Can a sub dom her domme? Warning: girl-on-girl action

[moptop]

I've been so busy again - real life, you know, but gooooood gooooood... but I apologise for having jumped up and down to get here, and then disappearing again!

Anyway - my assignment is actually to write the being-a-dominant-male thing - which I havn't done yet. But for your pleasure?/critiques/in the hope of mitigating my fault in not being here - I thought I'd post this for you, which I just wrote for the academy. I'm on the academy because my Master wants me to be, and this is a task he chose for me, because he wants me to domme another woman on line, and that troubles me... And Debs is real. So... it was a difficult story for me to write. But apparently it is quite enjoyable. Here goes.


(Task title - Going Against Your Nature)

Part 1

Well, of course, I know she’s not expecting it. I’m a sub. I’m an out-and-out sub. I’m a bad little subby. Sub is me. And, especially, sub is me to her. So, she’s really not expecting it.

But you see, the thing is, I know she’s a sub, too. Just not with me. We don’t know why it works that way, it just does. We both sub to men. I sub to her, and certainly in my mind, if I were with another woman, I’d be subbing. We have discussed my tendencies towards wanting to dominate men, but the idea of me domming a woman – well, it just made her laugh.

So, trust me, she’s not expecting it.

She breezes in, that cheesy grin, those knowing, teasing blue eyes, her hips thrust forward. Her pelvis talks to you when she walks – look, look what I’ve got; you want it, don’t you? Well, you can’t have it; or not unless you’re very, very good…

She gives me a hug and a peck on the cheek – we are friends as well as lovers, most of the time we don’t stand (or kneel, or lie) on ceremony, unless we’re actually playing. I cuddle her back, but she suddenly pulls away and gives me a look, or, I don’t know, it’s the way she stands, or something: for that moment, she has become my Domme. I quail inwardly. Nothing is said: she is simply taking control by being. The moment passes. She turns with another brilliant, mischievous smile and says over her shoulder as she heads towards the door,

“I’m going to put the kettle on, do you want a cuppa, sweety?”

I make my move before I can back down. I come up swiftly behind her and grab her hair at the top of her head, snake the other arm around the front and grab a breast, not gently, pulling her head sharply back towards me. She totters, taken completely by surprise, her back arches and she has to hold her balance by leaning her shoulders against me. She is so shocked, she manages nothing more than a gasp. And there she is, relying on me to hold her up, and in the silence that I allow for a moment, she’s panting.

“Oh, yes,” I whisper fiercely, right into her ear, my chin tickling her neck. “I do want a cuppa. And you are going to make it.” I can feel her straining, wobbling against me, she is really balanced very precariously, one leg slightly twisted out, her ankles weakening as she tries to keep upright in her heels. She makes a little whimper; there is an edge of panic in it. I shift position slightly, so I have one knee held up against her arse, both helping her balance, and pushing its way between her legs.

“But first, darling,” I give her hair a sharp tug, at the same time thrusting my knee forward and squeezing her nipple through her shirt, just to feel her tense and quiver, “You are going to take off all your clothes, except your shoes. I want you to make my tea naked, bring it to me naked, and then present it to me in a fitting fashion. If I like the way you do it, I might be nice to you.”

I let go abruptly, and shove her slightly forwards and up, just steadying her; not allowing her to have control of the movement, so that she regains her balance through me, not through her own volition. She turns sharply towards me, her hands reaching towards me as though to beseech or perhaps to strike; her mouth is open but speechless, and the expression on her face is a delight: outrage, confusion, excitement, anger, pleasure, and that wonderful, slightly blank, unfocussed, lost, submissive look. Good grief, I got her! Now if I can just keep it up…

I take a step back and indicate imperiously. “Come on. Kit off.” I know this is something she will find particularly difficult and uncomfortable: she hates parading naked in front of me, for her, clothes are a symbol of dominance, as well as a protection for her lack of confidence. She doesn’t like her body much. But I love seeing it, so this is a double pleasure for me; because I am starting to feel a strange, inner growl, an excitement that is other than sexual as I know it, a tension, an intensity of pleasure at controlling her mind and movements.

