knees."
"What?" She spoke, the word falling off her lips, accidently.
"Excuse me?"
Nami's eyes widened as she covered her mouth with her hands. "I'm sor-'
"Shut up and do what I said. That's the apology.."
He could see her hesitation and if he wasn't pushing her boundaries what was the point? She was a little lamb, standing in his kitchen, and he was the wolf. He was ready to hunt.
"I don't want to come get you, Nami." Terry scratched at his jaw. "You know the only way out of this."
"I don't want out." She whispered.
Terry clasped his hand together and leaned back in the seat. His legs spread and he made himself look inviting, though the expression on his face was hard. Nami sucked in a deep breath and as she lowered to her knees she let it out. She couldn't see him over the island that separated them, so she used the few seconds to collect herself. The floor was cold under her hands, as she moved one leg and hand at a time. She had her head back, knowing if she came around the corner with her head down, he'd say something. Or in his mood, do something.
As she crawled around the island, she saw Terry glanced down at her. He didn't move, but his eyes followed her as she crawled towards to him. When she was closer enough, Terry wrapped a hand around her curls, twisting them into a makeshift pony tail he used to pull her up.
"You're going to hate me by the end of the night,' he speaks slowly, his hips rising from the chair while he pushes down his sweats. "Too bad I won't give a damn."
His dick springs free, semi-erect as he shimmies the sweats around his ankles. Nami's mouth opens instinctively, and he obliges. Guiding her head closer, he pushed the tip past her tongue, finding home int he back of her throat. Nami blinked through the gagging sensation, her hands bracing to the floor as his grip slackened. Terry slid closer to the edge of the chair, letting her stay on her hands nad knees with his dick pushed down her throat.
"We're about to go through your rules for today."
Nami nodded, slurping sounds filled his ear as she willed herself to remain still. Terry pushed her head further down his shaft, stopping when her nose brushed his lower abdomen. He hummed and reached between them to pinch her nose. Nami's eyes shot up to him and he met her gaze, a wink followed before he released her. He watched her struggle to breath around his dick, choking and blubbering messily as she regained control of her ragged breaths.
"The first,' he says, patting the top of her head, "you do not speak. You do not make a sound. I could be fucking you into oblivious and I better not hear it." He flicked her nose, a threat to pinch it again, and smiled when she inclined her head away from his touch. "How can you hear me if you're making all that noise?"
Nami wanted to give a sound of agreement, but she waited.
"Oh, see, that's selective listening." He ran his thumb around her lips, collecting some of the spit that had seeped out. "I want you active."
Terry removed her from his dick, thick spit and drool flooded from her mouth and he used his hand to wipe it all over her face.
"Eyes on me,' he snaps, tilting her chin up. "Two, if you want to stop then you need to use the safe word. Do you remember it?"
Nami nodded.
"Do you want to use it now?"
Nami shook her head.
"I'm not going to be gentle. I don't even care if you cum tonight."
His hand is slowly stroking his dick, the tip pressed to her lips as he talks. Pre-cum leaks over her lips but she keeps them closed.
"Three, follow my instructions."
Nami watches him stand up, his dick flush in her face. He stepped around her and yanked the dress off, tossing it somewhere in the living room.
"Crawl to the garage."
Nami bit back the urge to whine. Her throat was beginning to ache and so was her pussy. As she crawled, Terry followed her. When she was a few paces from the garage door he landed a smack to her left ass cheek. It popped loudly and Nami's knee gave out from the strike. A heavy hand wrapped around her ankle and dragged her back through the kitchen and to the dining table.
She couldn't hold back and the sudden strike to her skin made her scream. His hand hurt. The pressure he applied was tenfold. Terry rolled his eyes, and let out a breath through his nose.
"Go!"
He watched her crawl again, this time letting her hand wrap around the handle, before he hit her ass upwards, watching the recoil, the painful recoil. Nami pushed open the door, almost falling down the first stair into the basement.
Terry snatched her by the back of the head and brought her too her feet. "Ten."
He flips on the light and pushed Nami ahead of him. His hold on her hair tightening as she walks down the stairs. The room was cold. Along the walls were riding crops, shelves of toys, a basket of lube, and the St. Andrews cross bolted to the wall piqued her interest. There was a bed, but she was pushed to the floor in front of it. Her familiar yellow cuffs were already hooked to the bed. Terry sat in a chair he pulled from a side wall. Fluidly, he tosses Nami over his lap. He raises his hand and swings down, smacking her right ass cheek twice.
"Acknowledge by holding up the right number of fingers."
Her arm flew out as she flashed him two fingers. One of them she wanted to flash by itself.
"You only had three rules. Easy,' he hissed, "and you broke one so quickly."
Nami's played back the interaction a few moments ago. She crawled. Her body sagged into his legs.
Crawl to the garage. That was it. She opened the fucking door.
Terry finished her punishment quickly. She was disoriented each time he asked for the count, but when he go to ten, she threw her hands up as high as they would go. Her ass wasn't the only thing burning. Terry had landed hits to the backs of her thighs as well. He pushed her off his lap and stood as she dropped to the floor.
45. The submissive wants to feel used.
She knew he was going to go through that list of kinks, but she didn't know if she wanted Terry to be the one to do them. She didn't want out, but her body was screaming bitch run.
"Are you ready to play?"
She could hear chains and rattling. From the floor, she pushed to sit on her knees, and watched him. Colorful thick ropes dangled from his hands as he approached her naked form. Terry lowered on his haunches in front of her and his pursed lips looked inviting, but she knew better than to lean forward and seek him out.
"I hope I won't spend the rest of the night putting my hands on you."
He tipped her chin up with a finger. Again, Nami shook her head, still reeling from the previous spanking.
"We're going to take this at a reasonable pace." He showed her the yellow ropes. "Hands."
Nami clasped her hands together and held them out. The yellow rope was wrapped around them snugly. In his other hand was the end of a pully system that he connected the rope to. He stood and hooked the pulley back into the wall. There was a tug on the ropes as he tested he tension. Beside him was a table where he pulled a black eye mask from the drawer. It slammed shut and his silence began to unnerve her. She needed to hear his voice. It was fitted over her eyes.
Darkness flooded her eyes. Unable to see him she didn't know where he was in the room. His scent was still smoky and heavy, this time laced with an urgency she could practically feel. She tried to listen, hear where he was, but was betrayed by the brown noise he started to play over speakers. The static sound didn't soothe her anticipation, it added to the cacophony of anxiety she felt.
The pulley suddenly began to tug and Nami followed her arms as they were lifted above her head. When she was on her feet the pulley continued, lifting her to the tips of her toes before it stopped. She dangled there, barley touching the ground while trying to position her arms to they didn't lock up.
A hand flattened against her stomach and she was pushed backwards. She swung a few inches as she pulled on the pulley to some stability. As she regain her position a rope was thrown around her stomach and tied. She couldn't make out the pattern, but she felt three knots going down her belly. His breathing was soft and she could feel his breath fanning against her face. Terry kissed her as he tested the tightness of the knots. He bit her bottom lip, sucking it into his mouth as he pulled away.
A heavy hand landed on her knee and pushed it towards her stomach. There was another rope, binding her leg to her thigh. It left her on one foot and she could feel the cool air between her legs, the dampness she had been trying to stifle had reared its ugly ass betraying head. His hand dipped between her thighs as he admired his work.
"You should see how good you look."
He circled her, his hand dragging over her sensitive skin. The ropes pressed into her. The snug binding provided the touch she was craving for a brief moment.
"Fine ass." He breathed into her ear. "It's a shame what I have planned for it."
She wanted him to act.
He pulled her back against his chest. His hand crept down her stomach, dangerously close to her sex. Swatting her ass, Terry resumed being distant. She could hear ropes as they fell to the floor. A third was hooked into the knots on her stomach and she felt it being raised. Secured, Terry bought her other leg up to her chest and bound it the same as the other. The elevated open frog pose split open her slit and his greedy eyes fell to the way she was beginning to drip. He knew he was on the right track, but like her, he liked to fuck shit up too.
He walked to the pulley on the wall that held her hands up and released it. The tension slackened so quickly that Nami anticipated falling to the ground. However, the impact never came. She had instinctively clenched her eyes shut. The blindfold reminded her she was visonless when she opened her eyes.
Dangling from the ceiling, she was at his mercy.
"I know you don't remember the order of kinks on the list I gave you. But I am sure you are familiar with this one, baby."
Terry came to stand in front of her. He placed his hands on her hips and she had learned quickly how menacing his hands could be. From giving out pleasure to swatting her ass into hell, they were becoming a terror to her temperament. When he stepped between her thighs, she could feel his bulge; firm, rigid, hard against her sex.
"Perfect."
He steps away from her and if only she could see the grin on his lips.
"Acknowledge with your hands." He ordered.
Leather.
Wet.
Stinging.
He struck her with a long black riding crop on her inner thighs. Nami jerked against the only rope holding her up and Terry landed a corrective swat to her side. She twisted away from the sting.
She held up one finger, a tremble in her hand as it dropped and dangled beside her. The pull on her stomach was uncomfortable. She felt like she was being split down the middle. The crop slid down between her breast, circled her nipples before it smacked them both. Her body tried to curl in on itself, but the rope restricted the movement.
Each his was harder than the last, she was whimpering, trying to keep the noise down, but he wasn't making it easier. It was like he was hitting her to make her make noise. He wanted her to break. He wanted to hear her, but between the pain and his unrelenting strikes to her body, Nami felt warm. She couldn't rub her thighs together, but her pussy betrayed her even further and began to leak and drip to the floor. She wasn't sure if he noticed, but she could feel her slickness sliding between her ass cheeks.
The crop landed between her legs, stroking her cunt and coating the leather in slick. He popped her a few times, laughing slightly as she hissed between her clenched teeth. She knew he was building up to something, but the what still thwarted her.
For Terry she was a blank canvas and the crop was his paint brush. He littered her body with hits, ignoring the way she curled way from him. It was a game then and he chased her. The crop became an extension of him and when he drew his hand back, to swat her ass for what he was sure the hundredth time, he heard it. Like her cunt, her face was leaking. Fresh tears rolled down her face as she began to grasp as the air around her for something to hold on to. She wasn't outright crying, but when he walked to stand by her head, he could see her lips trembling. Her body was betraying her. He was elated to see her reaction. It wasn't about enjoyment.
This wasn't her playtime.
Terry grabbed her head and pulled her up, the blood rushed down her body and she instantly felt loopy. He pulled off the blindfold, her red eyes brimmed with unshed tears.
Nami studied his face. He wasn't looking at her. He was looking through her. Terry's tongue flatted against her cheek as he licked her tears. The salty taste almost as good as what he knew her pussy tasted like. He let her go, watching her body swing towards the floor before it was caught by her restraints.
She doesn't remember how many time he hit her but when her body was lowered to the ground and she was turned on her stomach, she knew he had. Of course he had.
He came to a stop beside her, the crop hung at his side. His dick strained against his sweats and threatened to burst out. Not that she'd mind it. She'd much rather be choking on dick than her tears. She pressed her forehead into the floor only for it to be yanked up.
"You stopped counting after seven. You missed the last thirteen. I'll add it to your tab. I want you to feel it."
Terry cut the rope around her stomach and legs, though he didn't leave her unbound for long. She could hear another drawer opening and slamming shut as she laid on the floor.
His disregard for her was hurtful as if he didn't care about how she was feeling.
You're setting a dangerous precedent that you don't give a fuck about your feelings. I accept that. So I won't care either.
This time she was crying from his distance and not the physical distance. He wasn't here with her. She could usually read him and figure out how to lure softness from him. Terry had been keeping himself at a distance and only perused her body when he wanted to. She had been resistant to him the entire night, pushing back in hopes he would break, but the past few hours hadn't given her any reprieve. He just became rougher, testing her limits, and kept his emotions in check. He didn't seem to have any buttons to push and Nami whimpered into the floor.
The rope was black this time as he pushed her on her stomach. Her feet were bound together first and he lifted them. The ache in her thighs and legs magnified as they fell to the ground with a hard thud.
She saw a flash of yellow and a dress was tugged over her head. The blindfold was put back on and she was pulled up and over Terry's shoulder. His hands smacked the back of her thighs in jest. Mocking her for crying.
"Oh, baby,' he jeered, "Daddy making you cry?"
Nami felt the chill of the air as they stepped outside to his car. She noted the sunset, the various colors muddled together from the blindfold and the upside down position.
"It's good for you. I want you pleading for me to let up and while your begging me for a break, I'm going to keep breaking you." His finger dug into the flesh of her ass. "I'm going to make you mourn, baby."
A few beeps later and she was on her feet as Terry opened the trunk of the car.
"Let's go for a ride."
Nami lied in the trunk of Terry's car as he drove. He had given her a yellow dress, but between the blindfold and her tightly bound wrists, she didn't know what it looked liked. Each bump of the road jolted Nami around the trunk and she ended up on her stomach, her hogtied hands and feet up in the air.
Positional restraint asphyxia, he had explained while she dangled from his basement ceiling. On her stomach, the strain in her arms and the tight space made the trunk feel even smaller. Nami laid her head down, breathing in slowly through her nose. He had taped her mouth shut and with the blindfold, she could only hear and it was driving her insane. The car came to a sudden stop and Nami rolled to her side unintentionally. She could hear his door slamming shut and the shuffle of his boots on the ground as he approached the back of the car.
From the outside, Terry rubbed his gloved hand over the top of the trunk, patting it twice before it opened. Nami flinched from the sudden sound and she could hear Terry speaking. He unclipped her hands and feet before dragging her out of the car. He snatched off the blindfold and helped her stand up.
"Welcome to my playhouse,' he muttered, a grin slowly creeping on his lips.
Legs weak, Nami was pushed towards the large house. She looked around in the cover of night, eyes blurry, and saw a long path that led to the backyard. She could see tall bushes over the fence line. Terry dragged her up the steps, picking her up off her feet twice to get her up the stairs faster. There was no change in his breathing, no struggle, no pause.
"I did what you liked,' he said flippantly, "now we'll do what I like."
Had they done what she liked? Maybe she liked being tied, but the way he tied her wasn't what she would call fun. As her eyes began to adjust, she noted the darkness of the house. She stood in the foyer, the new surroundings heightening her anxiety for what was to come. He left her there and she looked around, taking only a few steps into the living room.
Terry was a man starved at this point. He tasted her sweet pussy and wanted more. He needed more from her but he wanted her leaking everywhere. He wanted to choke her full of his dick.
Like a lumberjack, Terry stalked into the living room dressed in all black. His outfit consisted of his tactical gear, a grin, heavy boots and he even had a pair in his hand. Nami stood there, the rope bruises decorated her arms and legs in red and yellow splotches, the yellow peasant dress covered just enough. As sheer at it was she might as well be naked. She much preferred that than to this. He knelt in front of her and helped her into the boots. His rough hands trailed up her legs and back down. His eyes were lustfull with pupils blown like he was on drugs.
He stood up and pointed towards the back yard.
