The Artful Dancer [Str8] [MF] [Mdom] [Fdom] [anal]

The front door was unlocked, just as he said it would be. Music echoed through the house. He hadn’t said where in it he’d be, but she knew his location. He’d be out by the pool. He always had to revel in his perceived power.

Through the foyer. Past the kitchen. She saw it. The wide chair, back to the house, a head visible atop it. A table she knew what was on in front of it. Back straight, she walked out to the chair, her stilettos clacking the stone slabs of the deck into submission.

She stopped behind the chair, well aware he’d known of her presence from the moment she’d entered the house.

“What’s the weapon for?” She hadn’t seen it, but she knew it was there. Now she glanced. Two guns. Glock and bullpup rifle. *Surprise, surprise*.

“Not for you, don’t be afraid,” he said. He reminded himself again how bad of an idea this was. One scream from her and the police report would say he held her against her will. At gunpoint. There would be no witness to say otherwise. His whole life would be over. House lost. Job toast. The only car he’d get to keep would be the new coupe that looked entirely too good for weighing over 2 tons and being unable to hold a decent suitcase. She had only hinted. Maybe he’d read her wrongly? Had he been driven to madness by her every word touching a part of him he kept well hidden, as if she’d known exactly where to touch? What on Earth had made him think this was a good idea?

“I’m not afraid of who you are,” she whispered from her lips, now next to his right ear.
With the muscle of control of a python, she slithered over the top of the chair, her torso sliding past his chest. Her breasts passing his, then her tummy, then her hips. She caught her descent with her hands on the ground and threw hair back.

The Glock 17 and Tavor X95 greeted her from the table. Not for her. They were for him. To remind him that although he was entranced by her, he was ultimately the one in power. It was his guard. Others might have been terrified. Never her. She had never met him, but she knew him. The messages had offered an open window.

Speaking of window, she swung her left leg over his head. Her short, tight mini dress had long crested her ass, which was now just below the level of his head.

“To your liking, my lord?” She asked the magic words.

He stared at the seat of her polka dot thong. “Yes, how did you kn-“

“Shhhh” she said. “Spread it.”

A couple twitches of her tailbone and legs made her cheeks and thighs shake. The feeling of cool air across her vulva informed her that he’d exposed her, as she said.

He was wordless. Dumbstruck, she knew. Senses overloaded. She had him.

“Smack it.”

He smacked her ass.

“Again.”

His fingers seemed to break the sound barrier before the large hand connected with her bare skin. She spread an ass cheek and winked her asshole at him. Slowly beginning her gyrations, she knew he wanted to fuck right there and then, but he had bound himself with invisible chains so he could experience all she could do. To see if her bold one-line implied claim was true.

She was a drug he needed. Rarely taken, voraciously ingested. She could feel herself enter his bloodstream. Even the skin on his legs suddenly felt different.

Her former gymnast body pirouetted to face him. His head between her calves, as her mound described ellipses of varying radii. Her eyes locked with his.

*Yes, Imperator. All hail you. But through MY eyes, and in MY name all your victories are won. Everything you do is for me. Everything you do is to enable this. I am your goddess. It terrifies you you could be under such a spell as this.*

She nodded as she glanced at the peaks of her tits. He pulled them out on cue, inhaling as he did. Filling his lungs with her scent.

And there it was. His hands folding her upper body to him. The sudden motion would have jarred most women’s spines; not hers. Former gymnasts who quit solely because they were too tall – and had gained considerable physical skills since – didn’t flinch at stuff like that. He could tie in her a knot and she’d barely bat an eyelid.

His lips and teeth arrested her nipples. His symbols of power impotent, forgotten. She felt the guns fade from his vision. His new grand touring coupe with the letter logo disappeared from his memory. His entire consciousness was filled with her.

*Yes. Take your cock out. Right on schedule. This what I do to you. Hmmm thong still on. This isn’t public, no need for pulling to the side.*

“Take ‘em off” she breathed. His respect for any rules she had was bridling his desire, she realized, as she leaned back and swung her legs upright, her body making an L in his lap. His fingers hooked underneath the lacy item, her skin tingling as its elasticity propelled it up her thighs and over her knees and calves. They cleared her ankles and she shook her thighs in celebration, smiling and biting her lip.

The surge of energy she knew would come from that hit her like a Pacific wave. Which she surfed enthusiastically, spreading her labia with one hand while pushing herself toward his waist with the other hand. Her pussy was awash in anticipation of the power both bestowed upon it and summarily impressed on it as his head parted her inner labia.

She gyrated her hips slowly, urging him inward. “Oooooh fuuuuuuck!” she gasped, inhaling sharply through clenched teeth.

His hands were on her breasts, squeezing like vices as he invaded her cunt.
“Goodbye, tiny dress,” she said cheekily, lifting it off over her head with reckless abandon, laughing as she heard it plop into the pool behind them. No worries, she was gonna be here for a while. Hot though it was, the altar of his desire was not a swift burn. Her knowledge of this surprised her, but was jolted out of her mind by the stiff rod now embedded within her.

