And another one of my stories…Also open for new suggestions for the next ones as I’m getting low on stories that I already wrote on Fetlife. And as always happy to hear about what you thought and also feel free to read my other stories and posts. Wish you all the best.
I snuggle next to her, enjoying the sweet drowsy softness of her body against mine. I pull her just a bit closer, giving her a little squeeze.
The sun is warm where it falls through the lace curtains. It’s going to be a hot day. But right now everything is perfect. The warmth, the sun, the long day ahead…I sigh in contentment.
“What’s for breakfast?” she mumbles.
“Mmmmmm,” I respond. “Bring me tea.”
I roll over, grateful for a few more minutes of sleep.
She giggles and gives my ass a little squeeze as she slips from the bed “Yes, Sir Monster. Will there be anything else for you, Sir? Shall I shine your shoes, Sir?” She laughs as she pads out to the kitchen.
My face breaks into a sleepy half-smile as I listen to her leave. “Sir.” “Monster.” What must she really think of me? A neat freak, a nerd, a wine lover, an opera fan. What could have drawn us together?
I glance at the stack of papers on my nightstand. I barely looked at them last night. I smile as I remember how my academic interests evaporated. Well, who’s to say lit students aren’t allowed a night off?
Remembering the night brings a warmth, a particular itch to the heart of me. Saturday. Just the two of us. Here, alone. We can turn off the phones, unplug the Internet…bliss.
I hear light footstep in the hall and then she backs into the room with two mugs, bumping the door open with her lovely butt.
“Strip,” I say. “Sit.”
She raises an eyebrow and does as she’s told. She sets down the mugs, pulls off the t-shirt and panties she slept in, and folds herself into the armchair we picked up at the estate sale last month. “Just sit,” I repeat.
I sit for a moment, gazing at her sweet face. I’m remembering last night. The way I pretended not to notice, like always, when she cheated at Chess. The way we fell on each other like hungry animals. I take a deep breath of morning air still perfumed with the musk of last night’s encounters. The heat rises inside me.
Keeping my eyes locked on hers, I raise my hand and slide my fingers across my neck, my collarbone. I’m wearing a tank top, tight against my body, so she can see my golden skin under my fingers.
A trail of goosebumps follows my fingertips across my skin. I glide them across the top of my chest, above the scoop neck of my shirt, across my body to the other shoulder. Slowly, slowly, and very deliberately, I caress myself. The light touches awaken my body.
A wave of heat moves through me. And so far it’s just fingertips on my neck. And thoughts of her, of course, sweet savage girl. Those thoughts are never far from my mind.
Her eyes follow my hand, constantly darting back to my eyes as I stare deep into her, declaring desire without uttering a word. Her gaze follows my hand as it rises and falls, travels from one shoulder to the other, the simple act become erotic in this place of shared understanding and desire. She fidgets in the chair and the movement of her hips reminds me of last night, the two of us locked in passionate embrace, the world melting away around us.
“Don’t. You. Move,” I say, my eyes boring into hers so she can’t miss my intention. “Don’t.”
I relax into the warm, soft pillows and widen the scope of my fingers’ wanderings, letting them graze against my chest through the thin fabric of the shirt. I find my nipples already hard beneath my touch. I suppress a smile at the knowledge that she is able to see my hard nipples through the cotton.
My fingers are having a predictable effect on the intensity of my arousal. I kick the quilt off my legs, leaving me in shirt and boxers, exposed before her. I draw my feet up and let my knees fall open. I want to touch my legs, the skin of my inner thighs adn all around, but I force myself to wait.
I inhale deeply and hold my breath as another wave of pleasure moves through me. I see her eyes on me, I see the desire on her face and chest, and that desire bumps my own arousal up a notch. I want to see her desire become hunger, the hunger become need, the need consume her.
I’m glad the curtains are open. The chances of someone seeing into the room are virtually zero, but the open curtains are still a turn-on to both of us. I smile again, certain of my ability to arouse her need and confident that her desire will fire a matching passion within me.
The only question, really, is which of us will break, will give in, first.
