Breakfast [femdom]

“Hello,” I say.

He quivers like a leaf before me in the doorway. Although he is smaller in stature than expected, I am excited by the prospect of how easy picking him up, flipping him over, and pinning him down will be. He is hesitant to make eye contact like a mottle-coated hare facing a lynx. Perhaps he knows what I am thinking? He turns and leads me up the green carpeted staircase. My fingertips graze the glossy well used wooden banister as we ascend. He opens the impossibly large door to his apartment. I enter.

“Take my coat,” I direct.

Sauntering to the couch I feel his eyes on my back drinking me in when he thinks I am not noticing. I pull out the bottle of rosè I have brought with me.

“Serve me,” I command.

I eat two 30 milligram edibles while he produces a cup and pours me a glass of wine.

“Do you still have the dildo up your butt, the one you sent me a photo of?” I inquire.

He nods and smiles weakly.

“Good. How does it feel?” I ask.

He shifts uncomfortably. It is not a small dildo. I know how he feels, full. He admits that he is worried it will fall out. That’s fine, you’ll just put it back in. I take a sip of my wine slowly crossing my legs and peering at him over the rim of the glass.

“Did you get the blueberries?” I ask as I drop eye contact with him to better allow him to focus.

He nods.

“Excellent. Then start cooking,” I say.

He nods like a good boy and goes to the kitchen to begin. I turn on the television. I pull up Netflix. I find a show that I love to watch and rewatch. The theme song sung by Charles Bradley drowns out the cacophony of mixing, sizzling, and crackling. Sweet and savory aromas waft in my direction. My hunger grows. I eye him over the semi-wall separating the kitchen from the living space. He shifts his weight from side to side as he slaves over a hot stove for me. He seems very focused on preparing the perfect meal for me.

I pour myself another glass of rosè. I stand with my wine in hand and move to lean on the counter behind him. I look down at him. I can see his butt cheeks clenching through his fitted jeans as he senses my presence. I definitely make him nervous. His eyes dart from me and back to the pan.

Slinking alway back to the couch, I begin to feel the warm relaxing feeling of the wine and weed taking affect. I feel myself smiling like the Cheshire Cat and bobbing my head along to the musical numbers in the program. Finally he brings me a bountiful plate of food and places it in front of my on the coffee table.

“Pour me another glass of wine,” I demand.

He does, then he scurries into the kitchen and returns with a bottle of organic Vermont maple syrup and places it beside my plate. I uncap the syrup and enjoy the scent that I have come to associate with fall and early winter. I drizzle the syrup over my blueberry pancakes. I sip my rosè.

“Sit down,” I instruct.

I pat the couch cushion beside me. He winces as he sits. I laugh.

“You may take the dildo out,” I relent.

He looks both grateful but also afraid. He disappears into his bedroom but returns quickly. He sits beside me and looks at me, looks at the food, looks at the floor, looks at the off-white walls, back to me, then at his hands in his lap. I watch as his pale skin betrays him. He is ever so slightly flushed. I see the muscles in his neck working as he swallows.

“What are you waiting for? Feed me,” I say.

He picks up the utensils and begins cutting my pancakes. Starring at him over the rim of my glass, I watch making sure the segments are cut to my liking. He offers me a section. The pancake itself is dry, but the blueberries are deliciously moist little morsels tucked inside.

“Like this,” I say as I twist the fork around in his hand, because he is holding it a bit awkwardly. “Now the eggs,” I direct.

He feeds me scrambled eggs. They are fluffy. Then I taste the bacon, and it is perfectly in between being crispy and limp.

“Good job over all,” I tell him.

He feeds me about half the food on the plate, then I lose patience and shoo his hands away to finish myself.

“Get a cup.”

He goes to the kitchen and returns with a mug. I pause my breakfast to rummage in my bag. I pull out a jar of coconut oil.

“Scoop out a little, and warm it up for me,” I say.

He goes back into the kitchen. I resume eating and watching my show. I am faintly aware of the clink of silverware against porcelain, the opening and closing of a microwave door, two beeps and the slow hum of the machine. When the microwave beeps again, I am finished eating. He brings me the warm coconut oil.

“Clean up,” I say.

I stand and go to his bedroom. It is satisfactory in terms of cleanliness though quite sparse and lacking in personal adornments. I put the mug on the night stand, undress, and lay down on my stomach. When he enters he seems uncertain of where to look, but like the president during a solar eclipse he allows his vision to linger for longer than is safe. I know he is taking in my bare butt in all of its glory. I allow him to undress to his boxers.

