Tell Me You Love Me Ch. 01

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Mister_Shy
Mister_Shy
2,689 Followers

"That gives me an idea," he said.

I looked at it, it was Allison. I realized I had to answer it; otherwise she'd freak out, think something was wrong. Had it been an hour since I'd called her? I still had the brush in hand and the phone was ringing, but I was watching Tom roll the condom onto his dick. This was really going to happen.

"Answer it," Tom said.

I suddenly realized he was going to put it in me when I was on the phone with her.

"Wait," I said. He approached me with his cock in hand, his fingers rolling the elastic down to the base of his shaft.

"I said answer it," he said. "Either say no or do it."

"Is that what you want?"

He had already come up behind me. I could feel his latex dick pressing against my back. I had to answer the phone, no matter what he was about to do, I had to answer it.

I picked it up. "Allison?" I said. I tried to glare at him in the mirror.

"Hey," said Allison. I could already tell that she was slightly faded. Behind me, Tom ran his hands up my back. My legs shook so hard I had to press my stomach against the table to stand straight.

"Has it been an hour?" I asked her.

"Oh, no," she said, sounding embarrassed. "Sara came over with some pot and we're a little fay-do." She giggled at the sing song and I could hear Sara in the background. "Do you want to come over?"

"Um, Allison, I-" Tom bent me over. He bent me over the table and held his hand over the hand that gripped the brush. He held it to the table. In my left hand I held the phone. I couldn't put it down. His left hand pushed into the small of my back. He was going to fuck me. "I-" I started.

"Is everything all right?"

"Allison, I'm a little-" Tom parted my vagina with his fingers and slipped his dick up inside of me. "Oh god!" I shrieked. I pulled the phone away from my mouth and slammed it to the table. Tom's fingers pressed hard into my stomach and pushed himself deep, deep, deeper.

I let out a guttural groan and breathed in. "I'm small," I whispered to him.

"How long has it been?" he said.

"A while," I said, trembling. "Please don't make me talk to her."

"Talk to her."

I was pleading with him even though I knew I could say no. Why wouldn't I say no? My vagina hadn't had anything inside of it in months. I had a dildo but I never used it. I had a vibrator, which I did use, but I wasn't used to this, I wasn't used to his penis. But he paid me. He was inside me oh my God, he was inside me and he was holding my hand to the table.

"How long?" I whispered. He gently put his hand over mine and brought it back to my ear. Sara and Allison were screaming on the other end.

"Kate! Kate! What's happening? Are you okay?"

"Uh huh," I said. Tom pulled out of me. He pushed back in. I couldn't believe he was making me do this. My breasts shivered and swung forward at each of his thrusts. He didn't fuck me hard, not after that first push, not after he loosened me up.

With Bobby- with Bobby it was never this way.

"What's going on?" said Allison. "Are you okay?"

I tried to breathe. "I'm fine," I said. "I'm fine."

"Honey, what's going on?"

"Just took a n-nap," I said. My vagina enclosed around his dick and I couldn't tell if I wanted him to stop or if I wanted him to fuck me harder. He kept up his steady, rhythmic pace.

"Why did you scream?"

"I stubbed my toe," I said. I probably sounded like I had just been running. I shouldn't have been this out of breath but it was the shock more than anything. Tom squeezed my breast and squashed it back against my chest and pushed his cock inside. "Ahn," I said. I hadn't meant to.

"Kate?" said Allison. She'd gone from fearful to quizzical just like that. "Hold on, I need to get some water, can you talk to Sara?"

"No-" I started but she already handed the phone off.

"Hey, Katie," said Sara.

"Hey, Sara," I said. Tom bent down to kiss my back. He licked the sweat that had collected where my hair met my neck. I hated him, I thought. But I didn't say no. "Oh, God, Sara, where's Allison?"

"She's downstairs, honey. Are you okay?"

"I'm fine-" I was tired of saying I'm fine. "I, uh, mmm, did you need anything?"

"You're perfect," I heard Tom whisper.

"Shut up," I hissed back.

"Kate, is there someone there?"

"Just my dad," I said.

"Oh tell him I said hi."

I pressed the phone against my breast and cried out. I didn't want to. I hadn't meant to. I'd meant to say hi, dad, or hello, or- anything, but Tom was fucking me. He was fucking me faster, and I couldn't speak in longer sentences because the sound of getting fucked would have made the words leave my chest breathless. I thought he'd fondle me; I thought he'd try to kiss me and stick it in me. I didn't think it would be like this. I didn't think he'd make me cry out. I cried out because I was scared. I cried out because I'd never had anyone tell me to do this. I cried out because I think I just felt him stick a finger up my asshole.

