A Source of PridebyDarthShoes©
Sandy had just emerged from the shower when she heard the thud of the door as it swung shut. She poked her head out. "Alison?" she called to see if her and William's roommate had returned during the day for something. Alison kept odd hours and lately she had spent more of her free hours with her business partner who was quickly delving toward boyfriend territory than not. Since William was at the garage at work for another half a day, she hadn't expected anyone around so soon. They were a strange trio, with her best friend Alison being a clean-cut business woman in contrast to Sandy and William who were bikers covered in tattoos.
She shrugged on her robe and tied it tight, using the towel to dry her short mop of dark curls as she padded barefoot to the front room to see who it was who was home. The door had been shut again and it took her a second to spot William sitting on the chair in the corner. He still work his work overalls and smelled like grease, motors and garage. Over the years she had come to love that particular smell, knowing he took pride in his work fixing and customizing bikes and cars for people. The fact that everyone would rave about his ability with a wrench was a source of pride for her, even if she never really informed him of it.
"What're you doing home?" she asked with a smile, rubbing the towel against her hair to finish removing the excess water droplets from it. He didn't answer, he just sat there. "Babe?" she ventured after a moment before he finally moved, stretching out a finger toward the counter nearby. On it was a plain silver chain with a plain silver S charm. She smiled, realizing the game. The necklace was their secret code. To the world, his gift three years ago was a charm with an S for her name. To them, the charm necklace S was to signal that she was His and while wearing it, she would submit to his every need and desire. It had been months since they had fallen into this particular routine and that would go far to explain some of the emotional distance as of late. Without reminders of how deep their love and trust went, they were bound to forget the true depths of it.
Checking that the front door was locked behind him, she moved to the counter, dropped the towel down and put the necklace on, clasping it behind her neck and feeling the gentle weight of the small charm in the hollow of her throat. She tugged the robe off, leaving her bare, her myriad of tattoos showing. William could spend hours looking at the intricate work she'd had done over the years. Every time she would come home with a large section, or multiple areas, bandaged he knew that she would be pent up and wet from the pain she'd felt from it and also would have something new and amazing to show once the bandages could be peeled off.
She moved back to the chair, going down on her knees, sitting back so her butt rested on her feet as she looked up at him in the chair and just waited for him. He smiled and leaned forward from where he was slouched back into the chair, one elbow resting on his knee, the other hand reaching out toward Sandy's wet hair that he lovingly stroked. "I forgot how much I like seeing you wear that," he said quietly.
"So have I," was Sandy's first reply in her usual quiet voice before she sat up straighter and truly started their little game. "I enjoy wearing it for you, Sir. What would you have your wife do for you?" This was also part of their little game. In it, Sandy played the role of an obedient sheltered, somewhat naive newlywed 50s-style doting housewife and William was her husband, savior, master and love of her life all rolled up in one. It amused her on another level since this was their first time playing at this since they actually became engaged and she was suddenly aware of the weight of the ring on her left finger where none had been their previous times.
"I am taking a long lunch today from work since I will be there late to finish that custom job. I want you to make me a big lunch with some for later and before you do that, I want you to work up my appetite," he instructed. "Start by taking off my boots, then my clothes."
"Yes, sir," Sandy said compliantly as she reached for and undid the lacings on one boot, then the other. She tugged them both off with a violent series of tugs to remove them, setting them aside gently. Despite the chilly winter air outside, his socks were removed next, then she kneed closer to him, between his legs, her abdomen pressed to the front of the chair, and started to unhook and remove his coveralls. The dance continued with him standing and helping until he was as naked as she was. By now her hair had turned cold and the edges of her curls were heavy with icy water that would brush against her skin when she reached her arms up, but all the cold did was add to the goosebumps along her skin and tighten the points of her nipples.
Without speaking, he tucked a finger under her chin and pulled upward slightly until she slid against him, his rock hard erection pressing against her belly. He tilted his head down to press his lips to hers, but before she could kiss him in return, his lips parted and he nipped her lower lip between his teeth. It wasn't enough to break the skin, but it was hard enough to hurt and she felt a trigger of electricity go right to her center. He was in a playful mood and that meant he was going to take full control and demand her submission even when it was offered freely. She felt a warmth as his other hand snaked around her waist and his palm rested on her bare ass a moment before he delivered a stinging smack to her backside. "That's for trying to kiss me back without being told you could," he whispered against her lips before smiling. He quickly kissed her again before turning her around to face the bedroom. "Go on, to the bedroom. Hurry before I change my mind and make you crawl, begging me the entire time."