"I want to see how good those skills are." He whispered in her ear. "I'm going to give you a two minute headstart. Hide from me and don't let me catch you."
He pushed her towards the back patio door. He told her nothing about the house. It was designed by a company who specialized in primal play. The entire house was a Dom's version of paradise. The unique feature Nami pushed the door open and ran into was a maze. It was around six feet high of thick bushes. It was artificial for safety as on each wall of the bushes was a kill switch to flatten them to the ground. It was dark and the ground lighting was few and far in between. She had just enough to see. It was cool, the air a bit chilly in the temperature controlled place. Nami's heart raced in her chest as she rounded corner after corner, looking for a hiding spot.
"Fuck,' she cursed, panting as she came to a halt at a dead end.
She turned around, managing to slip down another pathway that led towards a fountain. She had two options to pick from and as the blood rushed behind her ears her eyes darted between each choice.
“You’re so fucking loud, Nami, damn. You’re making this too easy.”
Terry strutted into the area just a few paces from where she stood.
“Come here.”
Nami took a step backwards. He shook her head, remembering the words he told her just five minutes ago. Don’t let me catch you.
Nami turned on her heels and bolted down one of the paths. It was darker and colder in this area and she realized he set different temperatures for certain paths. Her breathing became labored as the path came to an end. Nami slapped her hands over her mouth to muffle her panting. The bushes were moving. He was running. This time he was too close to turn and go back. She could hear his heavy boots as they smacked against the ground. Nami clenched her eyes shut as his boots stopped just on the other side of the bush. She could vaguely see his silhouette as he drew closer. His boot came into her line of sight first. Then his legs. In the dark she could barely make out his features.
“Found you,” he sings in a whisper.
Nami takes a step back, the bushes stopping her. Her dominant reached out for her and she shook, dodging his attempt to grab her. Terry loudly kissed his teeth.
“Don’t play with me.”
Nami wasn’t just going to let him catch her. If he wanted to play then she’d play. Nimble, she waited for him to grab her a second time. She lifted her hands and slipped out his grasp, using the momentum, she spun and put space between them.
"Nami."
He reached for her and curled his hand around her neck. He was standing to his full height, breathing heavy, and she dropped her weight, the sudden change causing his grip to slacken. She smacked his hand away and ducked under him.
“Nami,” he growled. “If I get my hands-”
She didn’t wait for him to finish that sentence. Instead she ran back down the path, stumbling and detouring to the left instead of the right. These pathways were shorter, less dead ends but more curves and cut away bushes. She slipped in and out of them, panting from frustration as it seemed like she was running in a circle.
Her chest burned as she tried to keep her breathing down. She didn’t want to make too much noise and alert him to where she was. She also couldn’t drag this chase out. He wasn’t going to let her get away so easily a third time. She could hear the frustration in his voice a few minutes ago.
I'm going to tear that ass up!
His voice echoed through the maze and she couldn't pinpoint where he was.
When I get my fucking hands on you!
Nami's head snapped up then she looked down where the lights were. His shadow stalked closer and she walked backwards. He as on the other side of the bushes, just within reach, but out of sight. Slapping her hands over her mouth, Nami tried stepping forward, but his shadow stopped. Surely, if she could see his, he could see hers.
"Oh, look at that,' he teased darkly, "there she is."
She pressed herself against the bushes opposite of where he stood. She side walked, hoping he couldn't see her moving.
"There's no way to get away from me." He tsks. "You go left, I'll see you. If you take the right, that makes it easier to catch you. And Nami,' he says, his voice lowering, "when I catch you." He breathed in and let out a low moan. "That pussy is mine."
The thrill of the chase was wearing down as his threat on her cunt was said. Though, her clit throbbed at the possibility of being touched again, but her thighs still stung from his earlier punishment. She knew this time would be worse. He planned to lay into her. The soft material of the dress rubbed roughly against her taut nipples. She was aroused in a way that scared her.
“Come on out.” He sung. “I won’t bite too hard.”
She had to go left. Nami kicked off the boots, they were heavy and she was much lighter on her bare feet. The thick white socks followed and she tossed them over the hedge she knew he'd look, even for a millisecond- so she B O L T E D. He was right, he would see her if she went left, but in her haste and only when she rounded the corner that she realized she ran past him. Her body flung to the left, nearly toppling to the ground as she skipped slash skidded around the corner. She was sweating at this point and she wiped her forehead with the back of her hands. Her curls were damp around her face and the pretty bow he shoved in her hair had unwoven and was half hanging on to a curl.
"This nigga,' Nami thought to herself.
The slight skin tingling feeling of fleeing Terry had ignited a fire in her lower belly. She dared herself and reached between her legs. Sticky. Wet.
"Can't believe it can you,' Terry says as he approaches. "This nigga what?" He asked.
Fuck.
"This game was supposed to have a much……easier endgame, but you like to fuck shit up right at the finish line."
He looked and pointed over her shoulder.
"This is the Cave." He explained. "All pathways lead here unless I lead you out." He pulled his phone from his pocket and she figured he opened an app that changed the lighting. "Sound proof, underground." He mused.
Nami's head snapped up. Underground? Sound proof? Terry watched her; the way her shoulder slumped forward, but he could see she was trying to remain engaged. She had no idea what she had agreed to and standing there she had no idea how she was making Terry feel. Bricked.
The chase had awakened a piece of him he reserved for work. For training other soldiers. For when he was in the field. She was a target. His two worlds clashing in a satisfactory way and he felt the dopamine release, his body tingling with his own thoughts of filth and hard debauchery.
He was on her in seconds, hands ripping the fabric of her dress. He pushed her backwards, the ground changing from a hard gym mat material to plush carpets and tile. The end of the maze was a bedroom, stocked with whatever the renter needed at the time. There was an ensuite as well. Terry grabbed at Nami; her waist, her hips, thighs, whatever he could as he kissed her. She was guided to the bed and pushed to the center of it. He shed the gear and she realized it was weighted. Beneath it, his shirt was drenched in sweat and she knew her body was as well. He covered her body with his own, his clothes ending up somewhere across the floor.
"I should be fucking you right now. But instead, you made a lot of noise tonight. You had the audacity to cum when I told you not too, and you touched my pussy. You. Touched. Me."
Naked, Terry knelt between her legs, his hands sliding around her waist. His tip brushed through her wet slit, bumping her clit with each upward stroke.
"I mean,' he grunted, pushing in just the tip, "I know I'm going to fuck you like I hate you." He sunk a few inches deeper, his thumb finding her clit easily. "I'm going to push you to the edge, then snatch you back."
Nami felt her mouth slide open, her jaw aching as he slid two fingers into her mouth. He pressed them to the back of her tongue as his hips moved slowly between her legs.
"I should be fucking you like this,' he hums, accentuated his words with shallow thrusts. "But you disobeyed me." He flashed her a toothy smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. "I'm bullshittin',' he joked.
"I was never going to fuck you like this."
Tired was an understatement. Nami's limbs were weak, her shoulders sore, his thighs ached, and her ass felt raw. Terry had laid into her like he said he would and he she was, counting out the slaps to her ass again.
33.
Thirty-three.
He added the thirteen from earlier and had been very intent on her counting each one of them.
Nami was positon on her hands and knees while he stood in front of her, pumping his dick in and out of her mouth. Her hands dug into the bed, gripping the sheets as he rode her face. The swell of her ass was read, fifteen hits later, and he broke off to fuck her throat. Her collar, which he had taken off prior to the start of all this, was replaced with a belt that was snug around her neck. The rest of the belt was curled around his hand as he pulled, listening to her gag and struggle to breath. He reached down, pinking her nose closed before shoving his dick across her tongue.
He pulled out and released her nose, the belt slacked and right before he struck her ass for the sixteenth time, he collected her spit and drool in his hand to use. Nami raised her hand, signing the number sixteen before her attention went back to the dick in her mouth.
"That's it,' he coos tauntingly, 'suck my dick."
Her head bobbed up and down as she looked up at him. His eyes were on her, focused, but didn't show any emotion or even pleasure.
"Such a good little slut." He crooned. "This is what you're here for,' he explained. "There you go,' swallow that shit,' he grunt, pushing into her mouth and holding her still again.
The tension on the belt was sure to leave marks, but Nami was beyond caring. There were no mirrors but when she looked at her wrists and saw the bruising, she knew her body matched. She was littered in red hand prints and rope bruises. She felt the him deep in her bones. Terry was unsettling. His voice lacked emotions. Though she understood the dick twitching in her mouth.
Terry pulled her of, his dick falling out of her mouth with a wet pop. her mouth was flooded with spit and precum and she pooled it in her mouth before pushing it out. Terry watched it stream to the bed, creating a puddle.
"Turn around, ass up."
The anal plug he had neglected shone as the light hit it. He'd been admiring it all night, watching the way it was sucked in each time she clenched. Placing a hand between her shoulders, he pushes Nami into the bed as his dick slipping through her wet slit.
He didn't ask if she was ready. His hips snapped forward and she almost slide across the bed. How could she want something and pull away from it at the same time. Her pussy was sore and swollen from his lack of attention. She was beyonce aroused.
She feel him grab the belt against and she's pulled backwards by it.
Ride it like hydraulics, I am such a tyrant….
One hand planted on her hip he kept her still as his thrust in-and-out while she clung to the bed on her knees. She clenched her teeth with each thrust, stomaching all nine and a half inches from the shallow thrusts. He didn't hold her for long. His hand resumed striking her ass. As if she could see him, she stretched her arm out, counting seventeen in sign language like she had when she reached ten earlier. He followed through with a few more strikes and she clenched around him. He pulled back on the belt and she gagged, tongue rolling out her mouth as she reached towards the belt.
"Oh?" He says, his hips snapping against her so roughly he could feel his balls slapping up against her clit. "Is this too much?"
He knew it was. Pushing her back down, he ditched the belt and held her hips. He pulled back to watch how his dick slipped in and out of her. Terry admire his own work. How he stretched her open, how he pulled more and more slit from her pussy, and how he was the cause of her drooling. The silence between them was loud, but couldn't get any louder than the sounds her pussy was making.
"Dick makes you act right, hm?" Terry slapped her ass twice, alternating cheeks. He brought her up, and pressed his chest to her back. "You should be doing that regardless. Nothing a little correction won't fix."
The loss of his dick had Nami searching for him again. She felt his hands as they flipped her onto her back. The bed was pulled from her neck and she reached up to touch the sore skin. Her throat was sore and when she had full control of her breathing, Nami turned on her side, erratically sucking in as much air as she could. Terry felt like a distant participant. As if the motions he was going through were robotic and disconnected from the relationship they had built. He put up a solid wall between them, encasing her in his world without letting her into his. This was more than a physical game. It was mental. He was in her head and it made her question her own reality.
Was she really at this man's mercy?
The anal plug, in it's cute silver and yellow design, was pulled from her ass and tossed beside her head. Something was opened as the sound of a cap filled her ears. Cool and thick, lubricant was drizzled between her legs and his fingers smoothed from her ass to her clit.
"Pussy fat as fuck,' he noted, "a fucking shame I didn't want to eat it."
Grabbing her chin, he forced her to look at him. As he had any time he was in her face. "This is where I'm going to nut tonight,' he says as the fat tip of his dick pokes around her asshole.
The sensation was new and she wiggled as her legs spread to accommodate his body between them. His initial push was slow, the stretch past the first ring of muscles made her hands clench beside her. This was something she wished he had bound her for.
Nami's hands became sweaty, her legs move towards her chest as she tried not to kick him away as he pushed forward again. Inch my painstakingly thick inch, Terry seated himself in her ass. Hot and tight, he drew back for his first thrust. She didn't know how to feel. Instead, she braced her hands on the back of her thighs. Nami was well aware of how thick his dick was. She had it down her throat and stuff in her pussy like she was a Thanksgiving turkey. He felt bigger, thicker, longer, reaching parts of her that release pleasurable feelings. Feeling him in her ass was different. He stretched her open, mold her ass to his dick, and fucked her roughly. Terry planted his hands on the sides of her head as his hips rocked back and forth.
"Nasty ass,' he hissed, spittle landing on her face the same way his sweat had. "Look at me when I'm fucking you."
Nami knew it would come back to haunt her later, but she flattened her hands against his stomach, needing a break from the sensation of being fucked in the ass. Terry didn't stop moving, but she saw the glint in his eyes and could hear the gears turning in his head as he logged away her rule breaking for later.
He bore down, applying more weight to his thrusts, jerking her up the bed until he had her by the headboard. Terry braced one hand on the headboard and the other grabbed Nami's hands and pinned them above her head.
"I know you aren't running," he moaned, the sound deep and growl-like.
"Please,' she whispered, "Terry, please, I can't….'
His name felt foreign on her lips.
Terry ignored her please, her body twisting beneath him to get away from him egged him on. Encourage him. He let go of the headboard, balancing on his knees, before his hand struck her outer thigh.
"Shut up." He seethed.
It had all set in for Nami as he fucked her. His body taut and rigid as he chased his high. She could feel his dick throbbing, the stuttering in his hips as he faltered and fell forward, almost on top of her.
Her touch triggered him and though he knew it wasn't sexual, his body treated it like it was. Her hands on his stomach felt she had unlocked his orgasm. The fire in his belly built fast, but Terry was faster. He pushed her face into the bed, his weight spread out over his hand and hips. That hand slid down and wrapped around her neck. His thumb pressed into her skin, rubbing back and forth as he chased his own high.
Beneath him Nami was a mess. She had wrapped her legs around his waist. With no other place to put them she used them to hold on to her dom as he did Dominate things to her ass. Weeks of prep didn't prepare her for the real thing. Being rode like a horse, Nami's breathing hitched, her own orgasm nearing. Her eyes fluttered as she watched his face. The lines around his eyes crinkled as he smirked.
"I'm a bastard I know,' he murmured. "But you like this shit,' he asked.
Did she? Or was it the satisfaction she was chasing that she liked, because Terry? Let me chase you Terry? This fucking mean tyrant?
"You're mean,' she breathed out, a hint of defiance in her eyes. "So mean,' she cried.
His fingers found her swollen clit. He played with it roughly, pulling, pinching, and rubbing so harshly that Nami didn't know if she was coming or going. Her toes began to curl, back arching upwards before he slammed his hand into her chest and pushed her into the bed. It disoriented her and she lost the orgasm.
"I think the fuck not." He shouted.
Ice cold water pelted on her body as her eyes shot open. Nami went to move when an arm tightened around her waist.
"Keep still baby,' Terry whispered.
Nami tensed. She opened her mouth to protest when Terry whispered in her ear for her to relax and calm down.
"Hey,' he says, when she beings to panic, her body shaking from his touch.
Confusion knit through his brows as they drew together. She didn't know where she was. She just knew the person she was with probably wasn't done with her. The aches in her body detailed the night she had with her dominate. The reminders were littered all over her body.
"Nami."
How was she going to apologize for blacking out?
Terry turned her around and she realized they were sitting on the floor of the shower.
"They scene is over. I need you to look at me and take a few deep breaths."