“Massage me,” I command. “Make sure it is firm.”

He begins. His hands are small but strong. The oil is a little warmer than expected, but I like it all the better. He is standing over me, but this position does not offer him the leverage he needs. Sit on me so you can rub me harder. He hesitates until I lift my head knowing that if he is admonished it will be harsh. Reluctantly he straddles me.

My breathe deepens as he finds the knots in my shoulders. His hands work systematically across and down my back. The occasional moan of pleasure escapes me. Massage my butt. I sit too much at work. As he tries to shift backwards, I feel his burgeoning boner rub again my thigh as it fights against the fabric of his underwear. He knows that I have little to no interest in his disgusting little dick, and he apologizes for his hard-on touching his mistress. He knows he is unworthy of luxuriating in the curves , scents, and flavors of my body. He is lucky for the opportunity to be this close to me. I twist a little little to look over my shoulder. I can tell he appreciates the chance to feel my supple thighs and buttock. His facial expression is one of intense focus as his hands knead my body.

He continues massaging me, but I feel him begin spreading my cheeks and rubbing circles inside my inner upper thighs. I know that starring at my asshole and pussy from behind must be driving him mad. I am freshly shaved and completely bare, perfect for viewing every detail from the small birth mark nestled in the upper most part of my ass crack to my perfect labia. He is probably drooling at the thought of tasting me. His thumbs come dangerously close to grazing my vulva, and I realize he is holding his breath. He is tense. He is losing the ability to resist temptation. He is waiting for me to slap him across the face for taking liberties he does not deserve.

I roll over and sit up. I come to my knees so we are navel to navel. I grab his boner with an unyielding grip and place the other hand around his neck. His hands remain at his sides uncertain of where they should be.

“Are you ready to worship me?” I ask despite knowing the answer.

He nods as I feel his cock throbbing in my hand.

“Do you want to make me cum?” I tease.

He nods obediently, and I lead his mouth to my erect right nipple.

“Harder,” I hiss.

And he latches on sucking harder and flicking his tongue. His fingers pinch my left nipple as he lays in the crook of my arm. I feel myself growing wet and begin to rub my clit. I still have him my the throat with my other hand. The massage coupled with his eagerness to please me are the greatest aphrodisiacs I have experienced in some time. I cum all over my fingers and push him away.

“Lick my pussy,” I demand. He quickly assumes a position on his stomach between my legs. He is so excited that he forgets himself and places his hands on my hips. I decide to be nice for now, and I allow him to run his fingers up and down my thighs. He licks up my juices from my first orgasm and makes quick work of giving me my second one.

“Again,” I say as I push him onto his back.

Now I am straddling him. I look down at the dark spot growing in his navy blue boxers.

“Are you excited? Are you pre-cumming for me a little?” I ask.

He confirms that being in the presence of a mistress such as myself is overwhelming and intoxicating. I grab his hard little dick and place my other hand around his throat with his Adam’s apple bobbing between my thumb and forefinger. I lean down bringing my face close to his. We rub noses. He looks like he is expecting a kiss, but slaves don’t get kisses.

“Are you ready to be smothered?” I ask. He nods vigorously.

I release my grasp on him and stand up. He lays there waiting. The lynx has cornered the hare again. The hare’s heart is hammering away, and his eyes are wide. The lynx walks in a wide circle. His excitement is palpable. I swear I can smell his nervousness. At his feet, I crawl on to the bed on all 4’s. I grab the legs of his boxers and pull them down and off in one quick movement. I slowly stalk back to the head of the bed and take a seat straddling his face.

His tongue expertly finds my clit, and he begins licking. He gives me one long lick from front to back. Then he focuses on my clit and starts sucking. I grab his wrists and hold him down. His dick throbs in front of me making me laugh. I cannot help but swivel my hips with pleasure smearing my juices all over his chin. I see little beads of pre-cum forming on the head of his cock.

“Do you like the way I taste?” I ask. I feel mhmmm as a mere vibration of an answer.

“Does being smothering by my big booty and being forced to lick me make you hard?” I ask.

Again a muffled mhmmm that I feel as a pleasant hum against my pussy is his answer. I let go of his wrists, but only because his hands are turning pink. One long strand of pre-cum slides down his cock in front of me. I lean forward and blow a stream of air around the head. He gets squirmy.

“I don’t like squirmy seats,” I say as I swat at his greedy little cock to remind him to focus.