She gave a slightly impish smirk for a moment, glancing over her shoulder before she hurried to the bedroom as instructed. If he had been in a different mood, or if she had requested it, this would be a more structured level of play with her taking a more obedient role, or even with him being more forceful or delivering a higher degree of pain with his punishments. Instead, this was a more playful level of their dominance game. While he loved nothing more than to see his powerful, badass woman being dominated and used, begging for more like a slut that wanted nothing more to please his every desire, he knew the rareness of that full level of submission to him made it all that much better. Even as it was, nobody aside from him would ever believe Sandy, his strong badass capable biker woman, would ever willingly call anyone something as respectful as 'Sir' in or out of the bedroom. Knowing she did this when only he was present gave him an extra thrill, especially considering the amount of trust it took for someone like her to do it. So he did not smack her ass for the impish look she gave as they headed to the bedroom. Instead, once they were in range, he pushed her hard until she fell backward onto the bed.
"On your back," he ordered, voice low and deep, heavy with emotion. He watched Sandy scoot backward, laying back, arms going over head and yanking the pillow out from behind her head, letting it fall to the floor next to the bed. The bed sank low as he climbed on, both his knees inside her spread legs, just close enough to keep them slightly apart.
Her arms remained crossed at the wrists a few inches over her head, elbows bent. She wasn't tied down, but she might as well have been. She knew until told otherwise, her arms were to stay there as if she were bound. It was his way of keeping her from touching him, from doing the little motions and touches that drove him over the edge and made him finish sooner than he wanted to. In this scenario, he was in charge of his own orgasm and would determine when it would take place, just as he was in charge of hers.
He shifted a little and pressed his hips forward as he knelt, holding his cock in his hand and moving it so the head of it rubbed against her slightly parted lips. The heat coming from within her burned against the tip, soothed only by the bud of precum that bubbled there. "Tell me you want me," he instructed her.
"I want you," she responded breathily. She knew this wasn't even close to the response she was supposed to give, but it went with the scenario of an innocent girl just learning to verbalize her desires. "Please. Please."
He smiled, pushing just the start of the thick head into her, then withdrawing it. He could nearly see her muscles trying to strain out for him to slide into her all the way. "Beg your husband for his cock. Beg for what you want."
Sandy writhed slightly below him as he reached his hand out and brushed the pad of his thumb against her clit. "I want-- ohgod." He smiled, egging her on by putting the tip of his head back in and withdrawing it again. "I want your cock in me," she finally whined beneath him. He watched the flush cover her chest and neck and face and it made him even harder. She might be a complete wildcat and sexy woman, but she didn't like to say what she wanted. She preferred to just do. But he wasn't allowing it. Nope, that wasn't what this game was about. "Please, sir. I want you to push your whole cock into my pussy and fill me with your cum. Feel how wet I am. How bad I need you."
"And who are you so wet for?" He asked, sliding a finger into her depths to feel just how wet she was. She was dripping. It was like she was filled with hot lava and each drop that leaked out onto his skin threatened to burn him.
"You. I'm wet for you, sir," she replied, her hips rolling against his touch, bucking toward him as he withdrew his finger from her. "Just you. Always you. Oh please. I need you to fill me so I can cum." Lightning struck him in the chest and snaked down between his legs at those words. He had her trained so well with the makeshift collar on that she couldn't even orgasm without him pounding into her and telling her she could. It filled him with a sense of power and pride that he was responsible for this.
"Not yet," he replied, bending down so his tongue could trail along the outline of one of her tattoos that stemmed from her stomach up between her breasts. He loved the way it left her shuddering below him, the way she would wiggle and jerk as if she wanted it to both end and go on forever. He knew the few spots on her that he could tickle and the right amount of touch to use for maximum impact. He knew every place that she loved to be touched, every tiny nook and cranny that he could brush over to have her quivering for him like she was just now.