He held her face in his hands. The gentleness drastically different from what she had experienced that day. She didn't know what time it was. She just knew that she was overwhelmed, wired, and slightly scared. He leaned in to kiss her and she flinched. He took no offense. He knew she had to fully come down from that high. Everything he put her through wasn't normal by most standards. He pushed her to her limits mentally and Nami wasn't sure how she felt. For her their dynamic had shifted. She couldn't treat this like some one off or some once in a blue moon event. Terry had flipped her inside out. Rewired her in a way she didn't understand. He owned her body at this point.
He used her.
"Tell me how you're feeling."
There was still an edge to his voice. A bite he was trying to ease away.
"I'm sore." She croaked. "I touched you. I'm sorry!" Her voice cracked and she started to cry again. "I passed out!"
Terry was far from upset with her. He had spent the day dragging her through his ticks and the fact that she only touched him, intentionally, once was a miracle. How she was able to have that restraint when he was unrestrained on her body needed some rewarding.
"36." He replied. "I still fucked you. I made you into my little Twinkie, twice."
"Huh?"
36. The submissive wants to experience somnophilia.
He ignored her and turned on the warm water. Helping her to her feet, he held her up and bathed her. Starting his aftercare while she regained some strength to stand on her own. He kissed each bruise, rope mark, and red splotch on her warm brown skin. His praise mingled with the rhythmic pelting of the shower water on the tiles.
You did good.
Such a good girl you were.
Nami let her head fall back against the shower wall as he lowered to his knees. Her leg was lifted up and onto his shoulder. His mouth latched onto her clit, sucking slowly as she looked down at him.
Those blue green eyes stared back up at her. She recognized them this time and breathed out a sigh of relief.
.summary: nami's punishment continues. terry divulges himself. he also exposes himself. and indulges again.
short warnings: sensory play, oral, fingering
banner: by me (i'm working on making some better than this one lmao. first attempt I know it ain't cute)
Part One || Part Two || Part Three
Nami thought she would get tired of her hands being bound away from her. She thought she would snap and tell him she didn’t like them anymore. Instead, she pulled on them as her arms ached, so much that the burn became familiar; like brushing her teeth. She wanted them even if she wanted to touch Terry more. In the guest room, Nami flexed her feet, one of them was bound at the ankle to the end of the bed. The other was pushed up, opening her legs. She stared up at the ceiling in wait, Terry somewhere in the house doing who knows what before he came and did god knows what to her body.
“Your playtime has been cut in half, significantly,’ he says, still feeling miffed from her earlier attitude.
Nami noted that Terry wasn’t going to just let things go. He held her to her choices while standing on his own. The fact that he was still going to indulge her was surprising. After the chicken tenders and fries, she figured he would keep distance between them. Instead, he spent ten minutes kissing her while her hands tugged on her pretty yellow leather cuffs. Personalized with ‘Pretty Gyal’ in black thread, the cuffs were becoming bracelets. A cute accessory to the debauchery Terry inflicted upon her.
“But, I can indulge myself, yes?”
“Yes, Sir.”
“Good.”
She couldn’t see him from her positon on the bed. Head in the pillows, the room was a comfortable temperature, the cuffs weren’t too tight and she was at ease. Moments later, Terry came to the side of the bed, placing a bowl on the table next to it. He picked up her phone and turned it off.
“No distractions.” He had left his own to die in the kitchen.
The guest bedroom door was shut, enclosing them in their own little world. He knelt next to the bed, his finger tips running along her side.
“Tonight was supposed to end with my face buried in your pussy. I was supposed to be eating you like the last supper, watching you try not to cum. I was supposed to let you get one off, because I wanted to watch you break apart.”
“I’m sorry, Sir,’ she says, ‘really sorry.”
Terry’s face softened for a little, she noted the way the lines in his forehead disappeared before they snapped back and his eyes slanted away from her as he looked at her restraints.
“So you’ve told me.” He paused. “However, your punishment doesn’t end after being spanked.” He kissed his teeth and shook his head. “I want the lesson learned to stick so you remember not to do it again. Understood?”
“Yes, Sir.”
He looked behind him at the bowl before continuing. “You circled sensory play and over stimulation.”
“Yes, Sir,’ she replied, though her voice lifted at the end in question.
“I’m going to add edging and if you are a good girl for me, I might let you cum.”
The threat and reward lingered in the air between them. Her body tingled as he stood up with his fingers stroking her cheek, her bottom lip, and she parted her mouth. The bowl beside the bed disappeared as he placed it on the bed between her legs.
“I want you to talk to me, okay?” Terry vocalized. “This is for you and you need to tell me what you like. Tell me what feels good.” He gestured to the room. “In here, I’ll do my best to give you what you need. Maybe even what you want.”
Terry’s words hung between them as he stood up.
He didn’t like to improvise but the chilling item in the bowl would have to do. Cold, his fingers dipped into the ice, the circular pieces came from a mold meant to make it easier to add to water bottles. The cylinder shape looked phallic and the sadistic tendencies Terry had began to surface. That would not be happening tonight. He wanted to be the first thing to fuck her.
“Just feel,’ he instructed, ‘make the noises you want to.” He looked at her soft brown eyes.
Nami hissed as the ice that landed on her belly and it sat chilling on her skin. It slowly started to melt, the cold water running down the her sides and hips. As it sat there, Terry took another piece in his hands and ran it down her inner thigh. She was warmer here and the ice snapped in half in his hands.
“Hm..”
His hands dipped into the bowl again and she hissed when a piece of the ice circled her nipple and another slipped between her legs.
“Oh,’ she hummed, unsure which sensation she should focus on.
The one on her chest was cold, but it was tolerable and her nipples hardened as he circled it around. The ice slipping between her lower lips was harsher, colder, and uncomfortable.
“I…I don’t,’ she began, her eyes searching the ceiling as she tried to find the words.
“What’s wrong?” Terry asks, stopping his movements and that gives Nami the clarity she needed.
“I don’t think I like that as much,’ she admitted in a whisper. “Can I scratch that off the list?” She asked, the genuine question in her eyes made him smile.
“Yeah, we can take that off, babygirl.”
The initial touch of the ice was blissful, but the biting chill of it after wasn’t something she’d derive any pleasure from. Not even from the ice that he was pressing flush to her pussy, though the cold she liked.
“Tell me why you don’t like it.”
Nami licked her suddenly dry lips.
“What part of me playing with your pussy with ice turned you off.”
“The…the, um,’ she fumbled, his expression was one of pure elation as if he was enjoying talking to her this way. This wasn’t a Dom in front of her. Her free leg suddenly drew upwards as realization set in. He was too readable this way and she didn’t know if to feel happy or aroused.
“At first it feels good. But then it’s too cold and it hurts. It stings and numbs.”
“We can try it another way.”
He couldn’t push it off any longer. The ice had long since melted and his fingers were coated in her thick and sticky essence as he worked it from her body. He could feel her body shaking to stay still. Her hips stuttered and she gave into the pleasure, eyes drifting closed as she moaned.
“You like that,’ he teased, applying a little more pressure.
“Yes,”
“Shh, my pussy is talking,’ he grabbed another piece of ice and chilled his hands before adding them to her body.
He alternated between eating ice and rubbing it across her skin. The more he played with her pussy the hotter she began to feel and the ice became pleasurable.
“That’s it, pretty baby.” He cooed. “You want to cum for me don’t you.”
Nami was speechless, the multiple sensations her body was experiencing made her toes curl. A knot sat deep in her stomach, tight, and getting tighter. She fought against it but she knew moving would make it worse. Nami took deep breaths, loudly blowing them out as she tried to count herself down from a ten to a two. Her head cleared a little and she thought of something else, the shake in her limbs relaxing after a few minutes. Terry had pulled his hand away and watched as she fought the urge to cum. Her chest rose and fell slowly and she counted to herself.
“Good girl,’ Terry was amused, ‘yu really waah cum fi mi nuh you?’ he laughed. “Tell mi how it feel.”
Nami watched his eyes light up as he smiled. All fucking thirty-two teeth were bared and the shift in his speech sent the flood straight from her pussy to the bedsheets. She blinked in wonder as he kissed her wrists. Terry then leaned down and pressed his lips to her forehead, cheek, nose, and then her lips. His fingers began to poke around her hole, flirting with her wet folds as his tongue licked into her mouth. The squelching sounds had been minor before. She could hear them now and feel the way her slick stuck to his fingers.
“Talk to me, Nami,’ he whispered.
“It feels good.”
“I know that,’ he replied. “Talk to me.”
“You have me so wet,’ she admitted, his fingers stroking continuously in the same pattern, driving her thoughts wild with the repetition.
Her breath fanned against his face as she breathed, trying to control herself as his thumb began to strum her clit like a guitar. His fingers moved downward and she bucked her hips unexpectedly when his middle and ring finger pushed into her cunt and stroked in a ‘come hither’ motion. His thumb made light circles on her swollen clit. He scissored his fingers, stretching her left and right.
Terry kissed down her jaw and sucked on the skin of her neck. The words left her lips faster than she could form them in her head.
“Does it feel good, baby,” Terry asked.
“Yes, Daddy…”
“Who's making you feel good,’ he hissed. His stroke became faster.
“You, Daddy-please,’ Nami pleaded. His hand was doing demonic craft through his fingers. He was the spawn of a pleasure demon and she could feel her offering leaking from between her legs.
Nami felt her body arching into his fingers, seeking out more from him, and he pulled them away. The relief that washed over her as her body fell to the bed was magical. Clarity set in and she threw her leg over to close herself off, trying to rub away the intense feelings pulsating through her slit.
Terry reached over to the nightstand and turned on her phone. He slid it unlock and set a timer. He dropped the phone onto her stomach as he kissed down her body, his tongue drawing her left nipple into his mouth. He grinned as she pushed her chest upwards towards him, the touch caught her off guard. His tongue lapped there for a few seconds then left a trail towards her sex. Before that he tapped the outside of her leg to get her attention.
“Yes, Sir,’ she slurred, the sexual haze settling over her as she tried to keep her thoughts clear. She was overwhelmed and her body felt hot.
“You have two minutes left,’ he pressed a light kiss to her sex. The tip of his tongue flicked against her swollen clit and she whimpered. “You can hold it that long and Daddy will let you cum.”
“Please, I’ll be good!” She didn’t want to wait two minutes.
Amused, Terry looked up from his wet fixation. “You’ll be good huh?”
Nami whined. “I’ll be so good for you.”
He kissed her pussy again with a bit more firm pressure. Namis legs shaked.
”Two minutes.”
He started the timer and pushed her legs apart. Terry pressed his hand into the back of her knee and held it open as his tongue licked between her wet slit. She tried to count, but lost track when he licked from her weeping hole to her sensitive throbbing clit. Terry felt her trying to drag her body away from him. He let her, watching her twist away from him as he licked his lips. He followed her, pushing her legs back open. He finds the phone and drops it beside her head, his eyes threatening her to keep still.
“Be still.”
He grabbed her hips and lowered his mouth back to her pussy, slurping his tongue through it. His mouth was cold. The ice shocked her body with a sudden chill. Terry’s tongue quickly licked the chill away, warming her up and making her slicker. The sounds of him eating her out were loud and wet. He sucked her clit into his mouth roughly as his fingers rejoined in stroking her hole.
Nami was on the verge of tears, the knot in her belly was hard to keep away, and she couldn’t see the time to know what was left and she was sure she wasn’t going to make it.
“Hold out for me,’ Terry says.
His fingers were playing a symphony on her g-spot, how could she?
“Yuh naa go rush Daddy yuh?”
He brought his fingers to his mouth, sucking them clean as she caught a glimpse of his face. His mouth and chin were soaked. The sight of him covered in her mess was too much. The deep baritone of his patois was just as mind numbing as the fingers that had been slipping in and out of her pussy. Nami’s legs drifted shut, her toes curling.
The alarm on the phone blared and she let go, whimpering as her orgasm soared through her. She didn’t even need him to touch her, just the sight of him between her legs tasting her and the feeling of his thick tongue pushed her over. The alarm was just the trigger. Terry watched her body shake, her hole leaked, creating a large wet spot on the sheets. He thumbed her over the sensitive clit and watched how that same leaking hole clenched around nothing. How her sweet little pink cunt needed to be filled as it welcomed his fingers again. He stroked her a few times, watching her face wince in overstimulation. As Terry watched her sum, he kept eating the ice.
When his cold tongue flattened against her pussy a second time, Nami tugged so hard on her restraint the latched holding them to the bed snapped. Her wrists were still bound as they came swinging forward from the sudden momentum. Terry heard the snap and looked up and his hand came out to grab her wrists before her hands could grab him. He had disclosed jujitsu as one of his hobbies but she was still surprised at his reflexes. Maybe it was the marine in him too. Either way he pinned them over head, but didn’t hold them. He looked at her in warning and she silently understood.
“Yes. Sir.”
He brought her body to the edge of the bed after unbinding them completely. He knelt between her legs as he watched her hands to make sure they were above her head. She had them face downwards and gripping the sheets. Once he parted her legs his mouth latched on to her clit. He assaulted it with his tongue, licked, sucked into his mouth, and devoted so much attention to it she was begging him to let up and slow down.
His tongue licked lower, his resolve gone as he licked his way into her hole, sucking the slick she hadn’t stopped leaking. It was all unbeatable this time and he gave into temptation. He pulled her legs over his shoulders so he could hold her still. Nami rocked her hips against his mouth, his wet and deadly mouth.
“I knew this pussy was going to taste good,’ he breathed out, a light chuckle in his chest.
His eyes were blue, Nami’s mouth dropped open as Terry’s tongue flicked against her like a snake's tail.
With her legs pressed towards her chest, Terry’s tongue played around in her pussy. He was such a noisy eater, slurping and sucking until she was trying to wiggle away from him. His hips began to rock and he flattened his tongue against her pussy letting her ride his face. Her chest rose and fell as she sucked in air. She needed some relief and it was starting to expand in her lower belly. A fire so hot the ice on his tongue did little to soothe.
She felt like crying. The sensation of being licked and forcing herself not to cum was making her head split. She felt like she was being pulled in two different directions. Nami looked down at him again. His eyes, fuck, those eyes.
Were they?
Green? Now?
Chameleon ass…..
Fucking green eyed bast-
The shrill of the alarm scared Nami right into her orgasm. Her back arched off the bed and her toes curled from their position in the air. She sucked in a deep breath, feeling her pussy quiver as she wished to turn on her side and rub her thighs together, the friction needed.
When did he set another one?
Terry tore himself away from her cunt. Standing abruptly he wiped a hand over his mouth and chin, but his skin still shone with the aftermath of her orgasm.
Nami tried to sit up. Her body slumped back to the bed as she joined him in trying to catch their breath. Her voice was soft, sleepy sounding, but he heard it:
“Thank you, Daddy.”
