Queen Bee

Most of my stories, so far, have been about me being submissive. I like a nice strong man on top of me most of the time. But every once in a while, it's nice to have my husband be my servant, for a little while.

Having him go down on me is incredibly relaxing. It's nice to feel the directness of the pleasure as his tongue licks me down there. He'll usually do it to me just about any time I want. He enjoys the flavor, the smell and the way I react when he does it.

The only problem is that I usually end up being at his mercy. He's a ruthless tease. It feels so good that I end up begging him to do more, begging him to make me come. It's OK, since he always finishes me off eventually, but sometimes I want it the other way around. Sometimes I want the control.

When I'm in one of those moods, I take charge and turn oral sex into an opportunity to dominate my husband.

A few days ago, I was feeling extremely horny and wanted a good hard come, done my way. I decided to go all out.

He likes to take a nap when he gets home from work. That day, I let him go right to bed instead of the usual talking to him and finding out how his day went. I even tucked him in and made him nice and comfy. He knew something was afoot, but he also knew enough to keep silent and enjoy it.

About three hours later, I went to our main bathroom, showered, put on one of his favorite perfumes and slipped into a short, black, silk-satin nightgown. It may seem like a lot work, getting myself ready for him in order to dominate him but it's the particular style that I wanted at that moment. I wouldn't have gone to the trouble if I were going to be on top and take him, but this time I was being a seductress. This time I was going to manipulate him rather than taking him.

I turned off all of the lights in the house and lit a few candles to take into the bedroom with me.

When I entered the room, he was fast asleep. That's pretty typical. He usually sleeps for four hours or so when he takes an afternoon nap. My preparations had taken about a half hour so he had another half hour of nap in him. The timing was deliberate. I wanted him rested but not quite at full strength. He's more suggestible that way.

I placed the candles around the room and climbed in bed on the "wrong side" (to his right as he lays on his back).

He didn't wake up, so I leaned over him and put my perfumed wrist up to his nose. That, followed by a few gentle strokes and kisses, was enough to bring him around, but leave him just a little groggy. He was quite happy to wake up for me, especially since he had had almost the right amount of sleep.

I kept him on his back and leaned over him to kiss him. After the first kiss, I whispered, "I want you to go down on me. I want you to do it my way." He grinned at me, expectantly and I confirmed for him, "Yes, when you're done, you can have me, as long as I can lay back and not have to do anything."

That's our usual devil's bargain. His servitude for as long as I want it, traded for my weak defenseless body afterward. He readily agreed and made room for me to slide over to the middle of our king sized bed. He knew where to start. I laid back.

He began by kissing me passionately on the lips, lighting up the nerves around my mouth. I took his hand and put it on my chest, silently directing him where to touch me through my nightgown. His hands did a wonderful job of warming me up, not that I needed a lot of help.

After I was ready for him to move on, I took his face from mine and began to point to places on my body where I wanted to be kissed. Usually, when we make love, we don't speak. We don't need to. Besides, we like to hear the small sounds of breathing and blankets rustling.

I pointed to the nape of my neck on the left side, the side closest to him, and he gently nibbled. There was a little dab of perfume waiting for him behind my ear. The perfume works like a drug on him, inflaming his passion and breaking any will he may have had to resist.

He nibbled his way back to that little spot behind my ear that tickles so nicely and sends goose bumps all over my body.

After just a moment, he moved up to the ear itself and nibbled for a while, especially the ear lobe. He carefully removed my earring with his teeth. I turned my head to him and allowed him to remove the other one. They were the kind with loops and no backs so it was a simple matter of slowly withdrawing them through the holes. Of course, he had to use his tongue and lips to avoid hurting me, and that drove me nuts.

Once the earrings were off, I pointed to the spot at the base of my neck, just to the side of my throat, where I like to get hickeys. He gave me a really good one, taking his time, using mostly his tongue and lips. By this point, I was very wet, and my legs were stretching and parting involuntarily. I was beginning my internal battle for control of myself, a battle I had to win in order to stay in control of him.

I guided him down to my breasts, allowing him to slip the spaghetti straps from my shoulders so he could access the nipples. He licked and kissed and sucked on both breasts in spirals, according to patterns I drew on them with my finger. There were little bits of perfume in the warm spots below and between to reward him and further intoxicate him.

When I was ready, I drew my finger down my tummy, straight down from my nipple to the edge of my "V". I avoided the belly button; that tickles too much. He kissed the line slowly and obediently. It was incredible. Once he was at the corner of the triangle, he moved between my legs and gently lifted the edge of my nightgown.

