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She slowly removed the device from within herself and pushed back the hair stuck to her forehead.
She was completely out of breath, but utterly satisfied.
She looked up, to see if he had enjoyed the show, but the screen was blank. He'd gone. She sat there, a sense of disappointment settling in. He had guided her to a mind-blowing orgasm, but she had evidently broken the rules, so he had left.
She closed her legs, feeling the wetness and warmth between her thighs and placed the device back in the little box, closing the lid.
Then she lay back and promptly fell asleep.
***
She was awoken by the stomping of feet across the floor.
She sat up, drowsy, wondering where she was before she saw him and it all came rushing back to her.
"Hey you," she said, sleepy, leaning onto the back of the sofa, only her head and hands visible.
He stopped at the edge of the space. His jaw firmly set, his piercing eyes fixed on her.
"What's wrong?" She said, waking up, sensing something was seriously wrong. The sun shone through the window and she realised it was still early, noon maybe. "How are you back so early?"
"Why don't you tell me?" He snapped, taking off his jacket, his muscles flexing with rage.
"Is this about the cup?" She asked, incredulously, noticing the shards glinting in the sun. "I'll pay for it. It might take me a few months to save up though, it probably cost more than my car, if I had one."
"Would you please...?" He demanded, and she stopped talking. She tried to think what the problem was, but she had no idea.
"Do you think," he said, taking off his tie, "I wanted to waste my morning travelling across town?"
"I don't understand," she said.
"Because some horny little slut," he threw it on his jacket and began unbuttoning his shirt, "can't follow simple instructions?"
Is he serious? She thought. He travelled all the way across town because I had an orgasm without his permission?
"And now, here I am," he said, taking off his shirt, exposing his perfectly waxed chest, "because I have to teach her a lesson."
Oh fuck, she thought. He's serious.
She thought about how fucked up he must be to feel the need to do that. Then she realised that she had made him do that. She had forced him to leave work to come teach her a lesson. She felt a self of pride well up in her chest at having so much power over a man she barely knew. She felt a sly smile creep across her face.
"You think this is funny, do you?" He asked, unbuckling his belt, slipping it out of the loops and laying it on the table.
"No," she said. He stopped unbuttoning his trousers and stared in disbelief." No, sir."
"Finally, a bit of respect." He slid his trousers off, his shoes already under the table, and folded them on top of his shirt. He pulled off his socks and straightened up.
She watched him standing there in nothing but his boxers, his muscles bulging, just like his dick.
"I'm sorry, sir," she said pitifully, playing it up, hiding behind the sofa.
"This isn't funny," he said. "I had to cancel an investor's meeting for this. It took six months to arrange and you ruined it with..."
"My pussy?"
"Your lack of discipline. Come here." He pointed to the spot in front of him. She slipped off the sofa and walked meekly towards him, head tilted to the ground.
"Look at me."
Head tilted downwards, her shoulder pushed inwards, pressing her tits together, she rolled her eyes, wide and expressive, up to him.
"I said, look at me." His hand grabbed her firmly but gently underneath the jaw and lifted her head up to face him.
"Do you like upsetting me?"
"No, sir."
"Do you like breaking the rules?"
"No, sir."
"Then why am I here?"
"I'm sorry, sir."
"Are you?" He said, squeezing a little tighter.
"So sorry, sir."
"Who do you belong to?"
"You."
"Who?"
"You, sir," she said louder.
"Who does that pussy belong to?"
"You, sir. It's all for you, sir." She tried to move closer, but his hand held her in place. He stared her intently in the eye as if trying to decide whether or not she was telling the truth, before finally letting go.
She inhaled deeply, his hand having limited her ability to breathe, and received a rush of blood to the head.
She stood there, admiring his powerful back, his firm buttocks, those thick legs which could carry her anywhere, hold her steady in any position.
"Take them off," he said.
"Pardon me, sir?" She asked, confused. Wasn't she already naked?
"Take. Them. Off."
Of course. The stockings.
"Sorry, sir," she said, bending, stretching out one leg and sliding the stocking slowly down her smooth skin. She was putting on a little show, even if he wasn't watching, figuring he might turn around at any second, or maybe he would watch her on the CCTV later and wanted to leave him a little surprise.
She slipped the delicate fabric off the end of her foot, and then repeated the performance with the other.
"All done, sir," she said, standing upright, holding the stocking in her hands. Even though she had been wearing nothing all morning, for the first time she felt truly naked.
For the first time since she arrived, she was completely undressed. When he had pressed her against the window and used his fingers to bring her to orgasm, she had been fully dressed, panties (having been removed in the limo ride over), notwithstanding.
When he had tied her to the bed, she had been wearing her stockings and high heels, the same outfit she wore when she sucked her own juices off his cock, the pointed heels sticking into her asscheeks.
It was only before they went to sleep that she finally lost the shoes, and only sometime in the night did he remove the pearl necklace that had fitted tightly around her throat.
Now, the only thing on her body were the two pearl earrings (that matched the necklace) and the stocking in her hands.
He turned around and took them off her.