Terry looked down at himself. He had worn briefs beneath his sweats, hoping to contain himself a bit better and resist the urge to jerk off as he tasted her. Nami wasn’t like previous submissives. Her naivety turned him on. Her wonder and interest renewed his lust for the community. He looked down at her, his heavy breathing silent as she laid there, legs spread, for his next instruction. She was waiting to know what he wanted her to do. He bit down on his lip, slightly upset he lost control just now. He shouldn’t have indulged in her the way he had. Not when punishment was the precursor. He should have edged her and then let her be. Yet, Terry had given in. He had let her cum. He had went against his own R.E.L.Ls to indulge when he had been waiting for the right moment. A tinge of anger settled into his bones and he looked away from her inviting body and slipped into the bathroom.
He had exposed a part of himself that he shouldn’t have and she caught it. Caught him. He couldn’t fault her for what she did not know was happening. As he busied himself with running her a bath, Terry opened the bathroom’s closet and pulled out a towel and placed it on the sink counter.
“Sir,’ came her soft voice.
She stood in the door, her hands bound in front of her, curly hair messy, and his shirt was wrinkled and damp. Nami was a mess of his doing and he bit back the urge to smile. Shit. He needed to reel himself in. The scene was over and he could feel the drop in energy.
“Yes?” He replied after swallowing.
“I was trying not to cum.” She whispered. She raised her hands and rubbed them over her flushed face. Her mascara had run, making dark streaks over her cheeks. “I really was trying.”
Terry’s eyes softened as he walked over to her. “I know.” He cupped her face and brought his head down to kiss her. “You made it to the end of the two minutes.” He pulled away and kissed her forehead. “Twice.”
“Am I still in trouble,’ she asked as she pursed her lips.
“Nah, you’re not in trouble.”
He let her go and she watched him prep her bath. He never stayed in the bathroom with her, so when he beckoned her in she didn’t hesitate.
“Grab the counter.”
She put her back to him and placed her hands on the counter. He stood behind her and she watched him in the large mirror. Shirtless, his chest pressed against her back and he unnecessarily leaned into her to remove the cuffs. His hands wrapped around her wrists as his fingers unlatched the leather. He kissed her neck, pulled down the shirt and pressed his lips to her shoulder all the while keeping eye contact with her in the mirror. She tried to look away but his eyes were hypnotic, drawing her in and keeping her hostage.
With the cuffs gone, Nami lifted her arms to rub her wrists. Beside her, Terry opened a drawer and pulled out a blue tin of salve. His hands then grabbed the back of the shirt and lifted upwards before tossing it into a hamper near the closet. Terry turned around and turned off the water, testing the temperature. She stayed still, watching him over her shoulder. The muscles in his back flexed as he stood up right.
“When you’re done, wrap in that towel and come see me in the living room.”
Spread over his lap, Nami’s eyes rolled upwards as he rubbed the thick salve into her ass and inner thighs. His thumbs pressed into her skin and she went limp, enjoying the care. She was in another one of his shirts, not caring it was hanging off her head as she let her arms dangle. His hand smoothed up her back, her shoulders slumping more into his thighs.
Choking. Spanking. Grabbing. Massaging.
Those hands could do whatever they wanted to.
“Do you need a nap?” He asked.
They had done a lot over the past few days and he wondered if he was moving too fast. She was just so willing.
“Not yet,’ she replied. If she did she wanted to take on with him.
“I want to talk about one of the kinks you have.” He says.
He pulls down her shirt and helps her sit up. She tucks her hands into her lap as she sits cross legged next to him on the couch. He closed the salve tin and dropped it on the infamous table.
“Yes, S-’
“Speak freely.” He says. “This one is serious.”
He had studied that paper like it was his orders for work.
“Do you understand the depth of control I have to have to allow you to participate in consensual non consent, even with me?”
Nami bit down on her bottom lip. It was one of the first kinks she circled and though she knew the extent of what it could be, Terry’s question had her second guessing.
“No.” She whispered. “Do you not want to do it? We can take it off.”
Terry’s hand came down on her knee, stopping her fidgeting. He leaned back and shook his head.
“That’s not why I am asking.” He looked at her and then to where his hand was on her thigh. “You are giving me consent before it ever happens. That’s different than in the moment. Yeah, you can safeword, but there is no other way to do the kink unless you go all the way. No safewording.” He could see the concern on her face. “I wouldn’t do anything you hadn’t agreed to prior, but we can’t plan this kink. It comes when I want it to.”
Nami had mentioned she wanted to give up control, as much as she could, because she liked being used in that way. For lack of better words if he wanted, Terry could use her as a toy. She derived so much pleasure from sexual intimacy. The kinks heightened the feelings, but being that close to a man was the main turn on. To be desired in that way.
“If I see you aren’t enjoying it then I will stop it. And we can try at a later time.” Terry continued. “I’m going to come to you when you don’t want it. When you’re tired or when you’re busy. Your safe word is the only trigger and if you use it, I will never do this kink again.” He paused. “If I have control then I have it. It’s not shared. It’s not traded back and forth. It’s mine the same way your body will be in that moment. At my discretion and for how long I desire to use it.”
She twisted the shirt in her hands while she looked down at the material.
“But it wouldn’t happen until after I fuck you so you have nothing to worry about for now. I just wanted you to know the severity of that particular kink.”
“How do we warm up to that?”
Terry laughed, not at her, but he understood the joke. “We don’t, however, exploring your kinks helps me create the scene for you. I’ll do what you like after I do what I want.”
Nami nodded, unsure of what to say. She needed to think about it.
“Can I ask you something,’ she inquired.
“Of course,’ he replied, his hand sliding up her thigh and beneath the shirt. “Anything you want.”
“You….earlier, there was a difference,’ she fumbled over her words, trying to string them together so they made sense. “I called you Daddy but you didn’t correct me. Or punish me for it.”
“In the heat of things I can forget to pace myself and I slip into a different head space.”
“Was it my fault?” She asked.
Terry’s eyes shot up to hers and he leaned forward, almost in her lap. She kept her hands tightly fisted in the shirt.
“No, you did everything right.” He sighed.
Nami waited for him to speak again, though she let out a sigh of content when he kissed her. His tongue swept over her bottom lip and she opened her mouth, letting him taste her as if he hadn’t. Her hands twitched and she huffed. So badly she wanted to hold his face, his shoulders, scratch up his back, marvel at the way his toned stomach rippled beneath her fingers and feel the heaviness of his dick in her hands.
She was snatched from her thoughts as his hand pushed between her legs, the heat inviting his fingers back into her cove, just as wet as it had been before.
“What are you thinking about that made you so wet, Nami?” He teased, pushing her to lie back on the couch.
He unfolded her legs, pushed her arms up and settled between her thighs.
“I really want to touch you.” She says, eyes glossy as he played with her pussy. Their talk became more sensual as he pushed them into her cunt, stroking a fire that was warming her belly.
“I know.” He kissed her neck, tugging the skin between his teeth as she arched into his fingers. “I can’t keep my hands off you.” He admitted. “You taste so fucking good, baby.”
He crawled to the floor, kneeling beside her before pulling her legs to either side of his head. He brought her body down, resting her thighs on his shoulders as he held her still. He kissed her clit, looking up at her as she held onto the back of the couch.
“Mi nuh need yuh touchin mi rite now.”
Terry whispered patois to her pussy, his lips licking up her slick as she dug her nails into the back of the couch. There it was again, Nami thought, something gentle about how he spoke to her, the patois rolling across her ears as she moaned. She tried to keep still, to watch him devour her, but her body betrayed her and she rocked her hips back and forth against his mouth again.
She was still sensitive from earlier and the need to push his head away while pulling him closer at the same time was high. His tongue was flat as it pressed against her cunt and she could almost feel his damn tastebuds flaring up as they became soaked in her mess.
“Sweet little pussy,’ he hummed. “Mi a guh fuck yuh senseless.”
{ if you wanted to be on this taglist and I have not added you yet please let me know! I feel like I'm forgetting people and I don't want to do that! }
summary: nami gets a bit beside herself. terry's control snaps and he gets a little petty.
word count: 4k
graphics by @firefly-graphics & @cafekitsune
authors note: this is for the brats. not the ones that know they are brats, but the ones where it just....slips out accidentally and you "have to see it through ma boy".
Part One || Part Two
“Stop watching my hands.”
Nami looked down at the organic chemistry book in front of her. She was sitting at Terry’s dining table, to the left of where he spanked her last night. There were no hooks in the table and sitting somewhere normal felt odd. The numbers had long since blurred and every time she looked back to the problem she was working on she was confused. Reading through the problem from the beginning, she quickly found her place, scribbling with her mechanical BIC pencil until she was at the end when her thoughts began to wander.
Terry’s eyes were on the television, his body stretched out on the couch. One arm was tossed on top of his head and his black sweats cuffed around the ankles. His shirt was embellished with ‘marine’ in thick white letters. Something was on tv, but she couldn’t remember the name of the series. He was two episodes in and silent about it. You should be studying instead of watching tv anyway. Terry hadn’t taken his eyes off the tv once since turning it on. He hadn’t moved either and the tent in his sweats was getting larger. She had earned her first Play Time.
This was the most relaxed she had been in a while when it came to her studies.
“What number are you on,’ he asked, finally turning his hazel eyes to her.
She sat in the chair wearing just one of his shirts. It was currently eight-thirty and Terry claimed to have plans for them later this afternoon. When he learned she needed to study, he took her home to get her study materials, clothes, and anything else she needed. He waited on the couch with arms stretched over the back of it like he lived there.
Out of twenty questions, the easy ones she breezed through, she had finished sixteen. The last four were multi-step and required a deeper understanding of the material.
“Sixteen.” She replied.
“Still?”
It wasn’t like he was offering to help and she didn’t even know if he understood anything about organic chemistry. Hell, she barely did. Looking down at the smudged paper where she almost erased a hole into it, she sighed, dropping her pencil to rub her temples.
“You’ve been over there tapping that calculator and shit,’ he sat up just enough to place the tv remote on the table. “I figured you were one from done.”
He swung his feet to the floor and stood up, but walked towards the kitchen. He opened his fridge as she looked down at the textbook angrily. This was the one class she hated the most. She sat comfortably with a B in it. Just enough to pass for the credit towards her degree.
He grabbed two waters and walked towards her. Placing one on the table beside her books, he stood behind her. Terry leaned forward, his head resting on her shoulder before his lips found her neck. He had pulled her hair to the side, sucked on her flesh while she tried to focus on the problem at hand and not the one causing a problem between her legs.
Nami slid her hand to the side. It was the first time her hands weren’t bound or held and she wanted to touch him. She had tasted him twice, but being able to feel him in her hands had her thought’s racing. Perceptive, Terry grabbed her wrist and brought it to his lips.
“Am I distracting you?” He asked.
Nami didn’t want to say yes. He had a habit of going into the room and closing the door. That wasn’t what she wanted.
“No, it’s just….hard.”
Terry laughed softly and pulled her up from the chair. Turning it so the back was against the table he sat down and pulled her to straddle his lap. His hands landed on her thighs.
“Pick up the pencil.”
He pulled her left arm behind her back, keeping it still while the other palmed her sore ass.
“Work through the problem.”
He hiked up the shirt until it was bunched around her waist and rubbed her thighs. Pressed up against him this way she had to be still. Nami started from the top and soon realized her mistake from previous attempts. She erased again, correcting herself and finding the rhythm to finish the problem. She double checked her work before moving on, slightly uncomfortable with her arm in his wrist behind her back. Terry’s hand crept under the shirt and cupped her breast, his thumb then worked back and forth over her nipple, tugging it just enough her breath hitched. He kissed along her jaw and neck, tugging downwards on her nipple until she let out a pained sound. Her hips jerked forward and he swatted her ass, his hand leaving her breast exposed and cold.
“Keep that ass still.”
Nami began the next problem, cycled through it while Terry reached for her breast again. This time his hips moved. It was slow at first. Teasingly slow.
“You want to know something,’ he says, his hips bucking upwards as he holds her still, ‘I know this pussy is good.”
He grinned as she struggled to keep still. “You want to know how I know?” He asked.
“Yea, Sir,’ she breathed.
“Because you don’t know what the fuck to do with it.”
She moaned as his fingers dragged towards her clit from the back.
“This pussy leaks, drips, and cries. Every time I look at it, it’s so fucking wet You need my dick don’t you?”
“Yessss Sir.”
“I know. I know.” Terry began playing with her clit, his grip on her arm tightening. “S’okay,’ he slurred, ‘I’m going to teach you.”
Nami let out a long sigh to disguise her moan.
“Didn’t I say stop watching my hands?” Terry’s voice snapped her out of her thoughts.
Nami jumped, wiped the drool on the side of her lip and stared down at her paper. She looked down at herself and realized she had zoned out and imagined him that close. He was still stretched out on the couch across the room from her.
He flicked his eyes back to the tv. “What number are you on?”
Nami flipped back to the previous page, opting for a little white lie, her day dreams had her wanting to make them a reality. Fuck the homework. She wanted him.
“Nineteen,’ she looked up and saw his eyes on her. Grabbing the calculator, she input the problems components and began equating them on her paper. She’d finish them when she was home and away from his presence, but she wanted to pretend to be trying to finish.
“When you’re done, come here.”
Nami’s hand snaked between her legs moments later, just grazing her bare cunt. Fuck. She held a sheet of paper in her hands and since her bag was between her legs on the floor she could-
”Aye!” Terry snapped. “Touch my pussy if you want to.” He looked at her. “Hands on the table.”
She worked her mouth into a frown as he scolded her. Her eyes narrowed slightly and she sat back in her chair, dragging it across the floor to get closer to the table. She threw her elbow on the table before her arm fell flat on the wood surface. She snatched up the calculator and used it to cover face, pretending to need it that close to use it. The movements were so fluid that Terry’s brow shot up. Oh?
Who the fuck was she getting an attitude with? Terry thought.
“Chill.” Terry replied instead, brushing off the exchange.
Nami looked up at him and gave a shrug, no verbal reply followed. Terry’s hand twitched. Staying quiet, Terry sat up, and grabbed the remote before turning off the tv. Nami suddenly scratched at an itch in him to correct. He had learned early on that when it came to submissiveness, black women couldn’t entirely let go of their attitudes and when they popped up they were often mislabeled as brats. Nami wasn’t a brat. She just had an attitude and clearly it needed adjusting. She was testing his patience. His control. Him. She was testing him.
Normally, a verbal correction could shape all that up. However, she wasn’t responding to him. Nami replied with her body and it was irking him. This wasn’t about him in the end. She wanted him to react. She wanted his hands on her. She wanted the correction and she had no idea what it looked like.
“That’s definitely strike two.” He told her. “Why you playin’ right now? You fucking up your Play Time.”
Terry had planned to indulge in one of her kinks and finally taste that pussy. Why would she want to mess that up?
"What number are you on, Nami?" With all this playing she had better be done.
“I’m not done.”
“Did I fucking ask that?” Terry’s resolve shattered and he stood up.
Nami watched him approach, his fingers rubbing together to tether himself. His restraint was slipping. He let out a long breath through his nose.
“No.”
“No?” He repeated as if giving her a clear chance to turn all this around.