Her hands fumbling, she starts to undo the buttons on her blouse. Allowing myself just a tiny, self-satisfied smile, I move back and sit down to watch. I lean back into the chair. The shock-tactic worked, but I know I can’t allow myself to be lulled into a false sense of security: she will fight back. Yup; just… about… now:

“Bloody hell, what am I doing, what are you playing at?” Her hands drop to her sides and she takes a half step forward, belligerent, confused.

I hold my hand up and frown imperiously. “Did I say you could speak? You aren’t good at doing two things at once. You need to concentrate on taking your clothes off. Not talking.”

She opens her mouth to answer, but I over-ride her.

“I said, undress! Do it!”

The shocked look returns, and her sub nature betrays her again. She flushes pink, and starts to undress rapidly. Blouse and skirt go: I so enjoy watching her drop the skirt down and step out of it, teetering slightly, nothing to hold on to, long legs, mmmm yes, they go all the way from her feet to her pussy. She looks around wondering what to do with her clothes. I indicate the sofa. She will have to walk across the room to put them there. She looks at me with pleading, she doesn’t want to be made to walk across the room in front of me: I just point.

The little cow struts. She has got angry that I have imposed myself on her, and she struts. I’m not having that. She folds her clothes to put them on the settee, her back to me, and each movement is sharp and sulky. I stand and bark,

“That is not acceptable behaviour! Bend over! Hands on the sofa! Spread!”

Startled by my tone of voice, she takes a quick glimpse over her shoulder, sees my face grim, and immediately bends, holding her weight on her hands and arms, her arse thrust high, her legs wide and stretched taut. I can see the tension thrumming in them.

I don’t move. She can’t see me: she could if she tried, but I know that at this point she is staring hard at the sofa; her mouth is dry; and her mind has gone a little blank again with panic. I know her skin is prickling all over now. I know her ears are itching to hear. I walk slowly, quietly, very quietly, up to her, until I am only millimetres away. Her skin, sensitised by its nakedness and the rush of fear, will be able to feel me, tingling and crawling with it, even though I’m not touching her. I wait. I wait a little longer, until I can see her struggling, trying hard not to wriggle, trembling slightly. I want to judge the moment exactly right – just that sweet moment of anticipation, anger, fear which makes the buttocks clench tight together. And above all, not to wait too long, that blissful feeling of being exposed to danger must not have the chance to feel safe…

I watch, and see a tremor run through her: her arse squeezes. I immediately hook a finger in her knickers, right in the cleft between her two lovely cheeks, and pull out and down. I need several tugs to get her arse exposed and hear some ripping noises. The tension I can feel in her whole body is exhilarating, almost frightening in its intensity. I stand back and to one side very slightly.

“You will not carry out my orders in that fashion. You will carry them out willingly, gracefully. I will not tolerate such wilfulness.” My voice is cold and hard. I wait again for just an instant, and am rewarded with the shudder I wanted. Then I bring my hand hard down, with a resounding slap, onto that beautiful rear. Her body jerks forward and she gasps outloud, more from surprise than pain. I slap the other cheek equally hard. I make no attempt to soften the blows with caresses in-between: this is not for pleasure. Each cheek gets 5, fast and hard. She makes very little noise, she doesn’t dare. My hand hurts.

“Right. Now stand up and do it properly. And hurry up. I want my tea.”

She stands, uncertain, slightly tearful because this is not right, this is not the way it is supposed to be, she is still angry, certainly not cowed, but nevertheless, she cannot resist, the sub pull is too hard. Her eyes flicking between my face and the ground, beautifully discountenanced, she hesitatingly removes her bra and knickers, getting her heels slightly entangled in her knickers while doing it. I keep my stare, my face hard. When she is naked, I turn (that’s a dangerous moment, like turning your back on a bull at a corrida) and sit again. I nod at her as she stands uncertainly waiting – she is surely in the game, now. Intrigued, if nothing else. At my nod, she turns, keeping her face down, and leaves the room to make the tea.