"Take it out," I whispered.

"Which one?"

"My butt."

"Say 'take your finger out of my ass.'"

"Take your finger out of my ass," I said. He did. He squeezed my left cheek.

"Sorry," he said.

Bobby didn't fuck me this way. He kissed my mouth, he grabbed my tits, he threw me on the bed because I told him to dominate me, because that's what he liked. Then it was off with my shirt, off with my pants, and he was inside, ramming away. Tom was slow. Tom was doing exactly what he wanted to do. And I realized while he kissed my muscles that he was worshipping my body. I don't know if he respected me but he worshipped me.

"I need to hang up," I said.

"Okay," he said.

I pressed the phone back to my ear. Allison was back. "Kate, what are you doing?"

"I'm stretching," I gasped.

"Oh my god, are you having sex?"

"Allison, shut up!" Tom was stretching me. His dick was stretching me. Yes, I wanted to say, Tom is fucking me. He paid me to let him fuck me. He was fucking me because you wouldn't let him fuck you. He was fucking me - please don't tell Bobby, don't tell my dad, don't tell Sara.

"Just kidding, just kidding," said Allison.

"Allison, honey, I need to go," I breathed. I was turned on but I didn't know why.

"Okay, whatever, call me later."

"Okay," I said. I dropped the phone onto the desk and threw my hand down on the table. "I don't want to do that," I said.

"That's what I want," he said. He was still working away at me, slowly, kneading the muscles in my sides and ass and methodically pressing against the walls of my vagina. I wanted him to massage me all over like that.

"You want me to call while you fuck me?" I tried to look at him in the mirror. I couldn't raise my head.

"Yes," he said.

"Who else?"

"Your mother, your father."

I moaned.

He reached forward and caressed my cheek. Our eyes met in the mirror. "Before I cum I want you to say, 'Tell me you love me.'"

My eyes went wide.

He slipped out of me and ran his fingers up my spine. "You don't have to mean it." He tried to smile but he was clearly enjoying himself too much, or trying to keep from cumming, to manage it completely. "I want you to say it."

I felt his balls brush the back of my thighs. He was deep. My vagina clenched around him and I said, "Will you tell me when you're going to cum?"

"I'll tell you to say it."

"Okay."

He ran his hands over my shoulders, ran them down my arms. I wanted to sit down so badly. I wanted to lay back, the way Bobby fucked me. Bobby wanted me on my back or on top. We didn't do it standing up; we didn't do it doggy style, not often. I did suck his cock but I wouldn't suck Tom's cock. I couldn't, I don't think I would. What if he asked me?

"Cat," he said.

"Don't call me Cat," I grunted.

"Say it."

I brushed the hair out of my eyes. I looked up. He was watching me. Always watching me. I realized there was more power here than I suspected. So I said it to him. I wanted to see what he'd do.

"Tell me you love me."

"I love you."

I've seen men cum before. I try not to look at Bobby when he does it, most of the time, mostly because I think it makes him self conscious. My boyfriend before that, George, he would make silly faces and I'd try my hardest not to laugh - then of course I realized he was doing it to make me laugh, and I thought that was sweet. But it didn't make up for a lot of his lesser qualities. I don't know what girls look like when we cum. (Allison tells me that it depends on whether she really wants to cum or not. I've cum when I didn't really feel like it; I don't think my expression changed much.) But men, the men I've slept with anyway, the face is always somewhere between pained and goofy. Tom didn't look either.

When he came (I guess I should say he came in me) his face took on the emotion of absolute relief. As if he'd been carrying a weight the whole time (since before we started fucking, since before I'd known him). His face wasn't totally devoid of that humorous quality, but the pressure inside him was gone. He gripped the skin of my hips with his fingers; his grip tightened - it sent jolts of pressure up my ribs and down my ass (he had strong hands). He quickened his pace. He drove his long cock up into me; I could feel his head in what seemed like the upper chamber of my uterus; and then...

I don't always know when they cum. Sometimes Bobby does it and I've missed it (if I'm looking away). But I felt Tom. It was as if the base of his prick had suddenly swelled to twice its size (I'm sure that isn't true but it felt... it felt like all his blood was traveling up through his vein - you know the one). The whole shaft engorged as well, and stiffened from its already hardened position. I felt all of this in an instant and it wasn't strange to me it was just, like everything, it was just different.