“No.” Her shoulders shrugged.
Terry reached out before he could stop himself and fisted his hand into her hair.
“Get up.” Terry lifted her to her feet with his grip on her hair. It was just tight enough to guide her to her feet without pulling. He didn’t want to make her cry. Well, not right now.
He suddenly released her hair and took a step back. His shoulders rolled as he craned his neck side to side, stretching out. She stood there, rubbing the back of her head in just his shirt. He could push her to her knees and have her swallow his load over and over. He could choke her on his dick, spank her until she cried, but she wanted that. This just wasn’t the way to get it.
Scratching his chin, he took a seat back on the couch.
“Pack up.” He pointed towards her stuff. “I’m going to take you back home.”
He dropped her cuffs back into the drawer and stood to go find his shoes. He stepped into his bedroom leaving her there with her mouth half open. She didn’t want to leave, that's not what she wanted him to do. She wanted his hands on her, bringing her to the cusp of an orgasm so she could feed the itch between her legs. Nami wanted him to touch her and move her the way he wanted. Instead, she watched his retreating back.
He didn’t close the bedroom door this time but she knew entering would make things worse. Huffing, she returned to her seat and put her bag on the table. She started shoving her things back into it and didn’t notice that he had stepped to his door and leaned against it, watching her. His arms folded over his chest and let his new toy dangle from his fingers. The leather was cool in his hands, but he was sure once it was used it would warm right up.
“So you can listen?” He says as she yanks the zipper on her bag closed.
Nami looked up a full pout on her full lips. “Yes, Sir,’ she whispered.
“Huh?” He said, cupping his ear. “That apology needs to be as loud as that attitude was. Don’t get all shy now.” He saw her eyes wandering to his hands and he snapped his fingers. “Look at me.”
“We’re about to talk about boundaries. Cause you are pushing some buttons today and I want to wear that ass out. Last night would be a cake walk. You won’t be able to sit when I’m done with you.”
“You told me you were about to take me home.” Nami replied. “We can talk about it next time.” If he was going to say something she was going to make him stand on it. She figured that since he was taking her home she could speak freely.
Big mistake.
“Nami,’ he sighed, ‘I’m giving you a chance to fix your attitu-’
“I don’t have an attitude.”
If there was ever a moment for a record scratch now was it. Terry laughed, it didn’t reach his eyes, but the sound sounded joyous. He pushed off the door frame and walked towards her. Nami’s eyes dropped to his crotch. Oh shit. His dick was still swinging side to side as he walked, but it was not hard. Not like she had thought it would be. Not like last night. He was serious.
“Yeah, that shit aint cute.”
When he was in front of her, she looked up at him. Feeling his body heat as he worked his tongue around his mouth. His jaw ticked and she so badly wanted to reach out and touch him. She hated that rule.
“I’m not trying to be cute.”
With some restraint, Terry grabbed her face by the jaw, his fingers pressed into the flesh there as he guided her to sit on the couch.
“Nami, shut the fuck up.”
He sat on the table in front of her and she noticed the riding crop across his lap. He grabbed the front of her shirt and dragged her to the floor. She landed in a huff and he tugged on her hair, pulling her head backwards. He saw the pleasure in her face and shook his head.
“You could have just asked me for this.” He says, his hand smacking her cheek in a test pop. “Is this what you want? You want me to rough you up?”
Terry his hand tightened in her hair as he stood up, leaving her on her knees. He saw her hands move towards him.
“Don’t test me, Nami.”
He was doing a lot of talking, he realized. He was trying to diffuse the tension between them, maybe get back to what he had planned for the day, but she wasn’t making it easy on him. She placed her hands in her lap, clenching them into fists. Terry was swiftly moving this time, the crop dropping to the floor as he brought Nami back to the table. He laid her on her back this time, stretching her further across the wood. Her arms dangled over one side and her legs the other. He stopped talking, moving through cuffing her to the table with ease. She stared up at the ceiling, her chest rising and falling as she began to over think his next move.
Terry sat on the couch and pulled the table closer to him, her added weight making no difference to him. He placed her feet on the table and spread them apart, ignoring her pussy beginning to glisten. He only stood up to push her shirt up, covering her face. Nami’s body rolled to the side in confusion, trying to shake off the shirt.
Stinging.
He struck her with the riding crop on the outside of her thighs. Then again and again. And one more time until she realized she was supposed to be counting. The pain had jarred her mind and she couldn’t think clearly. She bit down on her lip to keep from crying.
The cold leather rubbed between her legs, up her inner thighs, and her legs fell open from the soothing sensation. It was followed promptly by a sharp strike to her inner thigh.
“Five, Sir, please,’ she begged this time. “It hurts…..”
“What the fuck does that have to do with me?”
He switched sides, the crop landing on her sensitive skin on her left. He dragged it down the valley between her breasts and delighted in the way her body shivered. Now, he was getting hard. This turned him on. He couldn’t see her face, but she was shaking her head side to side still, her arms tugging on her restraints. The cold metal cuffs bit into her skin and she almost dropped her foot from the table.
“Six, Sir,’ she sputtered, the crop landing on the underside of her breast, her nipple nearly swatted. "No, no, no, no,no...." she whined.
She only had four more though she didn’t know it and he was going to make them count. Coming to stand behind her head, he reached between her legs with the crop and stroked her cunt with it. When the leather began to shine with her slick his hand joined by slowly spreading her wet lips apart. Like a flower she opened up, and he thumbed her clit a few times. He wanted so bad to dip his fingers into her and play in her nectar, but again ... she did what she wanted and acted up.
“Oh, Sir,’ she moaned, hips rising to seek out his fingers.
He drew the crop back and smacked it against her clit, the scream she let out was loud and sent blood rushing to his dick. He kept her open, stroking her down to her weeping little hole, then using the crop to remind her of the reality of the situation.
“Eight, Sir,’ she turned her head towards her arm, the shirt in the way as she blinked through the tears. She wanted to enjoy his thick fingers but the crop ruined the sensation just as quickly as it started.
He applied another hit to her thigh, still stroking her pussy. His fingers were drenched and when he drew his hand away the crop landed just below her clit. Her legs snapped shut around the crop, locking it in place as she cursed.
“Ten, Sir, please….”
“Open your fucking legs,’ he growled. “Now!”
Her legs feel apart slowly, the red skin on her thighs beginning to welt. Terry admired his work, the way she dripped on the table and off his fingers. He left her hooked to the table and retreated to the kitchen for a bottle of water. He looked at her while he drank. Nami was bound to his coffee table like a work of art and if he didn’t have anything to do he would leave her there. Then again, his kitchen was low. He could use a few groceries. Terry soon tossed the empty bottle into the trash and clapped his hands together. Nami heard a jingle of keys and the door opening.
“When I get back you had better work through that shit.”
Terry arrived back at the house two hours later with lunch and food for the house. He looked to the table and saw Nami was relaxed, too relaxed.
Dropping the bags on the table, he placed their food on the stove before tossing his keys, loudly, into the bowl he kept them on the foyer table. He walked to the table where Nami was spread out and pulled the shirt off her head. Big brown eyes, red from crying, stared back up at him.
“I’m sorry, Sir,’ she whimpered, eyes looking away from his intense stare.
“You’re sorry,’ he said, kneeling so they were closer to eye level.
Terry rubbed his hand across her belly, eyeing the welts on her inner thighs. He knew her ass was still sore.
“Yes, Sir.”
“It’s not even noon and I’ve had to punish you twice within twenty-four hours.” He stood up and unhook her arms. “Did you work through whatever little attitude you had before I left?”
Nami sat up with his help and brought her cuffed hands between her legs as she sat up. She rested them on the table, tugging at the hem of her shirt. She winced as her legs stretched out. Her shoulders relaxed and she felt her back slump forward.
“Yes, Sir,’ she says.
Terry uncuffed her hands and kissed the inside of her wrists. He kissed up her arm until they were nose to nose. He lifted her head and kissed her briefly.
“It’s way too early for you to be getting an attitude with me.” Terry grabs her jaw in his hand. “Don’t do that shit again.”
Helping her up, he guides her to the kitchen and sits her at the counter. She places her hands on the table and he removes the cuffs. Before he walked away he stood beside her and leaned against the counter.
“What do you need from me?”
She wanted to scream to touch him. Why couldn’t she? It was the only rule that was making her go crazy.
“A hug.” She pouted.
Terry smiled and pulled Nami into his arms. He kept her hands between them, flat against their bodies as he cupped the back of her head with one hand and wrapped the other around her waist. She rested against him, hoping for a bit more contact, and sighed.
“Let’s talk.”
Terry slanted his lips over her, kissing down her jaw and neck as he breathed in. He then slid a sheet of paper and pen across the island while walking to the other side. She looked down to see a list of kinks, ranging from vanilla to extreme chocolate. She picked up the pen as she sat.
“Circle what you like.”
“I haven’t done half of this,’ she admitted, wondering how to even pronounce half of these kinks.
“Underline it if you’re curious.” He looked down at the paper. “Cross it off if it’s a no.”
He turned his back to her and began putting away the items he bought. Organized to his liking, Terry shut the pantry door and walked to the stove. He took out his takeout boxes and remembered his order with a chuckle. Both were still warm and he plates them with his back to her. Nami was quiet as she read through the list. Many of these she was curious about and underlined them, kinks she hadn’t thought to be kinks were circled, while she made sure to circle everything she liked. Terry’s phone went off again and he turned his head slightly in the direction of it. Letting it ring, he reached into his cabinet for glasses, using water from the fridge to fill her cup. He brought that first, looking down at the paper while she ran the pen over it.
“Dirty girl,’ he mumbled. “My hand should be a necklace,’ he reminded her with a smirk. She made sure to circle choking.
“You’re not supposed to be looking yet.” She pulled her paper closer and used her arm to cover it while she finished up.
Terry leaned back, giving her space, and turned back to their plates before bringing them over. He had a bowl of pasta, grilled chicken and broccoli, nothing too heavy, this early. Nami breathed in the smell of chicken and looked up. Her smile dropped when she realized what was on her plate.
Fries.
Chicken tenders.
Nami looked down at the plate then back up to Terry. He stabbed his fork into the pasta before bringing it to his mouth.
“Something wrong?” He asked. He followed her gaze to her plate. “You act like a child, I will feed you like one.”
Nami pursed her lips, her stomach growled before she could say she wasn’t hungry. Terry smiled, and pointed towards the plate. “Eat.”
“Do you have ketchup?”
“The fridge.”
As she got up, he slid her paper to his side of the island. His hazel eyes raked over the paper, making mental notes of which kinks paired well together, others he’d have to ease her into, and those he’d have to isolate and focus on individually. She was big on lack of choice if her choices of asphyxiation and sensory deprivation were any indications of it. Nami slid back in the stool watching him read through the list. Over one hundred different kinks listed and the anticipation of trying them gave her a tingling feeling.
“We’ll get to these," he pushes the paper back to her. “It’s been two days and you’ve done a lot.” He eyes her, thinking about how much fun they could be having had it not been for her moment earlier. “Does anything we’ve done so far make you uncomfortable?”
Nami thought back to the moments leading up to now. The online chats, the first lunch, the first night together, this morning ... .all of it, and she couldn’t think of a moment that she wasn’t enjoying herself.
“I’m confused about something,’ she says, jabbing a fry in the cold ketchup. “I mentioned the type of situation I wanted and I don’t know when one begins and the other ends. Or if-’
”I want you to get used to me as your Dominant, then things will progress. I’m learning about you.” He replies, hoping his answer isn’t aloof. She needed the truth. They were compatible so far. Blurring the lines so soon would end up bad for the both of them.
“Oh, okay,’ she replied. “I think I get it.”
“I don’t want you to think.” He says with a shrug, ‘I want you to let me be in control.”
“What does that look like?”
Terry placed his fork down. Being questioned was one thing, but Nami genuinely wanted to understand so he couldn’t be upset that she didn’t have blind faith. If anything, he was elated to know she wasn’t going to lie and take whatever he gave her, though he hoped the moment he sunk into her p-
Pinching the bridge of his nose, Terry blew out a breath. “Following my rules. You’ve been good at no panties. That’s more so for me.” He smirks. “The way your ass shakes when you walk by me is undeniable. Know that I am looking at your ass.”
Nami reached down and tugged on her shirt. “I like making you squirm.” He lowers his voice, the rich baritone sent shivers down Nami’s spine. “I like how wet you get when I touch you. I want you to know I can easily make you feel good. If you listen to me.”
“Are there more rules?”
“You know my rule on what color to wear with me. If you don’t have enough I will take you out shopping.”
Nami nodded.
“No alcohol. I was worried when you went out. I’m glad you told me where you were. The location on your phone should always be shared with me.” He paused. “When I want you I want to know exactly where you are.”
“No touching me,’ he reinforced. “That is an earned privilege.”
Nami wanted to press why, but the look in his eyes changed her mind. “Yes, Sir.”
“You’ve already learned that that pussy is mine. Don’t touch it without my permission.” He wanted her wet and weeping by the time he fucked her. He wanted her pussy sore from just the thought of getting fucked.
Their plates emptied quickly and Nami sipped on her water.
“Most of the spaces we will be in together, I require you to be seen and not heard.” His tone grew serious. “I frequently visit play parties, mostly to see what’s new and whether or not it’s something I would do. Usually I am alone, but you’ll be going with me. Those nights I can’t be your boyfriend.” At those parties, Terry lurked in the background. He tried to avoid being the center of attention, but once one person saw him and spread it, there was no hiding.
“Do you participate?”
“Are you interested in voyeurism? Do you like being watched?”
“No, Sir,’ she says.
“Then no. I don’t.”
He didn’t seem to mind that she realized. She tried to think of more questions but she wanted Terry to push her limits. She knew her safe word.
“Nami.”
She looked up, her curls wild as she pushed them over her shoulder and behind her ears. She was so fucking pretty. He remembered her tears and the way they ran down her cheek as her body sought more from him, betraying her displayed emotions. He wanted that again. The tears and the way her body sought more from him with each swat to her smooth skin. The way she choked on his dick the first night, how her throat just opened up to swallow him.
“Above all, I need you to trust me. You have your safe word.”
Terry was a connoisseur of the cunt, a snacker of the snatch, and his penchant for pussy currently had him staring up at his bedroom ceiling, his hands behind his head. His left leg was bent, foot planted on the bed, while another head bobbed up and down on his semi-hard dick. He hadn’t even bothered to take off his sweats, opting to just pull his dick out over the waistband. Besides, Jasmine knew what it was when he called. There was a muffled sigh of frustration before the girl, an old girlfriend who was all too excited to get his call, sat up.
“I’m pulling out all the stops,’ she says before glancing down at his dick. Just laying there, fucking lifeless. “Are you even enjoying it?”
“Maybe if you shut all that fucking humming up I would have.” Terry had forgotten how vocal she was in bed. It was annoying, like those fake moans in porn type of annoying. Just sounds, no emotions, and she barely had a fucking thought behind those eyes.
