Fish Out Of Water Ch. 01

Forcing me to tart myself up, however generically and uncomfortably, for a night on the town, she'd dragged me off to meet some of her friends at a local bar, methodically proceeding to get me drunk. Not as drunk as she was by night's end, thank heavens, but drunk enough for me to tell her I'd met Max.

She'd leapt up, punching the air like a lunatic before hugging me hard, telling me it was fate in action. I'd told her that he was now happily married but she slurred something about Brad and Jen and Angelina and knocked back my vodka and tonic before yelling out for another. She was so drunk I was worried, but as she ran out onto the dance floor and grabbed the nearest body to cling to, I saw the joy in her face and relaxed. She would most likely end up puking in the cab home but for now she was flying high, happy that I was happy. In her alcohol-fuelled bliss she could not realise that meeting Max again was tearing me apart.

As expected, by dawn's early light Sarah was a mess; quite possibly the world's worst hangover. She lay pale and miserable on the sofa as I took Elvis out for his morning ablutions. Wandering along the road, the brisk air filling my lungs and no longer feeling like I had been poisoned, I asked myself a series of questions. Did I want to make Max happy? (Yes). Did I want to do this to him, for him? (Yes). Could I do for him what I'd done for countless others, men and women who meant less to me than lint? (Yes). Why was I dragging my heels? (Fear; fear of failure, fear of recognition, fear of falling).

Elvis yowled and began turning in the ubiquitous circles I'd begun to understand meant release and I smiled. It didn't matter what I did or didn't do, the world would keep on turning. At best, Max would find his pleasure and I would get to make him happy one last time. At worst, he would recognise me, or perhaps find me lacking, and either way I could just jump on the first train back to Jules. Elvis squatted and I pulled the baggie out of my pocket along with my phone, preparing for the inevitable.

...

"So now is a good time to discuss boundaries... Is there anything you absolutely do not want me to do to you?"

Max craned his neck to stare at me, his eyes following me as I endlessly paced the hotel room. He was naked, arms and ankles tethered to the headboard at either end of the explicitly requested sleigh bed. Bound by a pair of Ann Summers faux fur handcuffs, purchased in town, and some bungee cords I'd picked up the day before from the local service station.

As me, I would have revelled in undressing him, taking my time to trace each inch of skin as his body was unveiled to me, tasting him and licking up the fragrant desire as it rippled from his body. As me, I would have latched onto his nipples, knowing how sensitive he was there and laved him as I'd done a hundred times before, then slowly kissing down to his pulsing cock, before gently taking him into my mouth and welcoming him home. But I wasn't me now, I was Her. And whilst Kate knew all of Max's hot spots She did not.

"Please... do everything. I want you to... please."

As he'd stripped, he'd shyly asked me what he should call me and I'd hesitated. Normally I insist on Mistress but everything about this situation threw me off my game. I'd asked him what he wanted to call me and he'd stared, his torso bare and his hands on his fly. "Mia" he'd whispered, "You look like Mia Wallace from Pulp Fiction." I smiled and motioned for him to fully undress. I leant over him prone, aroused body on the double bed, straddling him to better fit his bonds. He'd struggled a little but I'd hushed him, telling him to trust me, that I wouldn't hurt him more than he could handle.

He'd smiled up at me and I bent to brush my lips over his face, gently sucking the tip of his tongue. I'd wanted to do more, to cup his face in my hands and properly kiss him, to strip the trench coat from my body and sink down onto his hard cock, already burnished with his desire. Never had vanilla sex excited me so much, certainly never to this fevered state in which I found myself. Yet I stepped back, preferring to pace the short length of this pedestrian chain hotel room.

"What about fucking Max? Can I sit on your face? Would you let me ride that glorious erection until I come all over you?"

He sucked in a breath while I held mine. It didn't really matter, as I rarely screwed my subs anymore, but I wanted, I needed, to hear him say it. Usually my married clients didn't give a shit about their wives, giving me free reign to do as I wished (Not that I did, but boundaries needed to be set). Max, however, trembled and I moved towards him, wondering if his restraints were too tight.

As I checked his wrists he sobbed, "I love my wife... I do. But I need this... for me. I.. I can't explain it..."

I smoothed his hair from his forehead and smiled, pleased that he was struggling as much as I was. However far apart our true struggles may have come from.