If he wasn't wearing the condom I know I would have felt his jism shooting up into me, spraying my insides. I suddenly realized I was soaked. Had he cum in me? No. It was me. I was wet. Funny.

He wasn't done. I lowered my eyes from his face. He'd been staring at my back and I was staring at him. When he looked into the mirror at my eyes, our gaze met, sort of communicated the situation, and then I looked down at the table. My face was flushed, my hair was now over my eyes. Tom slid his hands up the trim muscles of my abdominals and reached up to cup my breasts. He massaged them; he felt the weight of them against his rough palms (I never would have thought his palms were that rough). All the while his dick kept pulsing.

I felt pinned by it. That's not right. I felt stuck by it. It was definitely between my legs now. Tom, when he came, had flexed down and pushed himself so that I was now on my toes and he was more directly under me. I leaned forward. It was a little painful; my clit was actually being squeezed against the base of the table, which balanced the strain of my labia against his still expanding organ.

"Ahhh." Organ - I should say penis but it felt like an organ then. "Ahhh." I couldn't help the noise I made. I so badly wanted to. Up on my tippy toes was where he had me, fucking me, he'd paid me, fucking me, up on my toes, cumming in me.

This, again, all of this, his hands roving up to my tits, him pushing up into me, this was seconds but it felt so much longer because his dick, when he came, kept pushing, and pulsing. And he came so much I was afraid it would empty out of the base of the condom. How can anyone cum this much, I thought? Bobby didn't cum this much. George could cum a lot but we had sex pretty regularly and it was never...

I gripped the table and tried not to feel as aroused as I was. If I was this aroused I might cum. And if I came, I wasn't sure how I'd feel about that. But having Tom's dick so far up inside me and squeezing like it was, with no sign that it was going to shrink - with every sign that he would continue to ejaculate inside me for hours.

That thought sent a shudder through my stomach. We were both breathing heavily. I counted six distinct pulses of his cock. He was squeezing it out of his body. Into me; into the condom. His fingertips seemed wonderfully dry on the soft, wet skin of my breasts. I felt my nipples harden in his palms. His strokes were very long, very thorough, very deliberate. He'd pull back, slowly, and slide in - not slam - rigorously. It wasn't fast, it wasn't slow - it wasn't even medium he just, slid out, pushed in, squeezed, pulled out, squeezed as he slid in. This was how he wanted to use me, this is what he'd paid for.

"Tell me you love me," I said again. I wanted to hear him say it. I realized he had to say it.

"I love you," he said. His pace quickened. He was still hard.

I gasped and threw my hand against the mirror. The sweat dripped in beads from my hair and my right leg was almost completely off the ground. Don't say it again, I thought to myself. I couldn't help myself. "Tell me you love me," I gasped, the whole time I was watching him. Watching him this time.

"I love you," he said. He was still hard - he was still fucking me - oh God was he still cumming?

"Do you love my body?" I gasped. My stomach was quaking. Bobby, what about Bobby?

"Yes."

I squeezed my eyes shut and pushed back against him. I felt all the nerves in my vagina seize up. I was going to flood against his prick.

"NO!" I screamed. He was thrown by that. I'm sure he thought I was talking to him. I was screaming at myself. I gripped the back of the mirror and panted. He had frozen, perhaps trying to figure out what I wanted him to wait for. I waited for the orgasm to recede, waited for what I wanted to crest at the very edge of my pussy. Why wait for it? If he had pushed just one more time I would have creamed myself. Why couldn't I let myself?

And gradually, slipping in and out of me that way, I felt the skin slacken, his cock wilt, his hands slide down my stomach.

The condom, which I could feel dribble down my soaked inner thighs (we had both sweat profusely, especially down there), dripped out of my body. I quickly pulled my hair over my ear and glanced down. He had a hand on the base, his fingers sliding through the slick fluid. "It didn't get out," he assured me. He gave a soft smile and held up his fingers. "This is from you."

"Okay," I said. "You're sure?"

He nodded sincerely. "Just sweat and the rest of it. Can I use your bathroom?"

"Do you mind if I use it first?"

"Actually I'd like to clean you, if you're okay with that." He gave another soft smile (a spent smile; a peaceable smile). "Cleaning you up is just as fun as dirtying you up."

I tried not to frown too overtly and shook my head. "No I really want to take a shower."

He nodded quickly. "Understood." I strode past him (we were both so naked, I thought, which is stupid). Right before I reached the bathroom door I heard him clear his throat and ask, "Are you all right?"

"Yes," I said.

"Is it all right if I stay to clean up?"