I put an extra pillow under my head so I could see him and reach him easily. I also handed him the breathing tube. It lets him continue to breath while his face is buried deep between my legs. That way, he doesn't need to come up for air. I wasn't going to let him.

He was on his hands and knees, between my legs, awaiting my instructions. I let him stay there for a moment so I could see him in his submissive posture. I smiled at him and put my finger at the left corner of my triangle, indicating where he should begin.

As he bowed to my nest of coarse dark hair, my hand slipped behind his head and brought him down exactly where I wanted him. I didn't really need to do that; he already knew where to go; but this wasn't informative. I was taking complete bodily control. He was the drone to my queen bee.

I pushed his head firmly and forcefully into the corner, where there was another small spot of perfume waiting, and pressed his lips into the exact spot that I wanted kissed. It tickled horribly but that didn't matter any more. My legs and hips wiggled involuntarily from the tickling but I kept him in place with my hand behind his head.

It was OK for me to loose a little control now, since I had him physically pinned down. I could still control him even though I couldn't completely control myself.

After a moment, I wrapped my legs around his back and squeezed, holding him to me. His hands ran up my thighs and under my hips to squeeze me as he kept kissing, sucking and licking on that one little spot off in the corner. He wasn't in my pussy yet. He was close.

A few minutes of that was all I needed.

Taking hold of his ears with both hands, I massaged them with my fingertips and thumbs. It was his warning that I was about to start moving him.

I moved him over to the center, putting his lips at the top, well outside my lips, on that pressure point where I put my thumb when I'm doing my own touching.

My left hand switched to the back of his head while the right continued to play with his earlobe. I pushed him down harder, wanting pressure against me, and wanting more feeling of domination over him.

He resisted - tried to pull his head up. I smiled, silently thanking him as I squeezed his ear between my fingers and pulled him in harder with my left hand. It hurt him a little but not too much since I didn't use my fingernails.

His muffled whine of displeasure was enough to get me going. I squeezed harder until we both knew it was hurting a little too much. I sustained the pressure a moment to hear his increasingly loud, but still muffled, moans of pain, then I eased up.

We both need that. The vast majority of the time, he's in control. He can do pretty much anything he wants, simply by pushing my emotional buttons and taking advantage of me. I love it, and I love the way he manipulates me, but every once in a while I need to do this to him just to remind him and remind myself who's really in charge.

As we all know, a man's only real purpose in life is to service his woman. Earning a living, helping raise children and all of that other stuff is busy work. We both need to be restored, if only for a moment, to our proper places in the scheme of things.

His needs are met as well as mine. There's something in him that gets off when I demand this from him. When I take charge, the one thing I usually want him to do is to get between my legs and pleasure me with his face. For him, it's also an unspoken admission of how much I want him.

I'd had enough preliminaries. I returned my hands to grip the tops of his ears and pushed him farther down and in, pinching just enough to hear a slight yelp. His tongue and lips went just inside the top ridge, just above my center, and began to go to work on me. I started to melt. His hands kneaded my bottom from underneath and I felt my control slipping away...

No... Not yet...

I squeezed his ears hard and made him yelp again, just for an instant. I could feel the vibration of the sound as I heard it, muffled by my muff. I squeezed once again, a little harder but just for a moment. He whimpered and started to pull away. That was enough.

I tightened my legs around his head and pulled him in, increasing the pressure on his ears but not squeezing. His sounds turned darker, like a lion consuming his prey. He was enjoying it and my lack of willpower was hidden from his mind. All he knew was that I was being more demanding and forcing him to pleasure me. He was distracted enough to not sense my internal struggle.

It only took a minute of this to restore my emotional state and my self-control, but I continued a moment longer, enjoying the pressure of his face on me.

Satisfied with the preliminary licking, I used my thumbs on the top of his head to push him lower. It was time for him to begin in earnest. His tongue swarmed over my lips and clit and briefly entered me below. I moaned and arched my hips to him, giving him better access and pulling him in even more with my feet around his shoulders and head.

Closing my eyes and listening to him slurp and lick, I held him there and smiled as my servant did my bidding.

I can't get this feeling any way other than from his mouth on my pussy. I've tried using my hands, vibrators, and even the occasional visit of another lover between my legs, but there's no substitute. No one, man or woman has ever figured out how to do me the way he does. But, since he does it on my command, whenever I want it, that's good enough for me.

To keep my composure, I didn't let him tease me on his own. He had to tease me my way and at my pace. The teasing was to end whenI said it would end.

He told me a couple of years ago that he likes to spell words in capital letters around my clit with his tongue. An "A" is when his tongue angles up from my right, almost brushing the head as it goes just above it and then back down at an angle to the left, followed by a little flick underneath for the crossbar.