I don’t dare to let myself relax when she is out of the room. I strain my ears, listening to her movements. I imagine her feeling a little cold, her skin rising in goose bumps, her nipples sticking out… it will make sure she remains aware of her nakedness, which will also ensure my tenuous control over her remains. It will be sensitising and sensualising her. It will be aggravating the hell out of her.

I sit up, haughty, as I hear her footsteps returning. She enters and looks at me – recognises that I have not relented – and composes herself accordingly. Her eyes cast down, she walks carefully to me and kneels. I can feel the glory she feels in her submission: the conflict that it is to me, the excitement and curiosity that it is to me.

She holds the tea up to me in both hands, one holding the handle, one under the mug to protect from drips. I inspect the colour. Yes, it looks good (I’m very fussy about my tea!). I wait. She waits. She realises I am waiting for her to do something. Her eyes just momentarily flick up to my face, I am staring at her, and looking slightly displeased. She bites her lip. Come on. Come on now. You can do it. You know what I want.

She takes a breath. Her voice a little weak, she says,

“I have brought you your tea, Mistress. I hope it is to your satisfaction.”

I smile, and reach graciously for my mug. I hold out my hand, but don’t take it. She understands at once, and carefully turns the mug so that the handle is available for me to take. Can’t have me burning my fingers, can we.

I take the handle and slowly take a sip. I savour it, make it obvious that I am checking its quality. She is looking at me from under her lashes, anxious – is it alright? Has she brewed it long enough, added enough milk, used the right amount of sugar?

I swallow and permit myself to smile.

“Mmm, that’s a very nice cup of tea. Thank you, sweety. You did very well.”

She flushes pink with pleasure and relief, and smiles back at me. I lean forward and take one nipple between finger and thumb. Keeping eye contact, I squeeze; squeeze harder; and twist. I watch the pain and pleasure blossoming in her eyes, see her lips part slightly, see the slight grimace. God, this is fun. I keep hold of the nipple, still squeezing and twisting, I pull. She leans forward. I stop and frown.

“Stay still! Stay in position!”

She forces herself to lean her body back into the upright position, as I keep my hand still. It is bliss making her put the pain on herself. And I know it is pain: I know just how it feels when she does it to me… Revenge is sweet, eh! Her tit is stretched… taut… her breath hisses.

“Ohhhh, does it hurt, honey?” I taunt her, smiling wickedly. She nods very slightly. “Here, hold my mug, I want to check something.”

She takes the mug, awkwardly because I won’t let go, it is difficult for her to get her other hand around her own stretched breast, and the movement stretches and twists it further. When she has it held in her free hand, I reach down and tap at her thighs to make her spread them. She shuffles them apart, trying not to spill the tea or lose position or pull any harder on her nipple, which must be screaming by now. I squeeze just a little more for the hell of it.

“You should have knelt down with them spread in the first place, you know that, don’t you. We shall see about that later.” Making sure I maintain a good pull on her tit, I reach my other hand down between her legs and gently run my fingers over her pussy lips. I feel her quiver. I lay one finger along the gap between them, and move it gently so that it sinks in. I crook it slightly, just enough to be able to push it in her pussy a tiny bit…

“You’re soaked, you horny little cow.”

I move my finger in her just enough to allow the juices to spread, to allow my finger to sliiiide, and I pull my hand lightly up, my finger running straight across her clit, just that one light brush. She gasps and tenses at the contact, and simultaneously I let go of her nipple. She almost loses her balance, and groans, her hand going automatically up to her breast to sooth herself. I slap it away.