He moans beneath me and places his hands on my ass pulling my pussy deeper into his mouth. And just because I like it when he moans into my pussy, I give him another firm tap on the balls. His toes curl either in ecstasy or agony. I feel the pressure building as I rock back and forth on his face until I reach my third orgasm. I come screaming on his face.

His face is slick from the nose down when I climb off. He lays there chest heaving up and down. Now he does not look away. He is not afraid to look me in the eye. It is almost as if my pussy has given him courage. The taste of me has emboldened him. This change in him annoys me. I flip him over and slap his pale hairy butt. I spank him until his skin reddens. He cries out, but I know it is all an act. He loves to be punished and used. Spanking is not enough. I take the mug containing the rest of the coconut oil and pour some down his crack. I rub the oil in. He arches his backside toward me, so I grab the big pink dildo from the nightstand. I rub the head of the cock around his puckered anus. He stiffens. He knows what is coming. He both fears and longs for this kind of feeling.

Slowly the head penetrates him. He grunts. So I add a little more coconut oil to the situation. I rub it on the shaft of the dildo and around on his cheeks. Each thrust makes him moan and groan in a lustful yet pained kind of way. I wiggle the head around testing to see what I should do next. I insert the dildo a little deeper. His breathe catches. He buries his face in his grey pillow. I work the dildo at the depth where it is. I give him one more hard slap on the ass. An angry red hand print remains. I add more coconut oil and gradually am able to fit the entirety of the pink dildo inside. I try to find the balance between pleasure and pain as I work his tight hole. He grasps at his comforter and sheets and huffs and whines into his pillow.

“Fine. That’s enough,” I cede.

And I pull the dildo out. That will teach him look me in the eye so brazenly.

I feel his eyes follow me as I walk out to the living room. I pour myself another glass of wine. I search in my bag for my mini magic wand, a condom, and a length of satin. I return to the bedroom with him now unable to look away. It is like he is in a trance.

“Even though I really have no use for your cock, I am going to let you feel my pussy,” I tell him.

He does not let his excitement show on his face for fear that I will rescind my kind offer, but the tension in his body betrays him. I take the length of satin and bind his hands together above his head. His cock throbs and is practically jumping and twitching with prurience as I hover over him. He looks down at my mons so close to his hard member, and he pleads for release with his eyes but keeps his lips pursed together.

I lean down and whisper in his ear, “Are you ready?”

He nods and says yes. I roll down the rubber, and I sit just on the head. He and I let out moans in unison. Slowly I sit back and take all of him in. He isn’t very big, so it’s not that hard to take his greedy little dick. I bounce up and down effortlessly and lean forward holding his hands above his head. I turn on my wand and set it to level 2 out of 5. The vibrations feel good for us both. I feel the walls of my pussy hug his increasingly throbbing cock as I ride him and stimulate my clitoris. But I don’t want him to cum yet. Not before me.

So I lean back, spread my lips, and focus my toy on my clit. I turn my wand up to level 3 and feel my juices flowing down his cock making his balls slick. Orgasm four was amazing. I place my left hand on his chest, which glistens with sweat making the soft brown hair lie flat, and feel his heart hammering under my fingers.

“Should I keep going?” I ask slyly.

He pleads for me to continue. I give his cock a few bounces. I feel him squirming beneath me, so I tap his balls three times. His soft pink balls contract at my touch. I turn my wand back on to three and enjoy myself.

I ride him hard. I feel a trickle of sweat roll down my back. It tickles as it slips between my shoulders blades and down to my lower back. I lean in and grab him by the throat again.

“Cum for me,” I hiss in his face.

He promises he will. I turn my wand up to four. Our hips move together and our breathe becomes labored. His thrusts beneath me become more intense. I know that he is close to cumming, and I am finally willing to grant him this indulgence. I feel him cum for me, and the sensation of him spilling his hot load warming my pussy pushes me over the edge to orgasm five.

He thanks me for being such a wonderful and beautiful mistress while I free his hands. I gently place my hand on his cheek.

“Suck on my nipples one more time,” I ask without asking.

And he does. He switches between breasts paying equal attention to both. We are both still damp from the effort of orgasming, but it does not matter. Our sweat mixes together in this close proximity and creates a sweet and musky fragrance. I turn on my wand one final time. I set it to level five. My clitoris is sensitive from all my prior orgasms, but I am determined to have one last orgasm. This orgasm builds more quickly than expected, and I begin to tremble as he continues sucking on my nipples. I place my hand at the nape of his neck and hold him close to me as I feel myself begin to cum. Finally I am satiated. I release him. I get up to finish my wine and go.

Source: reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/hw1ibm/breakfast_femdom