Her gaze on my body feels like a cool blue flame. Every time I graze my chest with my fingers I feel a strong current pulse through me, ending with a jolt of my whole body. There is something about being watched, about knowing that I am turning her on, that I am filling her with need, that makes me feel sexy, strong and powerful, desirable.
I don’t want to rush…but I can’t wait any longer. I reach down and grab the bottom of my shirt with crossed hands, then pull it up and off all at once. I sit back, my chest caught in a beam of morning sun, and enjoy the look on her face.
I let my hands drop to my legs now, my fingers lightly grazing my thighs. I sit before her in boxers, turned on, needy, needing to be needed, inflamed by her desire. The knowledge that she wants me makes me want myself too, somehow.
Neither my ignomarus family nor my friends would approve of this immodest display. And this, the lure of the forbidden, turns up the heat even more.
I wonder if a spot of moisture has marked my boxers yet, between my legs.
I raise one hand to cup and fondle my chest, kneading it as she has done so many times.
My other hand slides up and down my thigh, getting just a little closer to the junction where the elastic at the opening of my boxers meets flesh. I could make myself cum so easily right now. But I need to torture her a bit more first.
I slip my thumbs into the waistband and raise my ass to slide the boxers off. Over my ass, down my thighs, down they slide, and off they go sailing toward the hamper in the corner. I crook my finger at her. “Come here, pet.”
She swiftly finds her place on her belly down at my slightly spread legs, her eyes fixed at one spot. “Ah ah ah!” I say. “Don’t touch.”
I reach down and dip a finger into my wetness at the tip of my cock. My fingers almost touch her nose, that’s how close she is. I start to play around with my fingers, showing her how wet and hard and slick I am.
As I start to stroke slowly I can hear her breathing deep as she catches my scent. I know what it does to her.
I stroke faster and a little harder, the knowledge that she is watching, frustrated, fueling my rising excitement. I’ll cum if I’m not careful, and I don’t want that. Not yet.
“Get up here,” I say. My voice is a hoarse whisper.
She smiles and scampers quickly up to the head of the bed. She kneels over my face. I tuck a pillow under my head so I can reach her with my tongue, then pull her down so I can bury my face in her warm wet pussy. My tongue pokes out and begins teasing the slippery folds.
She folds herself down so we are in a perfect 69 position, I on my back, she above me. I poke a finger just an inch into her tight pussy and twirl it around as I lick her clit. I stretch her, pulling at the tight fleshy ring in different directions. I feel her tongue at my glans, wet and soft, lively and raspy, better than any other girl. I’m so sensitive from touching myself, I have to will myself not to cum. As it is, I roll my hips upward, thrusting my cock against her face.
I remove my finger from her pussy and begin circling the puckered flesh around her asshole with the slippery wet tip, just teasing her. I feel her squirm at my touch and I make a point of my tongue, pushing at her backdoor for entrance as I lap at her.
She is licking me faster now and my body is responding. I feel her hand snake between our bodies and then her fingers are penetrating me and suddenly it’s too much to resist. I cry out into the wet flesh of her pussy where I have buried my face. My body convulses, rolling from side to side, bouncing on the bed. I lick her pussy faster and harder as I cum; the taste intensifies my orgasm, and I love the idea of having my face buried in her sex while I am writhing in wave after wave of pleasure.
I feel her spasm above me as her orgasm takes her. She shakes for a moment, then collapses onto me.
I regain my breath gradually. “Get OFF of me,” I say, rolling her to one side. I toss some pillows against the headboard so I can sit up halfway, and I pull her around so I can cradle her in my lap. I caress her bare shoulders and stroke her hair.
We rest this way for a minute or two before I reach for the tea mug on the nightstand. I bring it to my lips. “Fuck!” I say. “This tea’s cold! You are the worst sub ever. I can’t believe you’d let me drink cold tea.”
She doesn’t answer, but I can tell from the way her shoulders shake that she is laughing quietly.
I think it is I who will have the last laugh. It’s the weekend and I don’t have any classes to go to today. I’ve nothing better to do than spank this bratty sub for laughing at me, and perhaps impose some other luscious punishments.
She certainly has earned them.
Source: reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/bljb30/my_bratty_little_slut_mf_male_dom_fem_sub_kink