Pushing her off, he threw his legs over the side of the bed, tucking himself away. Jasmine folded her arms across her chest, her anger settling into her features.
“Are you serious?”
“It’s never nothing to remind you who you are talking to, Jasmine.” He barely turned his head to her, his broad shoulders rolling as if her tone slapped him in the back.
“Yeah, that’s why we fucking broke up. You know I don’t fuck with that shit, Terry.” Jasmine snaps.
She gets off the bed, reaching down for the dress she wore over. Its green and blue design was suddenly ugly. What happened to yell-
Terry caught himself, grit his teeth together, and exhaled. Jasmine was still running off at the mouth when he came down from his sudden high of her and their previous night together, he corrected the history she was trying to reframe.
“No, I left you because you thought insubordination was cute.”
“I ain’t one of your lil’ cadets, either nigga,’ she lashes out. “You called me!”
“I called you to fuck, not to hear you speak.” He replies nonchalantly with a soft shrug of his shoulders.
“You’re so fucking mean,’ she says.
Terry shrugged off the comment, shoving his hands into his pockets while they stared at each other. He was mean. He knew that but he wasn’t cruel. He could have easily told Jasmine that his dick was sucked so good last night she’d never be able to top it. Now that, he thought, was cruel.
“Then leave. You knew the type of nigga I was when you met me. Ain’t shit change over here by these drawls.”
With each word that fell from his lips, he took a step towards her. Movements so slow and fluid that by the time he’d gotten close to her she was unable to move. He was a certified asshole, but he wasn’t a man to argue with. Not that she was afraid, his control was impeccable and the only thing he would hit her with was his words, and they hit hard. He feasted on insecurities for self defense and the way he could undress her to the point she didn’t need to be naked to feel exposed should be studied.
When they were good it was amazing. His dominance was a turn on and it made his affection addicting. It was just that darker side of him she didn’t like. Jumping through the hoops for some dick was never her steeze. No matter how fine the man was. Fuck. Terry was fione. He just wasn’t relationship material unless she conformed to what he wanted. Getting his call after a year had been a surprise and a part of her thought he had changed. Delusional, but she rather his dick made her that way then the way he acted. So she came over. She should have known he was on some bullshit.
“Right. Bye Terry.”
When he heard the door to his apartment close he shut his eyes. Calling her had been his first mistake of the night. One he was not going to make again.
Nami was in his head causing an uncomfortable disruption. A new submissive always brought about a high for him. One he rode days after, but this, this seared his mind in a way his body reacted at the thought of her. There was something else there and the moment she showed it to him he was going to pounce.
Snatching up his phone, he left his bedroom while shooting out a single text.
Nami the following night was catching up with her friend. She was also in the lifestyle, but was already with a dominant.
“So, how was it?”
“Intense.”
Mona nodded. She had heard of Terry within the community. He wasn’t a typical pleasure seeking Dom. Doms out there wanted to be like Terry. He was the pinnacle of what control looked like and it wasn’t an all too compatible style of play. However, she could see that Nami enjoyed herself.
“He just fucked my throat.”
“Damn.”
Nami reached up and rubbed her throat as if she could feel the remnants of his hands being there.
“How did it feel,’ she asked.
“His hand should be a necklace.”
“Oh, you’re a sub sub.” Mona laughed. “I can see the whimsical look in your eyes. Do not fantasize about your Dom. That’s like rule number one if you want to keep some identity.”
“We met before last night,’ she admitted. She didn’t disclose the whole story to Mona because sometimes her friend could be a little tough. She had good advice, but was so rough about it.
“Oh?” She purses her lips. “And?”
“He knows the type of relationship and dominant I’m looking for and still told me to come over last night.”
“And you think he’s interested in you for his new submissive?” She scoffed.
“Wait,’ Nami says, slightly offended, ‘what is that supposed to mean Mona?”
Sensing an argument Mona had to be careful with her words.
“I didn’t mean it like that. Terry is known to circle the block on an old submissive if he’s not happy with the current one. No one wants his sloppy seconds so the girls tend to avoid him.”
“You make him sound a like dog,’ she replied.
“Look, Terry is a fucking saint around here. These niggas wanna be like him. He’s that good at what he does. But he’s so lowkey everyone knows when he’s active. You never see him with a sub in public.”
“So?”
“He’s, picky.”
Nami wasn’t understanding why any of this was relevant. She knew that much about Terry, it wasn’t hard to discover with the way forums were dedicated to him on the site. She had spoken to him about it.
“Again, aren’t we all?”
Nami tried not to think too much into Mona’s words. She fell more along the switch side. She didn’t have the same view on what it meant to be a submissive either. A dominant like Terry was exactly what Nami wanted. But her friend’s words cut a little. What was wrong with her that she was so surprised Terry was interested? She pushed the conversation aside as they got ready. Another friend was celebrating her birthday and they had plans to go out.
When they arrived at the club, the line was out the door, but Mona knew the bouncer and he let them in easily. Jumpin’ Jumpin’ played over the speakers as the theme of the night as 90s/2000s. Nami felt the music course through her as they wove in and out the crowd towards a section decorated in pink and silver balloons. Birthday girl, Janae was dressed in a tight red dress and heels that made her long legs longer. Sexy didn’t do her justice.
“Aye!” Janae screamed when she noticed Nami had come. “You of all people got out of the house?”
A homebody, Nami did more studying for her Masters than studying masters in the club, pun intended. She was only a semester away from it and her focus was laser like. Her night with Terry had been a relief in more ways that one.
“Yeah, I got her lazy ass out the house,’ Mona interjected, snatching up a red cup.
Liquor was poured and Mona noticed Nami wasn’t taking any. Mona’s jaw ticked. It was very clear why. Instead of respecting that boundary, she pushed a cup into Nami’s hands.
“Take a shot!”
Nami’s eyes widened. She could smell the alcohol in the cup and shook her head. “No, no, no, I’m good!”
Mona begged, even pulling Janae into the fray to pressure her. Nami wasn’t going to budge, it wasn’t like she was a drinker anyway. Nami was about to lose her cool when her phone vibrated. She pulled it out and turned away from them when she noticed who the text was from.
Terry: What are you doing?
She placed the cup down, her fingers typing across the keyboard on her screen. The music switched to a song from Nelly and the back of her dressed was tugged on.
Nami: Stacy’s. A friends birthday.
“Bitch, at least dance with us!” Mona wanted to swipe the phone, but Nami had locked it and tucked it into her top.
Eventually, she found herself on top of the bar, slightly sweaty dancing to Beyonce’s song RIIVERDANCE.
Bounce on that shit, dance (Dance)
Bounce on that shit, dance
Nami didn’t need alcohol to let loose, however, being sober made her hyper aware of her surroundings and there was a chill creeping up her spine as her knees bent and she bounced to the music’s beat with enough precision to make Meg Thee Stallion proud.
Bounce on that shit, dance (Dance)
Bounce on that shit, no hands
Janae had grabbed Nami’s hands, holding them above her head as she worked her hips back and forth, the twerk sum’ serious that Janae could only laugh and hype her up. Mona was behind her, phone in hand recording. This was the Nami they had grown up with. Wild. Fun.
She was lost in the attention, enjoying how eyes were on her, but the back of her neck tingled again and she rose up, swaying side to side to end her little show. Another girl took center stage. A young girl celebrating her pending wedding. She had a white sash and crown, taking the former off to twirl it around in the air. Nami took her eyes off the scene for a second, needing to get off the bar before she slipped on a newly spilled drink. She was lowering herself to step into the stool pushed under the bar after pulling it back out. Head down, she placed her foot in the chair only for it to be pushed off and her arm yanked. She fell into a hard body, confused at the aggression.
“What the fuck,’ she yelled, looking up and wishing she hadn’t. “Oh, Sir.”
“Nah,’ he said, his eyes narrowed as he looked down at her. “Whatchu doing?”
She searched his eyes for the answer, mouth slack because she didn’t know what to say to him. She didn’t know what to tell him. There was no rule in play that she couldn’t be here. While she thought of her answer, Terry reached out and touched the top of her dress. His finger dipped into it, stroking between her breasts. Nami noticed his hand flex, as if he wanted to wrap it around her throat.
“The music isn’t that loud you can’t hear me.”
His black fit was capped off with black boots, the toe of them right up against her heels. Nami’s breath quickened. Terry’s hand dropped to her waist, smoothed around her back and grabbed a handful of her ass.
“At least you listened there,’ he replied.
She hadn’t touched him. No panties. She hadn’t drank anything.
“Whatchu got on?” He asked. “Let me see.” He grabs her wrist and holds her arm up, turning it so she could spin in a circle.
Nami looked down at herself. All she saw was a pink dress and hee-
Oh shit.
Yellow is your color. Remember that.
“It’s cute. I will give you that.”
He licked his lips, imaging their previous encounter all over again now that she was in front of him in the flesh. The supple, sweet smelling, glistening flesh. Nami reached up, wiping at some of the sweat around her hairline.
“Thank you,’ she whispered. “Sir.”
“I wasn’t giving you a compliment.”
If Terry was angry it was hard to tell. He took her chin in his hands, pulling her forwards.
“I had a real good scene planned for you,’ he admits with a sigh, the music shifting to a slow song. Terry stepped closer to her, pulling her body into his. “But, you slipped up. I have to correct that.”
His head lowered and though she didn’t think he was going to kiss her, she tilted her head back just to see his eyes. Terry slotted his lips over hers, drawing her into a kiss that made her knees weak. He held her by the chin and she clenched her hands at her sides.
Up on the bar, Mona had noticed Terry the moment he walked in the building. He was taller than most of the people in here and no one had eyes like him. She looked over to her friend Nami who was trying to get down from the bar. Terry had stalked her, snatching her down in a way that made her own snatch purr. To see someone like Terry kissing someone like Nami had her feeling some type of way. She thought she was everything a dominant wanted. Loose curls, caramel skin, thick, how could he not? Nami was pretty, Mona thought, but she wasn’t that pretty. When she had first learned Nami was talking to Terry she thought Nami was lying, she still did, until this moment. Seeing Terry shove his tongue in Nami’s mouth made Mona turn red.
“Why are you frowning like that,’ Janae says above the music.
She looked in the direction Mona was looking and her mouth made the ‘oooo’ shape. “Waymin’ who is sucking on her mouth like that! Aye! Go NAMI! Go NAMI!” Janae stumbled a little bit, tipsy from the four shots of Crown she had. “Let me tell Michael to suck my lip like that.”
As if he heard, Terry pulled away from Nami and looked over his shoulder, a wicked grin on his face.
“Birthday girl,’ he says. Nami nods, touching her lips. Their second kiss was just as good as the first. “You want to stay or go with me?”
Something told her to stay and not be that friend that left when her….man, showed up. However, Nami knew Terry wasn’t asking her to pick. The choice was clear.
“I’m ready to go,’ she says, unsure of what was waiting for her, but her pussy tingled with the thought of finding out. “We can go.”
“Patience.” He says.
Terry left her there and walked towards Janae and Mone. Nami watched as he beckoned her with two fingers to bend down to him. Held between two of his own fingers was a roll of bills held with a rubber band. She looked at his mouth as Janae wrapped her hand around the gift. Nami wasn’t mad about the money. Janae touched him, placed her hand on his shoulder in thanks. Too drunk to realize anything other than being able to buy more drinks. Her friend had a man and was dedicated, but Mona also reached out and touched Terry. Right on his bicep, her nails raking down his skin as he flirted with his big ass smile. Nami licked her lips and folded her arms over her chest. Mona knew what she was doing and Nami knew that. Their talk from earlier crept up into her thoughts and she suddenly felt insecure.
This was a hard boundary even though she hadn’t expressed it, but it was like he knew. Terry turned to look at her and gathered she wasn’t too happy by the way she looked at him speaking to Mona specifically.
Terry is known to circle the block on an old submissive if he’s not happy with the current one.
Nami knew Mona wasn’t an old submissive. She’d never go after the same one her friend had used. But it made her wonder if he had rejected her. Yet, it didn’t matter, seeing her hand on his arm made her face warm and not with anger or jealousy. Mona was a gorgeous girl, she turned heads every time she stepped in a room.
He’s picky.
Maybe he had picked wrong.
She felt like an idiot. The night before suddenly felt meaningless. He had been right. Why did she think she could find a full blown relationship and a dominant? On the same site? She could barely find the former offline. He was making her look stupid. Once she saw him laugh, it had become too much. She turned on her heels and disappeared into the dancing bodies, heading for the exit.
That was when Mona pulled away, slightly satisfied she showed Nami the kind of man Terry was. Well, at least she thought. He had already noticed the way Mona stared at Nami, the hate etched into her furrowed brows when he turned around to see them staring after their kiss.
“Come down,’ he says, hand out to help Mona stand before him.
When she was standing before him his smile dropped and so did the bottom of Mona’s stomach. His eyes narrowed as he leaned forward, his lips by her ear. He had his hands in his pockets but she could feel the reach of his words caressing her ear.
“Do some petty shit like that again.”
“What?” Mona says, flustered.
“Don’t act as dumb as you look.” She swallowed the lump forming in her throat. “Call your Dom.” He says. He looks over but doesn’t see Nami and his irritation grows to frustration, but he keeps his cool. “Now.”
“Why,’ Mona whispered, suddenly understanding the gravity of her mistake. She knew she crossed a line touching him, especially knowing he was active.
“Call him and put him on speaker.”
He was impatient while she fumbled to pull out her phone. She dialed the familiar number and placed it on speaker.
“Ready to come home already, kitten,’ his voice said, oblivious to the pair on the other end of the line.
“She actually is.” Terry replied. “She’s coming to tell you how much of a disrespectful insecure bitch she is.” He chuckled darkly, watching Mona’s face drop.
“Terry?” The voice changed to something serious. “Dude, what’s going on? Mona you there?”
“She’s here, looking stupid of course.” Terry straightens his shoulders. He had some ground to cover in finding Nami so he left Mona and her Dom with this. “I want you to hear me when I tell her this. Are you listening?”
“Yeah,’ he replied.
Terry was silent and the correction came quickly.
“I mean, yes, Sir.” He added. “I’m listening.”
“If she ever puts her hands on me without permission again to make my submissive feel,’ Terry kissed his teeth slowly trying to pick his words carefully, ‘unwanted, I will bring her to you and show you what discipline looks like.”
Nami was two blocks away from somewhere when she saw headlights. A black Mercedes G-Class cut her off before she could cross another street. The driver’s door opened and Terry slid out, an unamused look on his face.
“I don’t like chasing,’ he says. “Don’t make me do it again.”
He opens the passenger door after pulling her towards the car. She was stumbling in her heels and he stopped her, made her kick them off and tossed them in the trash.
“Get in the car.”
She wasn’t sure who he was right now. Was he her Dominate? Her……they never defined the other half of their relationship and Mona’s words ringing in her head caused another flood of tears.
Once she was in the warm car, Terry made a sharp U-turn back towards his side of town, his house a thirty minute drive from downtown. He eased into a Whataburger drive through and looked at her.
“You have thirty minutes to speak freely, Nami. After that your punishment still stands.”