“Unh-unh! No, no. You let me do that.” And I reach up to caress and soothe her poor red nipple, rubbing her juices across it gently, tenderly. I lean forward and take it in my mouth, watching her face as her eyes close at the warmth and softness of my tongue and lips, I rub it softly with my tongue, and taste her at the same time. Her lips part. Softly, I move away, she looks at me with desire, wanting more.

“You spilt some tea.” Her head turns in alarm to the mug she’d forgotten she was holding. “You didn’t assume an acceptable position when you offered it to me.” Her head turns back to me, her eyes widening in fearful realisation. “But you did make a very good cup of tea. That is some mitigation.” She looks cautiously hopeful. I hold my hand out for my tea again. As I take a sip, I wave my hand at the corner.

“Go and stand in the corner with your hands on your head while I drink my tea. Think about your errors. I will decide what corrective action I should best take.”

Now, she just looks incredulous. I can see she is about to rebel. Go and stand in the corner??? She has never made me do such a thing! She opens her mouth to talk back, but I simply give her a fierce look and point. I am managing not to laugh, which would be the complete end at this moment. She is so outraged! God it’s such fun.

Unwillingly, but momentarily subdued, she gets up and walks to the corner, her whole body language showing resentment, unwillingness, and self-consciousness. She stands facing the corner and puts her hands on her head. I leave her for an instant, enjoying watching her.

“Stand up straight.”

She straightens. Her buttocks tighten as she does so. I can permit myself an evil and pleasured grin, because she’s not looking.

“Pull your elbows back, I want those breasts thrust out.” Her shoulder-blades show straining in her back, the curves of her body, the tautness of her are beautiful.

“Now get closer in to the wall. Go on. Closer.” Her breasts and nose are touching it. I know it is uncomfortable because of her elbows, which are also now touching the walls, being forced back by them.

“Spread.” She spreads her legs so that each foot is also touching a wall. Not very wide, but symbolic and necessary. I sigh with deep pleasure and lean back in the chair, allowing myself truly to relax and enjoy the moment. I take a good slurp of my tea.

Now… what shall I make her bring me to punish (and pleasure) her, when I’ve finished?

Part 2

You may wonder why I’ve suddenly decided to dom my Domme. Well, a mixture of things, really. Firstly, my Master has been encouraging me to find a sub for me to dominate, or for him to dominate with me. I find that idea… very difficult. It’s not in my nature. And I don’t like the idea of sharing him!

But it’s true I have no problem with being shared by the two of them… which is a little unfair on my part, isn’t it? Anyway, I recently introduced her to him – online – and they have been enjoying eachother’s company. To the extent that I realised they were plotting; ganging up on me. I won’t bother going into the details of how I discovered this. But she’s a baaaaaad girl, so I took this opportunity to kill two birds with one stone, as it were: find a woman to dominate to please him, and get my own back on her!

It’s quite fascinating. And doubly scary, because Jeez! Am I going to get it in the neck when I stop!

She is trembling slightly now. The position is tense to hold, quite painful to her shoulders. She might be a bit cold. But mostly… she’s waiting and the sense of anticipation is doing all the hard work for me. But I know she is still battling in herself, and I can’t leave it too long. I put my mug down.

“You’re very beautiful like that. I love watching you.”

An interesting mixture of emotions shows in her back: a release from tension on the one hand, an increase of it on the other. Her little sub side is pleased I’m pleased; and her little sub heart is leaping into her mouth knowing that the next stage is about to start. Her Domme soul is yammering, don’t take this from her! That very contradiction within her is holding her still for me.

“Go to the toy cupboard.”

She releases herself from position gratefully, with a sudden movement, then encounters the pain in her shoulders and has to ease herself out of it. She doesn’t look at me, turns, her head to the ground again. And her thighs and belly are shimmering from the emotions within her. She walks across the room – I realise that the bobbling of her flesh is lovely, enticing, all those bits moving – opens the cupboard door and kneels in front it, automatically assuming Nadu except for her lowered head.