"It's okay Max. I understand. But this is about you; and me. It's about what I can give you that she can't. And it's not her fault at all, or yours. Maybe after this you can talk to her more openly about what you need."

His eyes seemed huge in his face as he nodded, but we both knew that conversation would never happen. As brave as he'd been asking me to peg him, asking the mother of his child to do so was a very different conversation.

He shook as I traced my fingers down his sternum and spread them to flutter against his beaded nipples. As expected, he groaned lustily as I rubbed the tiny nubs, using my experience of his body against him. I stroked and rubbed, pulled and pinched, before continuing my leisurely journey down to his stomach, tracing each inch of his body with my finger tips, lulling him into a relaxed dreamlike state.

I stroked him everywhere but his cock, massaging his thighs and calves with firm practised strokes, tickling the soles of his feet, massaging his shoulders as he bucked and writhed beneath me.

Standing, I removed my trench coat , baring my body to his wide eyed gaze. I heard his intake of breath as he perused my body, knowing I'd dressed exactly as he desired, without him having to request it. Thigh high stockings and suspenders, sheer panties and a black basque which nipped in at the waist and displayed my breasts like a medieval bar wench. Totally generic and not particularly comfortable but I smiled as Max hissed as he ogled the stockings and once again, I wanted to laugh at my nerve for playing him like a violin.

"Turn for me Max."

He stared, his eyes never leaving my lower body as I moved closer. The bungee cords were drawn taut but still had enough give to allow him to move onto his stomach. He shook his head slightly as I helped him over, his head whipping around to focus once again on me. He moaned as his erection hit the mattress and based on the series of wriggles he was enjoying the sensation as much as the view.

I straddled his waist and continued my massage, purposefully gripping him with my thighs, allowing him to feel the 10 denier stockings brush his skin as I slid down to sit on his buttocks. He sighed with pleasure as I reached to fill my palm with unscented oil, and proceeded to work the muscles in his back, pressing down hard and digging my thumbs into his spine. He moaned, surprising me by rearing up and unseating me. I slid my oiled fingers around to pluck his nipples again, delighting in his sobs of pleasure.

"Please suck my nipples... please!"

My right hand struck his buttock at the exact second my fingers pinched his nipple. He yelped and I covered his body with my own, sliding my oiled hands down over his stomach. I felt his cock head brush my hands and slowly circled him, touching him far too lightly to have any effect. Max tried to press against me, to increase the pressure, but couldn't, leaving him completely at my mercy.

"You don't give me instructions Max, not even when you say please. Begging won't work here. Do you understand me?"

"Yes Mia."

I returned to stroking his back, moving down to tickle the sensitive skin on his sides, then across to his buttocks. He sighed as I dug my thumbs into his cheeks, pulling them apart roughly before gripping each in my palms. Again and again I massaged his arse, kneading and digging harder on each rotation until I was certain he'd beg me to stop but he didn't. With each touch, Max seemed to purr, my fingers drawing coos and sighs from his lips. His skin was pink, warm from my ministrations.

I cracked my hand down, delighting as the shade morphed into a deeper red. Max trembled but still made no sound and I spanked him again, alternating between his cheeks until both were equally crimson. After 8 strikes on each, Max was rapidly huffing air into his lungs and I stood, pulling him up onto all fours by his hips. He twisted his head to watch me, his face was flushed, his lips pursed as he stared up at me, but there was no anger on his face, only pleasure.

Kneeling I kissed him, gently nibbling his lips as I told him how good he was, how pretty his arse looked with my hand prints on them. Max sobbed and I stole the opportunity to press my tongue into his mouth, excited when his tangled with mine in reply. We shared wet firm strokes as we tasted each other, our heated breath mingling as his unique flavour permeated my senses.

In another time, a kiss like that would have been the prelude to Max removing my clothes and feasting on my body before burying himself inside me, a memory that still ranked as one of my all time favourites. Pulling back I reminded myself that this time the roles were reversed and that before we parted, I would be buried deep inside him.

I cupped his face and he nuzzled into my hand, his lower body pressing into the mattress.

"Did you like me spanking you Max?"

I felt him nod and gripped his chin to make him meet my gaze.

"Words Max; you're the writer. Use your words when I ask you a question. Did you like being spanked?"

"I did. It hurt... at first. But then it didn't. It felt warm and tingly..."

"Did it make you feel naughty Max? Like a bad boy being punished?"