“Patty melt, tea, no fries, spicy ketchup.” He placed the order and pulled forward, coming to a stop behind a white truck. “Are you mad at me?”
“I was never mad,’ he says, though anger coursed through his veins at the entirety of the situation. From her wearing the wrong color out to the way her friend acted to get a rise out of her, seeing the tears he realized how well it worked.
“What happened?” He asked. “I know she said something to you.”
Wiping her face, she went to rub it off on the pink dress when Terry reached between her legs to open the dash. He placed tissue in her lap and then reached behind the seat for his jacket. His scent filled her nose and she watched the way the muscles in his neck flex as he stretched his head to see.
“Take that shit off,’ he says. “Tell me what was said.”
“There’s a zipper tucked into the back. I can’t reach it,’ she gave him a pleading look. “Can you help me?”
His arm reached out, touching the back of her neck before his fingers dug around the top for the gold zipper. When he yanked it down, he watched the material fall into her lap, her full breast bouncing out. She wiggled out of the dress and pushed it to the floor of the car. Fully naked, he passed her the jacket and right as she was zipping it up he pulled to the pay window.
“I’m waiting,’ he said.
“She asked me about our session last night. I told her-’
Terry grabbed his card back, lifting his foot of the break to ease forward. “What did you tell her about it?”
Of course he wanted his ego stroked. It was why he texted her in the first place. Dealing with this shit wasn’t part of the plan.
“I said,’ she drawled, smelling the food from the window, ‘that your hand should be a necklace. I enjoyed it.”
“That isn’t why you have been crying.” He grabbed her food and passed it to her. He saw her about to stick her hand in the bag and shook his head. “The only thing that gets eaten in my car is pussy. Tell me what she said that made you leave and walk two blocks away from me.”
Placing the bag on the floor between her feet, Nami tugs on the hem of the jacket. Out of scene, his words sounded more lewd, her thighs rubbed together at such thought.
“It was mostly about how you’re picky. That you are known to circle back to old submissives when the new one isn’t making you happy.”
It made sense why Mona touched him now. He gripped the steering wheel, his plan for tomorrow needing a bit of fine tuning. Though, his palm itched at his lesson for the night. He’d been feening to get his hands on her in some way.
“What else?”
“She asked me if I actually thought you wanted me as a submissive.” Nami swallowed.
They arrived at his house in silence.
“I want you to get inside and eat. Water is in the fridge.” He grabbed her tea and opened his car door.
When he came around the other side and saw her pushing the door open he pushed it closed. Nami looked at him through the window confused.
“This door is an extension of me,” he replied, after opening it for her.
Nami nodded and slid out of the lifted car. Barefoot she reached back into the car for her phone and the remains of her outfit. Terry had her food in his hand, the tea tossed out, and led her towards the side door where the garage was. When she came over the previous night she had come in through the front which led right into the living room where she had spent the next two hours choking on dick. His kitchen was pristine, white subway tiles, black accents and appliances. The coffee maker had been used and the aroma of a rich dark roast filled her nose. He placed her food on the counter and pulled a stool from under it.
Nami took the offered seat, her feet swinging at her sides. She found the microwave and noticed the clock read 1:02 am. Had that much time really passed? Hungry, despite the time, Nami tore the melt in half and dipped it into the ketchup, the savory taste soothing all the cravings for melted cheese and meat she had all week.
Terry stood there as she ate, watched the way she rocked side to side, her face was stained with mascara.
“Take off the jacket when you’re done then sit on the couch, hands under your thighs.”
He left her there, retreating to his room and closing the door. She didn’t want to rush, but she slid from the stood and grabbed one of the waters he had meticulously arranged in two straight lines. The same could be said for the Gatorade, two red bulls, and four bottle of orange juice. There was an assortment of meat in thick butcher paper and she wondered what it was.
Not wanting to get caught, Nami twisted the cap off and drank half of it, tossing the crust of her sandwich in the trash. She washed her hands and face, getting rid of the black makeup streaks. Going to the couch, she placed his jacket on the loveseat next to it and took a seat. Her hands were cold under her thighs and she waited for him to come back out.
Her toes rubbed against the plush carpet and for the first time she realized it was white. There was a wooden table in the center of it with several hooks bolted to it.
“Nami.”
Terry stepped out of the bedroom, shirtless with his sweats low on his hips. She’d seen him naked, but half naked was doing something to her. She straightened her posture and looked up at him.
“Yes Sir?”
His hands were behind his back, but she did recognize the cuffs from last night in his hands.
“I need your consent for the night.” He walked over to sit on the table in front of her. “Tell me I can use you. Tell me I have your full consent.” He leaned forward, his forearms on his thighs as he looked her in the eyes. “To punish you.”
Nami dug her feet into the carpet. Eventually she opened her mouth. “Please use me, Sir. You have my consent.”
He waited.
“To punish me.”
This time she noticed the switch flipping. The way his face dropped and became indifferent almost. Detached.
“I’m not mad about you going out. I could have let the pink outfit slide, but you left and made me chase you. I realized our boundaries are too flexible.” He held her chin in his hand, brushing his thumb across her bottom lip. “I had wanted to call you over. I wanted you on your knees sucking me off,’ he says, standing up, ‘but, we have to deal with your punishment.”
He brought the handcuffs into view and unhooked them, placing the key on the table. “I need you to check in with me if it becomes too much, okay?”
“Yes Sir,’ she says, unsure of what he was about to do.
The anticipation set in her belly in a way that it churned. She looked up at him as he pulled her right arm out. The cuffs were cold and tight, much tighter than last night. He did the same with the left arm, locking them together at the wrists so they faced together. She linked her fingers and he pulled her to her feet. He lined her up with the table and tapped the back of her thighs.
“Kneel,’ he pulled her arms over the table afterwards, a second hook locked onto the cuffs, stretching her out over the table. It was cold against her chest and she scooted her hips closer to the table’s edge for some relief.
Terry sat behind her and smoothed his hands over her back.
“You good?”
“Yes Sir.”
His hand came down on her left ass cheek, loudly filling the room with a slapping sound followed by her scream. “Count them, you have nineteen more to go.”
“One,’ she whined, the sting warming her cheek.
”One what,’ he growled. “Get it right or I will start over.” He smoothed his hand over her ass, even leaning down to kiss where he first struck. “I can and will do this all night until you do.”
“Sir, one, Sir!”
He struck her four more times, alternating each cheek in a bruising rhythm her body couldn’t get used to. He smacked her ass upwards, watching it jiggle, then downwards to inflict that stinging pain.
“Five, Sir, I-’ she choked, face wet from crying.
Instead of stopping him, she was soaked. Terry had noticed the way her pussy glistened two slaps ago. She enjoyed the pain. She began rubbing her thighs together, seeking friction for some relief.
His hand wove into her hair and yanked her head back. “Keep that shit still.”
He held her in the arch, landing smack after smack to her bare ass.
“How many?” He asked roughly, the red marks on her ass matched the shape of his fingers, they were rising into welts.
Nami was a crying mess on the table. The arch in her back was verging on pain as Terry dipped his fingers between her legs, stroking her sopping pussy.
“Seventeen, Sir,’ she croaked.
“Almost done.” He said soothingly. “Daddy’s almost done.” He felt her pussy flutter against his palm after that, noting that for later usage.
He struck her again, then asked. “What are you sorry for?”
“Pink,’ she hissed, ‘I….left..”
Terry laughed, her voice was so broken, weak, tired. “Count.”
“Eighteen, Sir.”
He let her hair go and she flopped to the table, head pressing into the wood. Nami’s arms burned from the stretch.
“You’ve made a mess on my carpet,’ he states, as if he didn’t have it cleaned daily. “Wet ass pussy needs to be getting fucked right now.”
He moved behind her, pressing his length against her cunt. He tugged her hips back, knowing it was pulling on her arms. He mimicked the motion of fucking her, coating the front of his sweat with her slick. Nami did her best to let him lead, trying not to take too much initiative and roll her hips backwards, but it felt too good.
Ever perceptive, Terry struck her left ass cheek, his favorite of the night, and she bit down on her lip, drawing a little blood.
“Nineteen!” Nami gasped, trying to catch her breath, the delay between the slaps scrambled her brain. “Sir…, please,’ she croaked.
“Be still.”
He continued rutting against her, his tip leaking and creating a dark spot on his sweats. Terry leaned forward, kissing up her sweaty back. “Imagine how deep I could be in this pussy,’ he licked the shell of her ear. “You like this shit don’t you?” He asked.
She wasn’t entirely sure. The pain was unbearable, but her cunt was clenching and was seeking something from Terry she knew he wasn’t going to give her.
“You should see how this ass looks. All red and shit.” He mewled. “Why you letting me spank you like this?” He joked. “Fuck.” He did not want it to end, but he could see the way Nami was losing her grip on reality.
“A’ight,’ he crooned, ‘I’ll let up.”
Nami tried to lift her head when she felt Terry stand up. The friction he had given her seconds ago was replaced with the chilly air of the living room. Her thighs quaked and she thought there was a reprieve. Instead, he smacked her one last time, harder than the previous nineteen, and the air shot out of her lungs. Her lower body rolled to the side from the impact as if she could run from the sting.
“Tw-twen-tty,’ she hiccuped, ‘Sir.”
She was left again and she couldn’t count how long, but it had been at least five minutes before he came back. The hook holding her out the table was released, but she didn’t move. Terry placed his hands on her shoulders and down her arms, bending them slowly to help her sit up. Her face was a mess of dried tears and fresh ones. She looked pitiful and his dick jumped.
He pecked her lips and brought her to her knees. He pushed the waistband of his sweat down and had a fist full of his dick when his phone blared, the only alarm that would go off was one for work that he couldn’t turn off.
He looked down at Nami, her hands bound in front of her and her body shaking from the after effects of her punishment.
“Wait right here,’ he huffed, pissed he was interrupted. His phone read 2:35, and when he answered the call he tucked the phone between his ear and shoulder.
“What they fuck do you want this early Bridges?”
One of his cadets. It was always one of the cadets, fucking shit up at the worst time. He walked back to Nami, sitting on the couch with his legs spread. He beckoned her over and she scooted on her knees, the scratch of the carpet irritating her skin. She watched as he pulled out his dick, hard, and how it slapped against his stomach.
His brow lifted and she leaned forward, wrapping her mouth around his leaking head. One hand came to the back of her head as he used her mouth again.
She couldn’t hear the other end of the conversation but Terry wasn’t pleased.
“If I have to come on base. I will personally beat his ass.” Terry suddenly leaned forward, his dick sliding past her tongue. “Hold on,’ he says, taking the phone from his ear to address her. “Swallow that shit right Nami.”
He waited for her to balance herself. Hands curled in her hair and held her mouth still as he fucked up into it.
A low fuck fell from his mouth. She sucked his swollen head, looking up at him a s she licked from base to tip, swallowing as much as she could in one go. His eyes were closed and his head was lolled back on the couch, his mouth was moving, a grunt interrupting his conversation every so often. Nami hollowed her cheeks and his hips bucked upwards, filling her mouth.
“Shit,’ he cursed.
He scooted further down the couch, slouching but bracing his feet on the floor. He held the phone with his shoulder and dug both hands into her head. He prattled off some acronyms she didn’t know the meaning to and braced herself.
“I might let you swallow tonight,’ he mused, fuck his phone conversation.
Her mouth felt like velvet, warm and wet. Terry rolled his hips, holding her head still so he could slide deep into her throat again. He heard a little gagging, but kept going, letting her saliva dribble down his balls to the couch. He pulled her up halfway and pushed back down, using her throat like a toy.
“I know that pussy is sopping wet," he says, hanging up on his cadet.
Terry tossed his phone to the couch, never stopping his face fucking, and reached down Nami’s back to palm her ass. Nose pressed up against his pelvis, she choked as he smacked her right cheek, grabbing hold of it and shaking. He did the other side, knowing she was sore, and hummed as she whimpered around his dick. The sounds she made felt good. When her shoulders started to slump, he pulled her off, thick strings of spit connected them and he licked his lips at the sight.
“Pretty ass.” He mumbled. “You could have been choking on this dick the whole night, but," he says standing, "you let some other broad tell you about me.”
He, for the second time that night, shoved his dick back into his sweats. He lowered to his haunches and grabbed her throat. His thumb rubbing along her neck. A slow smile crept over his lips before he kissed her.
“You good,’ he murmured.
“Yes, Sir.”
She was starting to think it was the only words she knew. It was a mantra at this point.
summary: nami joins a bdsm community in hopes of finding a dominator/partner. she manages to snag Terry Richmond the most sought after and picky dominant in the community of their city.
dividers/warning graphics by @cafekitsune and @firefly-graphics images found on google, template on canva
“How do you feel about me dressing you?” He asked, his eyes were bright as they sat in a bar catered to those of the BDSM lifestyle.
The Munch had long been over, but Terry’s interest in her had stayed. When he told Nami where to meet him for the first time she was hesitant. Taking the ‘relationship’ offline was frightening and made it real.
She sat across from him in a yellow milkmaid dress, bare of jewelry, and flats; an ode to the 2000s, because what the fuck? Her hair was up, the brown curls pulled back to show her face and neck. He requested a manicure and she opted for ballerina pink polish on her natural nails. Same with her feet. He couldn’t see them, but she was fiddling with her fingers in her lap. Everything she had on was of his choosing, delivered to her yesterday afternoon with a note.
No panties. - T
“It’s not exactly my style, but I like the color yellow.” She admitted.
Terry’s eyes crinkled around the corners as he laughed, full lips stretching over white teeth.
“The point is to keep wandering eyes away from you.” He admired the way yellow made her brown skin glow. “Yellow is your color.” He stated. “Remember that.” His voice deepened suddenly, ‘come here.”
She stood up, their little corner table sat to the right of the bar, her back to the bustling crowds coming in and out. She approached him slowly, his eyes eyeing her form and the way the dress stopped in the middle of her thighs. He leaned back in his chair, and pushed her hands to her sides. His hand slipped between her legs, rubbed up the back of her knee and thigh. His eyes stayed on hers, forcing eye contact as his palm cupped her ass, her bare cunt brushing against his wrist.
“Have you gone without them before?” He asked.
”No, first time,’ she admitted.
Terry brought his hand down, discovered she was wet, and began rubbing her slowly leaking hole. “How does it feel?”
Her face went flush, cheeks hot as she tried to find the words to speak. He had a smirk on his face and knew what he was doing was causing her to lose concentration.
“G-go-good.”
Terry dropped his hand and motioned for her to sit back down.
“Through the nose,’ he instructed. “Inhale.”
His large hand rested against her bare chest, the other guided his heavy and long dick past her tongue. He felt her chest rising and falling in rapid anticipation and still his movements. She couldn’t see them, his eyes, from her position. Back against the couch's arm rest he made her lean back over it, legs spread, and hands bound behind her back. Law & Order SVU played silently on the tv and if Olivia knew what this man was doing to her she’d call Stabler in for back up.