“Raise your head, sweetheart. Show yourself proud to me, show me your beauty.”

She straightens, thrusts her shoulders back – I see a slight wince at her mouth – and I have a beautiful profile of her. I wait a few moments and then get up, quietly, purposefully. The chair creaks slightly, and I see her jump. God, that’s fun. I move so that she can’t see me at all, and walk up behind her: I know I don’t need to be too close for her to feel me there, every nerve in her body is alight. The hairs on her back will reach up towards me, I can touch her without any physical contact at this point. I look across her head into the cupboard. Everything is neatly arrayed, the cords neatly coiled hanging on their pegs, the flails, paddles and crops hanging alongside them; other toys stored on shelves below them. I reach round and grab a nipple, twist and squeeze it suddenly and sharply, because I can. Her breath hisses.

“Number 3.” I state my choice and return abruptly to my seat.

I have chosen a crop. Thin, whippy, flexible, with only a small leather tab at the end. I bought it in a riding shop. I know it well, I know just how it can be used, just how it can warm, just how it can smart, just how it can cause wheals of fire.

“And the wrist cuffs.”

I watch her lean into the cupboard, having to stand to take the crop off its peg: yes, her hands are shaking.

“And the medium spreader.”

She collects the items and brings them to me, her eyes lowered, and kneels with her legs beautifully spread to offer them to me. She lays them on the ground at my feet, and returns to Nadu. But she still has to look at the floor. I reach down, forwards, and touch her pussy, press my hand hard against it and move in circles, and push two fingers in. They sliiiide so easily. Her eyes try desperately to avoid mine, and she closes them as she gasps in pleasure. I hoik my fingers upwards, curled against her g-spot and hooking into her to cause her a little pain.

“Eyes open! Look at me!”

Oooohhh those beautiful blue eyes. The emotion in them is delectable: desire and apprehension are the principal ones, but with so many undertones: confusion, anger, love, humour. I grab her head with passion and bend over to kiss her parted lips, my tongue deep in her mouth, my lips surrounding hers: an unfamiliar feeling, I always kiss with my lips inside theirs, I am always surrounded and taken by their kiss, but not this time. Her kiss is as delicate as a butterfly, her lips as soft as velvet, and I am fierce. I pull away, my face close to hers and stroke her cheek, smile at her tenderly, our eyes locked.

Very quietly, I tell her, “Stand up, back to me, you know the position” and sit back in the chair again.

She stands slightly uncertainly, and moves a few paces back to ensure there is a enough space, turns her back, spreads her legs wide, and crosses her hands in the small of her back. I pick up the crop and cuffs and walk behind her. I fasten the cuffs on each wrist, just tight enough but not too tight, and clip them together. Then I just start to stroke her with the crop. Running it up the inside of one thigh, just brushing her lips – a lovely shudder – and up the crack between her cheeks, then circles across her cheeks – they tense and pucker, mmmmm. Who could resist that? I tap the right one quite lightly and fast, getting slightly harder, just long enough to see a slight pinkness flush her skin. I start stroking her with it again, caressing the pinkness, running it up her back, across her shoulder blades. Oh, I like her shoulder blades. I place the crop along the line of her left one, just in the hollow between where it sticks out from her back. I press it into this gap, hold it there for a moment, bending it into the curve of her body, then bring it out and very sharply back down again, just once. I am pleased to have got my aim and the angle exactly right. And pleased at her gasp, at the way her body sways forward. Because I know that hurt – but if I’d missed, it would have been the wrong hurt.