“Stroke my pussy, yeah” she said, her legs now down to the chair to ride him. He was unhooking her bra.

“Don’t know why I wore that. Fucking pointless with you,” she joked.

He laughed, his silence preferring introvert mind struggling to deal with her speech as grinded on him. She arched her back as she did so. *The Glock*. She laughed internally at what she was about to do.

“Watch this,” she said, moving her hips in a circular path as she palmed the weapon from the table. *Careful now. Hmmm, loaded. Eject magazine*. He’s transfixed. *Chamber clear*.

“Holy fuck” he breathed.

She winked. Her tongue went around the tip of the barrel. His eyes widened, pupils dilated. *Yes, I love your power. Your force doesn’t scare me.* The entire barrel was in her mouth, like a toy. Metallic. But meticulously clean, exactly as she expected it to be. Arched all the way back now, one hand supporting her upper body. Head inverted, gun going in and out of her mouth as he fucked.

*Yes, I both conquer and am neutralized by your power <insert his name>. I love being filled by all that you are.*

*Contraction time.*

Her pussy coiled around the thick serpent within her like an anaconda itself. She felt him battling to get over the hump of excitement, beyond which he’ll last forever. Not this time, though.

“Tonight your fortresses fall, my lord. Cum.” She slowly raised her hips and lowered them repeatedly. Nodding to him while looking him in the eye.

? She’s just like candy, she’s so sweet ? said the music.

Soft nod, more deliberate slow rising and falls. A clench of her kegels got a strong pulse in response.

*And there it is.*

*Every lie you tell.*

*Every hour you work.*

*Everything that is you.*

*Serves this moment.*

*All into me.*

*And I love it, my Emperor.*

Perhaps moments had passed since he felt himself pump his essence into her. Perhaps years. He was unaware of the passage of time.

“You OK?” she asked cheekily.

“Yeah, I …”

“Shhhh.” She placed a finger over his lips. “I’ll be here all night if you want me to.” She winked again and kissed him.

“I do.”

“Sure?” *Of course you do*. She flashed a smile and tossed her hair.

“Yes.”

“Nice X95, by the way.”

“Yeah how did y-“

“Magic. A most deeply unsatisfying answer,” she replies with her tongue out. “What’s the trigger pull on that thing? 4 or 6 pounds?”

“8.” It had been 5 up to the previous week. Current events had spurred the change, irrelevant as it may have been.

“Of course, restraint.” *Ha*.

“You’ve seen the news. Responsible operator, not a nut. I swear.” He practically coughed the words out, the academic within him challenging every syllable. *How many people died because “responsible op-*

“Cumming inside someone you just met sounds pretty fucking responsible.” She poked him in the ribs. And then lay against his chest, still hosting his cock, a new guest with unlimited stay privileges. Her hair and the scent of her shampoo and perfume in his face. Enjoying his fingertips tracing up and down her back.

**Prologue 1:**

“You think that Glock will fit in my ass?”

“You wanna try?”

“NOT ON YOUR LIFE, MISTER.” She slapped his chest. “After you stretch my ass, perhaps we’ll see.”

**Prologue 2:**

Wrapped in a towel, she cradled the X95, having emptied the magazine and cleared the chamber, staring down its sight.

“You’re very familiar with those, aren’t you?” he said, struggling to control his words as the throes of ASMR washed over him.

“In answer to the question you’re really asking, I could’ve killed you if I wanted. Could blow you away right now. Really need to watch who you invite over, Mister.”

“Hahaha.”

“Good thing it was me. Otherwise I’d have met you in a news headline. ‘Sugar Land Man Found Shot to Death By Pool.’ Must admit, I’d have been slightly irritated if that happened.” Her voice betrayed a hypothetical reaction far more substantial than slight irritation.

“How’d you know I wouldn’t hurt you?”

“Defender/inspector/enforcer personality type. It’s against your basic coding. Besides, couldn’t find anything alarming about you anywhere.”

“You thought pretty deeply about this.” He found himself suddenly thinking deeply about her having thought about it. And having been so sure. *What i-*

In a whirl of legs, the towel was gone. Legs crossed and in the air. “Here’s what I think.” Her hand pulled a cheek aside to reveal a gemplug. Her toes pointed and traced a line on his shoulder. “Yeah I snuck it in when you went to get us drinks. I’m not about to pull it out. That’s your job.”

**Prologue 3:**

“How’d you learn to dance like that?”

“How do you know I can dance? I knew I’d only have to last a couple minutes. I think that’s what you call ‘Managed Risk,’ right Mr. ‘I’m like an iceberg?’” Cheeky grin.

**Soundtrack:**

Doja Cat – *Candy*. You’ll have to look it up, as per the rules links may be problematic (I’m new to the sub, sorry!)

Source: reddit.com/r/sexystories/comments/82d96m/the_artful_dancer_str8_mf_mdom_fdom_anal