For a moment he just watched how she tried to calm herself down so she could take him into her mouth this way. Deep throating was his favorite.
Nami had met him on a site called Fetlife. Her curiosity about BDSM had led her to creating an account she visited on the weekends in the privacy of her home. She explored her novice sexuality and a month ago met him there. A faceless profile she had ignored because no face to the profile was a red flag.
He pulled from the warmth of her mouth, saliva coating her nose and eyes from an early attempt.
“Maybe you need an incentive.” Terry hummed. “Something else to work for until my pleasure is yours.” He stepped back from the couch, disappearing from her blurry sight.
There was some shuffling in another room. What sounded like zippers and slapping made her ears perk up.
“Nami,’ he called.
Her head turned at the sound of his voice. “Yes, Sir?” She croaked, her throat felt full though nothing was in it.
She could only reply with that phrase or her safe word. Stone. Either he had permission or he didn’t. He didn’t care for that inbetween shit. Until she called for it her body was his to do what he willed.
Naked, Terry walked over and ran a finger from her navel up between her breast, beneath her chin, and tapped at her lips. Her mouth opened and he shoved his middle and ring finger against her tongue. She tasted latex as his thick fingers stroked backwards. Her chest heaved. Terry pressed his other hand to her chest, subduing her movements.
“You better breathe through that fucking nose!” He growled. “If you throw up on my hand I will wear that ass out and send you home.”
Their appetizers had arrived first. He ordered for the table and Nami was pleasantly surprised it was just stuffed mushrooms and not oysters. He plated hers first, sliding it across the table with a fork on a napkin to her. Her water sat, half drunk, with the lemon slowly floating to the bottom. She was starting to feel like that lemon, drowning in Terry’s scent and demanding demeanor. He wasn’t ‘on’, but it felt like it. How could someone be so naturally dominant?
“You eat, I will talk. I want you to take in what I’m saying before you respond, okay?” He prompted. “It would be best if you answer according to the way I requested. I don’t like wasting my breath and time and I want to know you are listening. Active recall, understand?”
“Yes, Sir.”
“Good.” He looked down at her plate then back to her face. “Eat.”
A few bites into the mushrooms and her stomach was starting to feel better. The nerves she had were currently battling the mushroom and Parmesan breaded coating.
“I’m not an easy Dominant.” He breathed in deeply before letting it out. “I do this for pleasure of course, but when it becomes a chore then I have to reassess. I don’t expect perfection, but I require competence.”
She reached for her water, needing to cool down the flames burning between her legs. She knew this much from his profile.
“I have rules and expectations. There are also levels and lessons to be learned. With your naivety there are many things I can teach you and do to you. I will push your boundaries.” He saw she stopped eating and was actively listening to him, but there was a question in her eyes. “Ask me,’ he prompts.
She furrowed her brows and with a voice barely above a whisper looked down at her food. “I thought it was just really intense sex?”
“Getting fucked is a privilege. Me indulging in your kinks is a reward for doing what I say and want. You are here for me and not the other way around, understood?”
“Yes, Sir.”
Terry had explained that if any time she was not enjoying herself she could leave and he would end their arrangement. That she did not want. However, his posturing was intimidating. He was a man of control that wanted control.
He pushed his fingers as far as they would go and held them there. Nami’s legs snapped shut and the sensation wetting her cunt and staining the white material with moisture caused her to moan.
“Open those legs and be still.”
An ungloved hand came down on her outer right thigh. Stinging she cried out almost gagging up the dinner she had before coming over.
“Sit up.”
Nami struggled against the fingers in her mouth. Terry cupped the back of her head and guided her, still fucking her mouth in a steady pace. Tears were spilling from her brown eyes, the sight tightening a knot in Terry’s abdomen. He pulled his hand out and rubbed the spit against her chest. His grip on the back of her head tightened and he adjusted her to sit on the couch, legs spread.
“We’re going to try this again.” He pulled off the glove and tossed it aside. “When I push you swallow.”
“Yes Sir.”
“When I pull out you breathe.”
“Yes, Sir.”
“Good girl,” he smiled and the sudden change in demeanor caught Nami off guard.
“I came on a little too strong, hm?”
He gripped the base of his dick, stroking it against her lips as he stared down at her.
“Open.” His fat tip bounced against her mouth. She followed his instruction and he pushed the head just past her lips. “Suck me off.”
Her mouth was wet and nearly numb as she slurped his dick into her mouth. Heavy on her tongue she took as much of him in as she could. His hand stayed in her curls, grabbing her head tightly. Terry was thick and long. She wasn’t sure how he carried it around. Dick was all she could see when she came over. The thick behemoth between his legs had called to her all night and when he finally pulled it out for her to see he denied her permission to touch.
“The only thing you can use tonight is your mouth.” He watched her undress, the cuffs hung off his fingers. “That’s to suck my dick, safe word, or what?”
“Yes, Sir.”
“Good girl.”
Nami had to admit all of him was overwhelming. His attractiveness, his gait, his gaze, but it was his boundaries that scratched at an itch in her brain. She knew her rules for the night.
His scotch permeated the air and wet his lips as he sipped it. Seconds later he tossed it back, the glass landing on the coffee table with a soft thud.
When she had arrived the first thing he did was instruct her to bend over. He stood behind her and lifted her dress, her bare ass flashed him before his hand came down in a teasing slap. Couldn’t help myself. He had said.
Terry interrupted her recalling with a hard shove of his dick past the back of her tongue. Her nose pushed against the dusting of pubic hair around his base and she struggled against the binds on her hands and the grip on the back of her head.
“Breathe.” He demanded. “Calm down and breathe for me.”
Through teary eyes she looked up at him. His face was expressionless as he looked down at her. It took her a few seconds but she began to swallow. It was hard at first. He was so hard already. She had to find the willpower to hold off her vomit. He began to move slowly, pumping his hips forward and back inch by inch until she had a rhythm to match his.
“Look up at me," he said slowly, "let me see you suck my dick like a good girl.”
She wanted so badly to touch him. But he left her wrists cuffed behind her back. Her shoulders were beginning to burn from the position and even bending them was a strain to hold. Her eyes were blurry and visionless at this point, but she turned them up to him. All she could hear was his heavy controlled breathing. Precum began leaking from his tip and on a slow drag out she tasted it on her tongue. He paused. She swallowed.
“Look at that,’ he cooed, ‘opened that shit right up. You want to please me don’t you, baby, hm?”
He pulled out just to hear her speak, though the large gasp of air and outpour of spit from her lips was a much prettier sight. It all landed on her chest, coating her chocolate colored nipples in a mixture of him and her. Filthy.
“Yes, Sir.”
He guided her head back and she opened her mouth for another onslaught, but he took his time. Sliding across her tongue in a a mocking way. His hips would jerk back as she tried to close her mouth around him. He could see the slight agitation on her spit covered face as he played in her mouth.
He thrust forward and though there was a little retch in her throat, she took him fully. Terry held her head still, enjoying the clenching of her throat around his dick. He could feel the air from her nose being sucked in and released against his lower abdomen.. Between her legs, the same was happening as her pussy clenched around nothing, but dripped down to the floor, dripping like a slow leaking faucet.
Terry pumped his hips, chasing his pending orgasm. Her knees dug into the floor, trying to balance herself as he clutched her head in his hands. Her curls were tangled around his long fingers as he pistoned his hips, fucking her mouth to his pleasure.
“Imagine the ways I could fuck that pussy,’ he said, while stroking her throat. “Such a good girl,’ he added, ‘I just might reward you tonight.” He murmured, while licking his thick lips. The praise made her gulp around his dick and it jumped in her mouth.
Terry yanked back, balls clenched as he grit his teeth together. The sudden squeeze against his already sensitive tip made his toes curl into his carpet. A low curse on his lips. She was a visual mess and Nami used the time his dick was hanging in front of her face to breathe.
“You trying to make me nut already?”
Nami coughed but smiled slightly. She was sure she looked crazy.
“Get back on the couch.”
Terry lifted her by her hair and turned her to face the couch. She moved to the couch before Terry stopped her and sat her in front of it.
His hand smacked her cheek lightly breaking her from her delirium.
“Talk to me, baby. How are you feeling?”
Nami was hoarse and breathing heavy. She blinked through the blur and looked up at him, standing before her like he was some God seeking devotion.
Her only reply? “Yes, Sir.”
Terry smiled. “You just might earn more words.” He stroked his dick as he watched her, her saliva coating his hands as he swapped them.
Not liking the way she was positioned he moved her back to the couch, her head dangling over the side. Her blunt nails dug into the couch behind her back. Terry spread her legs, dragging two fingers through her swollen and dripping cunt. He brought them to his mouth and she watched him suck them clean with a satisfied hum.
“The day I taste that pussy is the day I’ll know God is real.” He came to stand behind her, dick flat on her face and his balls pressed to her forehead. “Spread your legs and open your mouth.”
Terry pulled her back further, the arch making her hiss, and slid back into her mouth. He stilled and reached down, smacking her pussy a few times, enjoying the way her fat lips shook. Nami started to squirm and pulled against her binds. Observant, Terry began to move fucking into her throat at a slow pace.
Ten minutes after the mushrooms, two bowls were placed in the table. Cacio e pepe. They both ate in silence for a few minutes, sharing looks across the table. He was trying to read her face and she was trying to avoid looking him in the eyes too much. In the photos he shared with her they were hazel, in the afternoon sunlight they were currently tipping the scales of blue.
She nervously tapped her fork against the bowl, the ceramic creating a ringing sound.
“What’s on your mind,’ he cut through the silence abruptly.
“Do you have other submissives?”
His lips turned downward for a millisecond and if she hadn’t been watching his lips she would have missed it. Terry placed his fork down and took a sip from his own glass, a long island. She could smell the alcoholic beverage from her side of the table. He was a drinker. An image of her sucking his dick as he drank flashed in her head and she snapped her legs closed.
“I have done a few scenes.”
In the local community he was a sought after dominate and tended to avoided play parties because he knew the outcome. They would clamor over their own feet for his attention, circling him like vultures on a dead carcass.
The woman in front of him wanted more than that and he knew her question was leading. Not everyone could disconnect from their dominate after a scene. Some wanted the sporadic attention then go about their lives. What she wanted was a bit more domestic and monogamous. He knew that. Her little profile had that in bold letters at the top and bottom of her bio. Fetlife wasn’t the best place to find a dating partner and a dominate, but Terry could oblige. It had been a while since he had a partner. In more ways than one. The ex-Marine watched her finish her meal, his palms itching to touch her again.
“You want a permanent situation.”
“Yes, Sir.”
“Do you think it was smart using Fetlife?” He asked.
“I’m hoping you aren’t going to make me look stupid for using it.”
Terry’s lip curved upwards at her quick response. “We’ll see how your first lesson goes with me, compatibility in this area is important. It’s not a part of me that I can turn off.”
His dick twitched in her mouth.
Terry had one foot on the couch and the other between her legs, his hands gripped her head as his dick plunged in and out of her mouth. He was trying to edge himself, but she had learned quickly on how to breathe and it was difficult fighting against the squeeze of her throat. When she whined around him his control slipped. Terry rode her face, using one hand on the back of the couch to balance his weight. He brought her head towards his pelvis to met his thrusts, her gagging a melody as he hummed and chased his orgasm. When it was on the cusp his toes dug into the fabric of the carpet and floor. Elation spread through his long limbs, including the one choking his submissive.
His submissive.
His……
Terry let his body claim his submissives. There had been very few that could elicit a primal and feral response from him. He always sought his completion, wanting to cum on or in them but the woman in his clutches had to earn it and he was more than willing to teach her. However long it took. Until she was pliant and could read his body and knew what he needed so he could give her what she craved.
She felt his balls tightening as they slapped against her chin. She wanted to badly to touch him, rub her hands up his thick thighs, grip the muscles of his ass to draw him deeper into her mouth. She wanted to swallow him whole in his entirety. Her body tingled at the thought of him chasing his heights. Used in a way she felt like a toy utilized for his pleasure. A good girl.
“You’ve done so good,’ he grunted, yanking out of her mouth.
She coughed, throat sore from the onslaught, but he held her head back, rapidly stroking his dick in front of her face. Thinking he was going to cum in her mouth, she opened it back up and stuck out her tongue. Terry laughed through his moans.
“Nahhh,’ he grunted. “You have to earn that.”
Thick, hot, ropes of his cum landed on her neck and chest. The sudden warmth made her jump but she relaxed as he covered her neck in his load. Heavy breathing between the two of them lasted long enough for his cum to cool on her skin creating that sticky feeling as it ran down her chest. Lips swollen, she pulled her bottom lip between her teeth, still tasting some of him. She would well until tomorrow night.
He looked down between her legs, the floor was wet from her pussy leaking so much. Her inner thighs drenched and her clit swollen just waiting to be sucked on. He wanted to lie on his stomach in front of her as she was and lick her clean, but his restraint took him backwards to the guest bedroom. When he returned, she was still waiting for him, legs open and her body relaxed from being able to catch her breath.
His aftercare was simple; a warm rag wiped the remnants of his cum on her body. Helping her up, he pressed their chests together while he un-cuffed her, her shoulders slumped forward and she whimpered in pain from being able to move them freely again.
“Go get in the tub.”
He had cleaned himself up she noticed. Black sweats and a matching shirt covered him from her would be wandering eyes. Following behind her, she noticed clothes on the bed, water, and a bottle of Tylenol. Once inside the steaming bathroom, she made her way to the tub, using the edge to get herself in. Terry helped her sit, and the hot water soothe the aches in her body. He checked in with her, asking if she was okay and what she did and didn’t like about their session.
“Was I too rough?” He asked, thinking back to how he had spoken to her. He had gotten so lost in his element that he hadn’t been sure if she was okay with being spoken to that way.
She shook her head, moving the water up so it splashed against her throat. Terry reached behind him for a bottle water he had brought into the bathroom. Uncapping it, he held it to her lips, needing no instruction she opened her mouth, swallowing the room temperature water with ease.
“You did well,’ he hummed, hands dipping into the water and descending between her legs. “How close were you to cumming for me?”
His middle finger slipped into her cunt, stroking a fire that hadn’t fizzled out yet.
“So close,’ she sighed.
He added his thumb, stroking her engorged clit in tandem with his strokes. “Hm.”
Terry pulled his hand away and grabbed her throat. He pulled her in, lips dangerously close to hers. “But you knew not to?”
“Yes, Sir.”
He finally graced her with a kiss, his lips full against hers. Languidly, Terry kissed her and used his tongue to stroke his way into her mouth. Nami whimpered into his mouth, wanting so badly to grab him, but she had no permission to touch him. Not even out of scene. Everything about this arrangement was controlled.
He pulled away with instruction. “Bathe and get to bed.”
Terry stood, leaving her in the bathroom and without the option to get herself off.
I write these stories for fun, no monetary gain, and for the enjoyment of writing. I encourage likes, reblogs, and comments. I also do not own any of the recognizable figures that I write about unless they are of my own creation and imagination. Asks are always welcomed and engagement is encouraged.
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