I trail it across her body again, moving around, running the leather tab up her arms, her neck, and around to the front to trail it across her breasts and belly. I run it between her legs, and rub it between her lips – I can see the trail of her juices shining on it, she bites her lip slightly, but keeps her eyes straight ahead. I start to tap her pussy lips just lightly, then turn the angle of the crop and move it fast and hard side to side between her thighs, right at the top, slapping each one in turn, keeping it in the same place (at least as far as I can…) using the shaft of the crop, not the tab, and just avoiding her pussy. But it’s close enough so that I know she is tensing those muscles to keep out of the way. I can see the marks starting to raise, and stop, reaching with my other hand to stroke tenderly. I reach it upwards and cup her lips, rubbing gently in circles to push against her clit, and lean forward to take one of her pink, hard nipples in my mouth. I flick my tongue across it, then suck gently… harder… bite… HARD. She yelps and tries to pull away. I thwack the crop across her arse as hard as I can – slightly awkward angle, but I get her a good swipe, and her body arches up towards me, her pelvis thrusts forwards trying to escape the blow, and so grinding herself against my hand more.

I move two fingers between her lips and gently ensure her juices are well spread so she is lubricated all over – she is so lusciously wet now – and feel the swelling of her clit beneath them. I part my fingers slightly, so her button is held between them, and start to move them in a small circle, just a slight movement, it doesn’t need much. I stand to watch her face. It has gone unfocussed, her lips parted, her head cocked slightly on one side, her blue eyes slightly clouded with desire. She tries to lick her lips but her mouth is dry. I place the end of the crop on her left nipple and begin to vibrate it quickly up and down, gently, but directly onto the nipple. I let go of her clit – she whimpers a little – and change my angle so I can get at both her tits. I keep vibrating the end of the crop on her left nipple. It will be starting to hurt now, not much, just a bit. I take her other nipple between thumb and forefinger and squeeze, twist, hold it there, making sure I really hurt her. Her head goes back with the pain, the line of her neck is beautiful. I am still thrumming on her other nipple. Which one is worse? As she becomes used to the hard pain of one, and accepts it, the gently growing pain of the other will take over… as she concentrates on that, she will lose her control on the other. She starts to whimper, I squeeze harder, twist the other way and change the direction of the crop, moving it now to beat more of the breast, slightly more slowly, but slightly harder, passing sometimes across the nipple. Oh, yes, it hurts well, she is jumping each time I touch it.

I stop, and gently sooth each nipple. I murmur to her, tell her she’s a good girl, and beautiful, and ask her if that was nice. She nods reluctantly, making a tiny squeaking sound. I suck first her left, then her right nipple, very gently. I move behind her and unclip the cuffs, remove them. She is tense, waiting, wondering what the next stage will be, and I know she is throbbing with desire.

“Slaver’s Kiss, darling.”

She drops gracefully, spreading her thighs, forehead to the ground. Her pussy and arse are totally exposed to me, I can see her juices glistening, her lips are swollen and pink, her clit poking its head out at me. I too drop to my knees, and reach my face towards her. Her scent rises up at me, I feel my own excitement suddenly, I had been so involved I had not been aware of it before. I run my tongue slowly, luxuriously, from her clit to her anus, stopping on the way to dip it into her vagina, to gather her juices. She tastes sweet. I pull myself away from her, with regret, with desire, reach my hand in gently, softly circle her clit, watch her stomach draw in and her butt press up with pleasure. I continue to circle and rub her clit, and push my thumb into her lush pussy, crooking it and rubbing, moving it back and forth very slightly, feeling the ribbed texture of the skin inside her, feeling her clamp herself around me. I lick the middle finger of my other hand and moisten her arse hole, rub gently around it, then press very gently, feeling the resistance; I push a little harder, vibrating my finger slightly, and then feel the sweet relaxation as she lets me in. Just a knuckle’s worth, moving it in circles. She is panting and squirming, pushing back against me, moving rhythmically with my fingers. She is starting to pulse against me; I stop all movement, just hold my hands firm and still against her, and she freezes. I move them slowly away and stand up.

I move away and wait for a while, just watching her, letting the time sink in… Quietly, slowly, although knowing that the slight clanking will have her twitching, I pick up the spreader bar.