He closed his eyes, "It does Mia. And I loved it. I loved feeling naughty even though I know I'm not really."

I returned to the bed, settling into the space between his thighs and gently rubbed oil into his cheeks. I'd hit him hard but not enough to leave a mark.

"Oh I don't know Max. I'd say asking a woman you just met in a sex club to fuck your asshole is pretty naughty."

I stroked my finger between his cheeks as I spoke and he bucked as I made contact with his sensitive hole. Pouring more oil directly onto his skin, I continued my massage, far more intimately this time as the oil slid down to his balls and thighs. Slipping my hands between his thighs I stroked his cock, pressing it back against his stomach as my palm rubbed his length with firm strokes.

His murmurs increased as I cupped his balls, gently squeezing the heavy sac in tandem with my strokes. Max spread his thighs wider to allow me freer reign over his body and in turn, spread his cheeks apart enough to allow my tongue to lick his crease. Everything seemed to stop in that moment, his pleasure my only focus.

...

It's happened before, men who think they want a rim job freak out the second a tongue flicks them. Not Max. His body seemed to swoon as I laved him, small circles directly where he wanted them most before returning to long lavish licks down to his balls, all the while continuing to stroke and tease him with my hands. He grunted and pressed back into me, wanting more than my gentle teasing, but remaining wordless. I imagined it cost him not to plead for more lest I stop. His balls were full and a few more strokes would set him off but he'd been brave enough to tell me on the phone what he wanted and I'd made a promise to give me what he needed.

Letting go of his dick, I stroked his trembling thighs and pulled his cheeks further apart, blowing air around his exposed anus. Max shivered and I kissed him, a slow series of butterfly kisses over his heated skin. He moaned and his shoulders sagged as his head hit the pillows even as he continued thrusting back into my mouth .

"Does that feel good Max?"

His muffled response was in the affirmative. I gave his tightened balls a quick tug and grinned as his head flew up, twisting to glare at me, "Oh please Max! That didn't hurt you!"

His expression calmed as I squeezed him again gently, returning to the slow seduction he blatantly preferred,

"Remember Max, you gave me permission to do whatever I felt you needed, including inflicting pain if I thought it necessary. Whatever happens, you allowed it to happen... Never without your consent."

He nodded and barked out a breath as I slowly breached his anus with my index finger, " And I could hurt you Max."

His body fought against the intrusion momentarily before loosening, my finger slowly corkscrewing into him, "I could hurt you in a variety of ways Max, but I don't think that's what you really need. You don't need pain Max, you need to feel like a bad boy, a naughty boy... a dirty boy."

He whimpered as I added a second finger to the first, my oiled digits thrusting rhythmically into his arse,

"Am I right Max? Do you want to feel dirty?"

"God yes! Please... Oh Mia, please fuck my arse. I shouldn't want it but it's something I've fantasised for years. I want to be fucked like the dirty boy I am!"

...

He sobbed as I frigged him, pushing my fingers deep, feeling his anus tighten against me. Pressing deep I felt my fingertips rub his prostate and heard his howl of pleasure ripple through the air. Again and again, I stared at the supple skin of his back as I fucked him, my fingers rough against his sensitive flesh and his sighs of pleasure told me I was on the right track. I'd caused pain before, too many times, but now, in this generic room, Max prone and trusting beneath me, every trick left my memory, my body so synched with his I couldn't function beyond this moment.

"You never answered me Max. Would you let me fuck you hard? Ride your mouth? Bury you inside me?"

He hissed as I rubbed the rough skin of his prostate, my other hand squeezing his full balls, "Everything Mia... Everything!"

...

Unbuckling the strap on dildo, I let it drop wetly to the floor. Max was out for the count. Even by my warped standards it had been tame, but never had I felt such a connection. As I'd thrust into him, every wince and hiss had boiled my blood, my body angling to hit him in the perfect spot. Again and again, I'd entered his body, breaching him, holding him tight, angling my phallus to strike him at the perfect angle. He'd screamed at first, his voice a garbled huff before he calmed himself, begging me to take him harder and deeper.

My fingers had left marks on his skin, a schoolboy error, as I'd repeatedly entered him. The strap on was a favourite, a full size phallus complete with a smaller dildo that hit my overheated pussy in just the right places.

