Liebe Kitty

Afternoon at the large conference table, dipping silent words in our Chinese teas and savoring the calm of the lab, soothed by a faint typing sound on a distant keyboard. A mere hour ago I was teasing her in front of an oblivious crowd at the tea party, reminding her about the large puddle she’d left on the very same table after I fucked her on it the night before at midnight. I gave her a quizzical look and inquired:

<<Don’t you think this table still looks kinda wet?>>

Someone heard and diligently inspected it, much to her embarrassment. Delighted, I welcomed the realization that a big part of my enjoyment in possessing her in our lab was not in the risk of being caught, but rather in the anticipation of seeing her blush in front of our unaware colleagues the next day.

It’s just the two of us now; I gather some black and white pebbles and idly propose a game: in turns, each player must remove some black pebbles, or some white pebbles, or the same amount of black and white pebbles. The player to remove the last pebble wins. We play a few rounds, and a winning strategy begins to take shape in her quick mind, but a general formula is elusive. I lead her to the conjecture that the losing positions must be characterized by a specific black/white ratio. I gently prod her until she has the epiphany: it must be the golden ratio, here making its unexpected appearance with a coup de théâtre. I can see from the way her staggering Lucy-Liu eyes dive into mine that she’s aroused.

Later, we lounge in the twilight atop a hill overlooking a valley covered in pink haze.

<<See the way the sun sets: Earth does not revolve around the Sun. It rolls in anguish, bound to it by a chain, prisoner and slave to the Sun.>>

<<Indeed.>>

I keep texting her throughout the evening, toying with her libido, and finally revealing my intentions to meet her at my place and do something new.

She comes to my apartment looking shy and submissive. I greet her with gentle kisses on her neck, which send her straight to Candyland as I run my fingers through her hair, caressing the back of her head. She moans and tells me she’s getting wet. I realize she’s not wearing underwear, and in a minute I’ve thrown her on my bed and I’ve started pounding at her. No foreplay, no subtleties, just rough sex until she comes three times from her deep spot. Now I consider her ready for the real deal.

I strip her naked, make her sit on a foldable chair, and I proceed to tie her up. Feet bound to the chair, legs spread apart. I blindfold her and I leave her one hand free, so I can slit the tip of her index finger and play with her blood. The sudden sting is unexpected, and she lets out a scream, to which I respond with a sadistic laughter.

<<If you get out of here alive, you’ll have quite a story to tell.>>

She struggles on the chair and I slap her face, temporarily calming her down. But there is still fight in her.

With her bleeding finger I draw two circles around her boobs, and I complete the artwork with a giant phallus pointing down. I then put the dripping finger into her mouth, giving her a taste of her own blood, while I get some bandage to patch her up. As soon as the hemorrhage has stopped, I tie up her hand behind her back.

I plug in a wand vibrator, I turn it on, and I start rubbing it on her skin, first on the neck, then on the breasts and the stomach, retracing the coagulated bloody lines on her body. She’s shaking in excitement when the wand touches her clitoris, but that’s when I give her the order:

<<You’re not allowed to orgasm.>>

Disoriented by the prohibition, at first she rejects the wand, pulling her hips away and struggling on the chair. She screams every time I manage to stimulate her sweet spots. Then I gradually increase the pressure while I hold her still on the chair. She’s nearly panicking, frantically fighting to suppress the pleasure, though I can tell she’s desiring it with her every fiber.

Each and every time she’s about to climax, I pull the wand away, allowing her to take breath and hold back the orgasm. But I never stop touching or kissing or slapping her, always letting her feel my presence. As soon as I start reckoning that her cravings are driving her our of her mind, I decide to give her the final stroke and force her into a full-body orgasm. I push the wand between her thighs, licking her hard nipples and holding her still by the neck. I push the wand against her with such strength that I can feel its vibration running through her body and reach my tongue. She can’t take it any longer; she pants heavily, begging me to stop.

<<I’m going to cum, I have to… I’m so sorry…>>

<<No, you can’t.>>

She cries vibrantly with her remaining energy; then she breaks down, and her furious screams turn into a resigned lament as she lets her clear nectar burst across the room in long streams. Her muscles finally relax, allowing the orgasm to explode through her shaking limbs.

She needs water to keep going, and I let her drink some: I take a sip from a bottle, I pull her head back pinching her nostrils, and I spit the water into her throat. She’s still blindfolded, and the sudden presence of water in her throat chokes her. I grab her face, squeeze her cheeks, and I pour water into her mouth. I stare at her and laugh, and when she’s done gasping and choking, she realizes that she is not fully satisfied yet, and asks for another orgasm.

I react to the impudent request by taking out my penis and shoving it into her mouth. Surprised, she lasciviously accepts the treat with a luxurious moan. I rhythmically slide my glans in and out of her mouth, watching her cheeks bulge with every stroke. I pull it out and let her lick my balls, while I grab my phone and start recording a video of her facial expressions. I repeatedly slap her face and her mouth with my cock, turned on and hardened by each of her excited shrieks. I keep filming as she hears me groan and begs me to cum:

<<Cum for me, master… I really want it. Make yourself better…>>

I am not done hitting her red face, yet. But after a few more blows, I am ready to give her satisfaction. She pulls out her tongue indecently when she feels my cum fall on her face and pour down.

When I’m finished, I pan out with the phone’s camera to reveal and consecrate the gorgeous body that I have decorated with jizz and blood. Then I stop recording, I remove the blindfold, untie one of her hands, and I give her the wand. She is allowed to masturbate while I hold my phone in front of her face, forcing her to rewatch the scene that I have just recorded. She watches, and I start biting her neck and her shoulders, feeling her soft flesh contracting and convulsing under my teeth. For a moment my brain obliviates thousands of years of cultural layering, and my only desire is to rip her flesh off. I end up leaving deep marks in her. In the meantime, the wand is already vibrating at full speed on her clitoris, her juices start dripping off the chair, and she climaxes quickly, squirting and shaking for several seconds, and forming a large puddle on the wooden floor.

She drops the wand, and her head falls back. I untie her and kick her off the chair. She falls on the floor with a thud, and I drag her into the puddle. I roll her onto her stomach with my foot, and I stare at her with a grin: helpless, soaking wet, dirty and humiliated, awaiting my next order.

<<Do it, slut.>>

There is no need for an explicit command: without raising her head from the floor, she starts lapping at the puddle, sipping and slurping her own juices, while I sit on her back cowboy-style and watch the scene.

Satisfied, I roll her again, and when she lies on her back I slide forward to sit on her face. All she can do is suck my balls and reach for my cock. She takes pleasure in holding it in her hand and stroking it, feeling it grow in size and get harder. I fuck her mouth again, and then her pussy. Our tainted bodies are making love on the floor now; sweet words come out of our lips, and her wet hair and face wildly turn me on. I put my hands in hers, interlocking fingers; I hold my orgasm until she is ready, and then we climax together.

Later on, we indulge ourselves with a long warm shower, washing away our sins and teasing each other. Relaxed, she remarks:

<<You know? When you cum, you say nothing but “fuck”.>>

I laugh and acknowledge that it may be true. I have no good comeback to that, so I just poke her splash some water on her face. We get out of the shower. Towels, hairdryer, a deep kiss, and she’s gone. Another day that I won’t regret.

Source: reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/9h6xoj/liebe_kitty