I have no idea if this going to work. No-one’s ever put a spreader bar on me while I’m in this position. I’m not sure if it’s going to be too wide for her to be able to maintain it long. Oh well – live and learn, eh? I kneel between her spread legs – oh, just look at that – I lean forward and give her a quick and rather rough lick. I fasten one cuff on, and have to get her to spread a bit more to be able to put the other one on. I stand back and examine her, a bit unsure. Her thighs are very stretched… so is her arse. My word. I realise that right now I would seriously like to have a cock.

“Is that alright?”

She moves her head and makes a little noise, both of which seem to be positive. I’m pleased.

It is time for pain.

I rub the shaft of the crop across her straining buttocks, up and down, then hold it pressed against her, still for a moment. I begin.

I don’t try to be gentle any more. I want to hurt her. My first stroke is hard across both her cheeks, leaving a satisfying stripe at once. I continue to concentrate on the same spot for several more strikes, then twist so that I can hit just one cheek at a time, but in an up-and-down direction instead of across. I alternate, leaving a slight space between each hit, just enough for her to appreciate the pain of the last swipe, and to anticipate the fall of the next. She is trying not to cry out, her body juddering against the harshness of the blows. I twist again, and lean to stroke her cheeks a little, blowing on them to cool and highlight their heat. Her body softens slightly, so I immediately bring a sharp and painful thwack just at the crease between her left buttock and her thigh. She yelps and her head jerks up, that hurt bad. I find myself smiling viciously – oh my, I never knew I was so nasty! I am really enjoying this. I run my hand up her back, trailing it across her sensitised skin to get a sensuous stretching out of her, then abruptly grab her hair and push her head back down hard.

“You don’t move!” I hiss. I twist and pull her hair, making her struggle to keep her head to the floor. I let go with a last push of her head into the floor.

I stand astride her, so I can get a perfect view and the right angle to target down between her taut spread legs. I start to tap her pussy, not too hard at first, moving the crop gradually from side-to-side, making sure I get in that lovely sensitive bit just between the thigh and the outer lip, making sure I get between the lips, hearing the change in tone as I move from dry to moist skin. Gradually, increase the strength of the taps, and simultaneously I slowly angle the crop handle outwards. I am now just tapping on and around her clit. Round it, on it, across it, changing the movement and direction, sometimes just rubbing across it with the shaft of the crop, then starting my vibrating tapping again, sometimes striking her hard and making her cry out. I can feel her tensing, trembling, hear her breathing fast and hard. She is close.

“You little slut, you’re loving this, do you want to cum?”

A whimper. I squeeze her angrily between my legs, but don’t allow the tapping rhythm to stop.

“I didn’t hear you.”

A whisper, “Yes.”

A squeeze and a harder tap; I stop just momentarily.

“What? Yes what?”

“Yes, please, yes, I want to cum, please let me cum, please.”

“Cum now, darling, cum for me.”

As I say this, I lick the finger of my other hand again and push it into her arse, vibrating it in time with the tapping on her clit, pushing it harder in, rolling and twisting it. I feel her muscles gathering themselves in, the tone of her breathing changes, she starts to moan and I find myself grinding my own pelvis in time with hers, breathing hard with her. Suddenly her whole body tenses, and then releases with a gasping shriek, pulsating so I can feel her arse gripping and releasing on my finger, juddering and pushing up against me. As she cums, I thrum the crop end against her, not beating any more, just meeting her pleasure, keeping it going. I feel her peak passing, and slow with her, just giving little extra moments of speed to make her body strain, make another wave pass over her. At last I stop moving and just press against her, as I feel her shuddering down, feel her returning. Gently, slowly, I pull myself away from her. Stroking the crop gently along her thighs and loving her twitching, I stare thoughtfully at the cupboard. So many more toys to try…

I might just have found out how to get myself out of trouble.