I'd fucked him, feeling the pressure against my slit, filling my cunt and imagined the vast pressure inside him as I thrust. Over and over, I pressed, pushing harder and deeper as his cries of pleasure echoed throughout the room. He bucked, crying out, his arse hitched up towards me. I stroked him, gripping his cock in my hands as I pummelled his butt, drawing his orgasm from his body before pressing down on his perineum to slow him down. Over and over, I pushed him to the edge, urged him to plead for his release before starting all over again, my stocking clad thighs pressing hard, forcing his thighs tight against the intrusion of my cock. Max cried out, pleaded for more, for release, for redemption but all I saw was mist before my eyes.

I couldn't hurt him, couldn't break him fully despite his pleas. Whatever happened, I had to send him back to his wife intact, yet every ounce of me wanted to bite him, mark him as my own. Gripping his haunches, I pulled him up, fucking him deep and hard, my thighs shaking as I entered his body. My breath hitched, his seemed to scream out of his throat on a whimper and as I fisted his cock tightly in my hand and felt him spill against my skin for the final time, I rocked luxuriously against him, riding him hard as he gushed into my palm.

He screamed out hoarsely, shouting out my false name as the heat shimmered from his skin. Ordinarily, I'd withdraw and leave, but I pressed deep, covering his body with my own as he trembled, his arse twitching hard enough to force the dildo to rock against my turgid clit. His cries of pleasure rippled throughout my skin, my pussy clutching the plastic hard as I yearned for the feel of his flesh. I needed to flip him onto his back and drive myself to completion but he hadn't really allowed it, my body had driven him to the ultimate goal but I waited, silently hoping he'd give me my own absolution.

He didn't. And I was glad. Some married men could happily fuck around but it made me happy to find out Max wasn't like that.

...

He was so tentative I wanted to hug him, "Can I maybe see you again Mia? I could meet you in London the next time I'm there...?"

"And why would you want to meet me again Max? Didn't we explore everything you asked for on the phone?"

He sighed, rubbing his hand over his face, "We did. You did everything I could ever have imagined. And more. I loved it. And... I... I don't know what to say..."

"Can I try to answer for you Max?"

"You've read my mind perfectly so far tonight Mia so be my guest!"

I laughed as he grinned sleepily up at me, "You loved it so much you're already thinking about it again. Only this time you want to go even further. You're thinking about being spanked with a paddle or a flogger, of being taken harder, deeper, longer."

His eyes shone bright as his cock began to stir.

"The thing is Max, tonight was perfect. It was exactly what you wanted. What you needed. If we met again, it wouldn't feel the same, we'd just be trying to push boundaries that aren't there. You don't need more, you just need exactly what you had. And if you explained what you want to your wife, I'm certain she could give you exactly what I did."

Max scowled as I stood and slipped into my coat,

"You've never met my wife!"

I laughed as I placed my toys back into my bag, "No I haven't Max, but I've met a lot of other wives and trust me, women are a lot more open to this sort of experience than you'd think. They may not want you to do it to them but turnaround is fair play!"

He grinned then sobered as I took a final glance around the room, my hand poised on the door handle,

"So that's a definite no to seeing you again? There's nothing I can say to convince you?"

I shook my head, "Definitely a onetime only deal Max. But I loved it, loved giving you one night of being the dirty boy. Thank you for trusting me to take care of you. You'll never truly know what that means to me."

"If this is all we ever have then I just want to say thank you. For being you and for giving me the best experience of my life. From the very second I first laid eyes on you, I knew you would change me, and you did. So thank you, from the bottom of my heart."

Warm and calm and safe I turned to him , his body weak on the generic hotel bed. His breathing calmed and I gazed once more on the firm yet hairy chest, leading down to the slackened cock that had once brought me hours of pleasure . His now unbound wrists sat heavy against his sides and I prayed that the lotion I'd massaged in would help heal the marks I'd wrought. Despite everything, I wanted him to enjoy this night, and never have to explain himself; at least not until he was ready.

I walked, my legs wobbly, knowing intrinsically that I was walking away from my destiny, that on some level, this man held the key to Kate, had the ability to wrench me apart from the persona I had so unwittingly become. I yearned to stay, to kiss his welts, to sooth his aches. To lavish his aching body with my mouth, my hands, my weeping body. Yet he'd never allowed it and despite my desire, I would never make another yield to me on such an intimate level. Trust and consent, always.