He ignored her persistent pleads for him to fuck her, to put himself in her so she could latch onto him and ride him to orgasm. She used every trick in the book to get him to want to, but all she was rewarded with were more abstract tracings with his tongue and a stiff cock with a sticky head that would press into her backside and thighs when he'd move. It went everywhere but into the spot she most desired. When he could tell her frustration was at its limit, he pulled back and rested back onto his knees on the bed, holding his girth in his hand so he could line it up with her hole and press it in with an agonizing slowness that made her nearly scream. "Oh god yes, thank you sir, please put it in all the way," she pleaded. "Slam it into me. Make me yours."
"I've had enough of your whining, my little slut," he growled, his hand moving up to her throat. He knew she loved her neck being touched. If he just rubbed his unshaven face on it, she would immediately melt against him. If he bit her lightly on the neck, she would straddle him as if instantly turned on beyond belief. But holding her in a fake choke? Showing her that he had full power over her? He could feel the way she become even wetter as he did it. He never tightened his grip enough to actually cut off her oxygen, but the slight pressure played with your mind and made it feel like you weren't breathing quite enough, like no breath could be deep enough. It was also a silent way to signal her to be quiet. He used the grip on her throat to hold her down, her arms still over her head. One of his fingers snaked out to brush lovingly across her cheek before reclaiming her throat with the rest of his hand. His other hand held her knee to the side and he shoved deep into her, ramming down until he bottomed out in her, his balls smacking against her. She let out a soft yelp under his grip so he tightened it juuuust a little more. Just enough to notice that he had done so. For someone who hadn't orgasmed yet, she was positively dripping with juices that ran down her and slicked his member as he plunged in and out of her repeatedly.
In the biker world, you were often saddled with a nickname not of your choosing. In her case, the nickname she was given was Banshee. She was dubbed so after some of the club members heard her and William having sex in the bathroom during a party. True to her name, her cries could become loud and moaning and to William's ears were one of the most erotic sounds ever. Unfortunately, some of the other guys thought so as well and he hated the thought of her sounds meeting anyone's ears but his. So over time, he had trained her to be quiet when his hand was at her throat. Little sounds still slipped out, but nothing like the shrieks of pleasure he could elicit from her at other times.
She whimpered and gasped and made these little throaty noises every time he entered her, like she was overwhelmed as if her whole life was spent waiting for that particular moment. Even that tiny amount of noise from her made him thrust harder and faster. He felt the heat inside her build and release at least twice in the small micro-orgasms she usually had, keeping her in a constant state of near-climax. He knew she couldn't control these small ones even if she tried, so he never punished her for them. Sometimes he would spank her as she did, but that would often send her into a full orgasm and he wasn't ready, not quite yet.
Every time he slid out of her, the muscles inside her would grasp at his member and silently beg it not to withdraw. 'You belong inside here, never to leave' he imagined her sweet slick opening saying to him. If he had his way, he wouldn't ever leave. He'd stay buried in her forever. It used to be enough to finish inside of her and know that for the next few hours, residue of him would leak from her and remind her that she belonged to him in body and soul. But over time their love had grown and shifted. Now he needed the world to know she was his, claimed by him fully. She wore his patch, she wore his ring and he was sure with just a subtle hint toward it, she would even wear his name inked onto her skin with everything else decorating it.
He felt a rush of blood pour through him and center in his balls and knew he was going to finish soon. Thinking about how fully he had claimed her over the years had pushed him over that edge and he quickened his pace. "Cum for me, baby," he instructed as his hand moved from her knee and his thumb began to seek out her clit to rub it gently in a way he knew would drive her insane.
She thrashed below him, writhing against him and the bed, every sensation overwhelming her. "Fuck me. I need you," she whimpered quietly, the words almost not fully coming out. "Yes sir, keep doing that and I-- oh fuck, I'm gonna fucking--" she cut off and he knew why. Her back arched, pressing her against him harder and inside she spasmed. Her muscles gripped him tight enough to nearly pull the head off him as her orgasm crashed over her. He could feel the wetness of her pouring out, pushed aside as his own cum spurted out to fill her womb. "Oh god, I fucking love you," slipped past her lips. She was open and vulnerable, emotionally as well as physically. It was the moment they were closest, as she climaxed all over him and forget everything else in the world for that moment. To her, nothing mattered except him and the heat he left within her. She felt content and full, sated like she hadn't been in some time.
William slid off her, an arm wrapping around her waist as he moved to her side, spooning her back up against his chest. He buried his face in her hair and kept his grip on her tight. "I fucking love you, too," he mumbled into her wet hair as he held her close.