"Yes," I said, and closed the door. I was all right. I was fine. But I wasn't sure if I wanted to do this. Again. At all. If I should have in the first place. I wasn't thinking about Bobby but then I was thinking about Bobby. I was thinking about my parents, and Allison, and when my parents would be coming home and if I would tell Allison. Of course you can't, I thought. Of course you should. And Tom wasn't going to leave until he'd cleaned up! I wanted to tell him to leave now but I didn't for the sheer fact that I just didn't want to talk to him. Every thought I could possibly have buzzed through my brain in an effort to not do what I wanted to do, to not push my fingers into my sopping cunt and make myself cum and scream. I realized I was standing in front of the mirror, not focusing on anything. I reached over and turned the shower knob and let it run for a minute while I took a wet cloth between my legs and made sure everything was copacetic.

Don't cum, I told myself. Don't cum. I didn't find any semen. If he had cum less would I be less worried? Was I worried? Did I enjoy that?

Yes, a little. I did. I hadn't cum and I wasn't going to cum but I was definitely hot and bothered and I didn't think my nipples were going to soften for a good few hours. And my vagina kept giving me a buzz, an insistent, annoying buzz, and the insides (my insides) could still feel his long cock running up there and running out. I sighed very heavily and just breathed for a bit, and shook myself. And saw my breasts jiggle and sway in the mirror and had to laugh at myself.

What was I doing? I let out another tremendous sigh and stepped into the shower. So naked, I thought.

God, Tom had just fucked me and I was taking a shower. This was awkward. We had had sex. He had paid me. I didn't feel dirty about that, aside from the requisite weirdness. I felt dirty but it was a new dirty, a new emotion I wasn't prepared for. If he had been dirty about it, at all, if he had spit at me or called me whore or, I don't know, anything vulgar, if would have felt deplorable. But he hadn't. He was kinky. And he'd wanted to clean me! A chorus of sighs were not enough. I needed to clean myself, get my robe on, let him clean up and then get him out. We could talk tomorrow, or never.

When I finished in the shower I wrapped myself in a towel and opened the door. Surprisingly, Tom already had his clothes on and his gym bag slung over his shoulder. He walked over to me swiftly and stood over me. In my bare feet he was much taller.

He reached forward and I made to back away, but he gave a slight yank on the towel and it fell off my breasts. We stood there; my hands were in the bathroom door frame and he drank me in. I watched his eyes glide over my skin, dripping down my breasts, my stomach, my legs. I closed my thighs uncomfortably. I glanced down and could see he already had an erection again.

"The hour isn't up," he said.

Oh God.

But he didn't move to touch me again. He leaned back and readjusted the bag. "You seemed upset," he said. "If you still want to do this, come to the gym at the same time...I guess in two weeks. Put yourself on display, and give me a token."

I frowned. "A token? What the fuck?"

He smiled. "I'll shower at home."

Then he left. I listened to him walk down the driveway and kickstart his motorcycle, leaving me to throw my towel back over myself and go to the table where we'd done it. The hairbrush was still there. I looked at myself in the mirror, at my wet hair and my flushed skin. My face was reflected back through the smudged hand print by the edge. I shook my head and went to go get a towel to wipe it off.

As I mounted the steps, after I'd cleaned everything and gotten my stuff together, I wondered if it was really such a big deal for five hundred dollars. I had two weeks to decide.

Mister_Shy
Mister_Shy
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14 Comments
HighBrowHighBrow12 months ago

Oh, I forgot to say it, I love you.

HighBrowHighBrow12 months ago

Femdom agitprop, and man is it hot. Original and well-written. Love her POV. Fuck Bobby.

AnonymousAnonymousalmost 3 years ago

Very different. I usually have definite ideas about a story, but this one has me stumped.

I’d love to have an arrangement like that but couldn’t afford those rates & at my age an hour’s not long enough. $200 for 2 hours? Twice a month?

God yes!

Bill

RunsAmokRunsAmokover 7 years ago
Now that... That was Something

Five stars. Very well written. Very few of Tom's kinks are mine, but that ended up being an advantage. Catherine's narrative and character are so strong that I had no problem being sucked in to her emotional journey. The fact that I don't share Tom's kinks just meant that I could feel Catherine's point of view even more strongly. The scene was very sexual without really being sexy. I could imagine myself in a similar place, thing 'okay this is weird... but he's paying me so whatever floats his boat, right?" And for someone with such a strong character, who very much doesn't like being told what to do... It was really fascinating to see her struggle.

So five stars for a well written and compelling chapter. I only hope future chapters strike closer to home for me in terms of feeling sexy.

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