You can imagine what the letters "O" and "G" and "U" feel like...

Well, when I want specific control of what he's doing, instead of his usual excruciating teasing, I give him words to spell. I started with "ELEPHANT". The sound of that one word broke the silence that had reigned for the better part of an hour.

ELEPHANT. That's seven times his tongue crosses the tip, coming at it from all directions. Oh how Ilove ELEPHANTs. I made him do two more.

After that, I needed a little rest, so I told him to give me a trillion. That's a one with twelve zeros. It's a good way to keep myself at a plateau. My heart was racing and my breathing getting slower and deeper.

At the end of the zeros, I was ready for something intense, so I had him spell "GIGGLES" a whole bunch of times. It's very silly and ticklish with lots of swirls and flicks. It makes me giggle while he's doing it.

That got me close enough to coming that I let him continue freestyle, meaning he could work his magic on me and take me over the edge his way, but with no teasing allowed. It's his secret method I told you about. He won't tell me how he does it and it's the one secret I allow him to keep.

It didn't take but half a minute to bring me to my first orgasm.

I clamped down on him to keep him in place, not that I needed to.

He took me to three more orgasms, nice hard ones; then I told him to stop.

Another nice thing about being in control: I can wait while I come down from an orgasm and have him start the next one exactly when I want it. It's a real trip.

I said, "start" and he started licking me off. When I had come a second time, I said, "stop" and he withdrew his tongue and let me rest. That's all I had to do, tell him to start and stop.

I got it exactly the way I wanted, for as long as I wanted it. Eight times. That was enough. God only knows how fast or slow it was, how much time elapsed. Orgasm time has nothing to do with a clock.

In the end, though, it's not the number or quality of orgasms that makes it so good and it's certainly not the length of time. It's the rush of having him serve me, do whatever I tell him to, and the fact that he enjoys doing it. Having a really strong, sexy hunk of a man bow down and worship me, there's nothing else like it.

My desire to be in control doesn't last beyond my orgasms.

Once I came down from the high of it all, I released him and he straightened up, with his beard and face dripping wet. I tossed him the towel that we keep in the headboard for him to dry off with. It took only a few seconds and then he looked at me from above.

That's when my mood changed. He loomed over me and caught his breath. My strength had drained from my body. I no longer cared what he did as long as I could just lay there and enjoy it.

It's a familiar plot: Having completely satisfied me, he uses my weakness to his advantage and begins to take his pleasure on me. The Devil comes to claim my soul. I give it willingly, the trade having been more than worth it. His hands take my wrists and pin them beside me. His fire and brimstone burn hot as his pitchfork drives into me.

But there's a subtlety to it.

He's a kindly devil. His fierce, animalistic thrusts aren't brutal. They're strong but savored. His restraining hands and chest press me firmly, but he uses only token force to hold me in place. He squeezes hard briefly, just to show me that he can, and forestall any resistance I might think to offer, but we both know I can't resist. My body is weak, my will is expended and my eternal gratitude is laid bare before him. I won't even think of resisting.

The tables are almost fully turned, except that I don't have to do any work. I can just lie there.

This is one of those moments in our lives when I'm truly helpless. I don't care what he does to me, so long as he loves me. His lips descend for a kiss, his face still damp and reeking of sex. My own scent from his face mixes with his sweat and breath, joining forces to drug me as I had drugged him earlier.

My body responds to the narcotic and meets his thrusts. I marvel at the joy of womanhood: that I trulywant to yield to the man who, moments ago, was my willing slave. There's something, some intangible essence that brings me here. It's carried in his scent and even in my own. I'm addicted to it: craving it, needing it, enjoying it, loving it.

My hips thrust, supporting him, helping him, their energy coming from within him, radiating to me through his member deep inside me.

I breathe deeply, willingly taking another dose of the drug. I absorb it and complete my surrender, moaning incoherently. Somehow, my body begins the ascent to yet another orgasm, but I don't care about orgasms any more.

Somewhere deep inside me, I feel the pulse of his seed being delivered. Millions of invaders rush in, seeking to change my life forever. He doesn't ask permission. He never does. As the invaders arrive, my orgasm begins. My doors open to welcome his minions. I'm a willing collaborator, conceding my keep and castle to his conquerors.

I wonder if this will be the moment when I conceive his child.

In the space of a few minutes, I've gone from queen bee to... well... queen bee, I guess.

Why? Why don't I stay in control? Why do I usually lie back for him in the end?

It's simple, really... It just feels so damned good.