"Turn around". She did so. "Give me your hands." She began to turn back around. "Did I tell you to turn back around?" She stopped, turning fully away from him. "Give me your hands."
She held her hands behind her back and felt the soft fabric of the stocking wrap around her wrists, slipping up and over before he gave it a firm, hard tug, trapping her hands together.
She wriggled to see if she could get free, but there was no chance of that. He knew what he was doing.
"That's because you can't be trusted to do what you're told. And this," he said, holding the stocking in both hands in front of her face, "is because you don't know when to be quiet."
"I'm sorry, s-," she began before material slipped into her mouth, as he wrapped the stocking around, tying it tightly at the back of her head, gagging her.
"That's exactly the sort of thing I'm talking about," he said, fixing the makeshift gag.
She stood still, bound and gagged. She could feel his presence looming over her, his body radiating heat, a mixture of anger and passion.
"Are you ready for your lesson? He asked. "And don't try to speak." She nodded silently in the affirmative.
He placed his large hand on the back of her neck, gripping firmly, and, submitting to the pressure, she moved slowly forwards. He directed her towards the sofa until her soft belly pressed into the well-padded edge.
He stopped walking, but didn't remove his hand, instead pushing her head down until she was bent over the sofa, her ass pointed upwards, her little feet flailing in the air.
She was fully exposed, her pussy at the perfect angle for him to take her. She started to get wet, but was worried about his girth. Sure, she had managed to take it last night, but that had been with a lot of warming up. Now, aside from the orgasm she had had a couple of hours ago, there had been little in the way of preparation.
Crack.
She moaned into the gag, taken aback by the sudden sensation on her ass. Was he spanking her?
Crack.
He was!
She moaned again. She knew speaking was against the rules, but did that include all vocal sounds or just words? Before she could think through the problem logically, his hand came down on her ass again.
Crack.
Crack.
Crack.
Each time his powerful hand made contact with her soft ass, she let out a moan, loud and involuntary.
Whether he was punishing her for earlier, or for moaning now, she didn't know, and truthfully didn't care.
Crack.
Her asscheeks burned when he had brought her hand down, and she embraced the pain. She had been bad, very bad, and she needed to be taught a lesson.
Crack.
More than that, she needed to be punished.
Crack.
He continued to slap her ass, until her moans began to subside, indicating she had taken all she could stand.
She lay there silently, listening to his heavy breathing behind her.
She wondered what was next. The counter behind them held all manner of toys, plugs and vibrators, any one of which he could choose to use on her.
Instead, she felt his hands underneath her, lifting her by the top of her thighs, tilting her face closer to the sofa, and her ass up into the air, until her legs were horizontal to the floor.
Her feet flailed once again as she panicked about falling. He held her in that position for a few moments, giving her time to calm down, to remember he was a machine, capable of holding her, controlling her, for as long as required.
She wondered what the next lesson would be, excited about the possibilities. She was not disappointed. He had her exposed at the perfect angle for many things, including pussy eating.
She saw his shadow, big and long disappear as he bent down, and felt his warm tongue run up her cunt, from clit to slit, his saliva mixing with her juices. She moaned as he slipped his tongue inside her, licking the inside of her entrance, tasting her deeply.
He licked and lapped at her helpless pussy, running circles around her, teasing her as he tasted.
She moaned and tried to wiggle her ass, desperate for more contact and he removed his tongue from her.
She continued to try and wriggle, despite the firm grip he had upon her, until she admitted defeat, and lay still, waiting for him to return.
She lay there for ten seconds, twenty, thirty, wondering if he was going to restart. Or was this the lesson?
He could choose whether to pleasure her or not, could deny the pleasure she so desperately craved. Perhaps he'd had enough.
Fuck me.
She moaned loudly, biting into the stocking as he returned his tongue with a vengeance. He licked and lapped up and down her wet cunt, running his tongue deep between her pussy lips, spilling it into every space he could find, before sliding it over her throbbing clit.
The sensations overcame her and she could think of nothing else as he licked her sweet button, sending shivers through her entire body. He licked slowly, methodically, and she could feel the heat of his breath on her cunt.
She wanted to beg him, to plead with him, to speed up, to give her the sweet release she craved, but she knew he would do no such thing. He would decide when she came, this was her punishment.
His tongue sped up, stimulating her clit, bringing her to the edge. He kept licking, his tongue circling her clit at the perfect speed, little circles with just the right amount of pleasure. She moaned again. She was about to cum, there was no doubt about it.
Then he stopped.
What the fuck?!
She bucked and flailed and struggled against her restraints, a flow of invectives muffled by the gag.
But he just crouched there silently, holding her in position.
Finally, exhausted, she calmed down.
"You cum," she said, very matter of fact, "when I say you cum."
So that is the lesson.
With that, he returned his warm tongue to her pussy, licking up and down, devouring her wetness before moving back up to her clit, quickly getting back up to speed, and locking his lips over her delicate mound, forming a tight seal sucking her clit as his tongue continued to flitter over it.
Within seconds, she was back on the brink and desperate to cum. He continued to lick and suck at her, as waves of pleasure flowed through her, edging her closer and closer, but still, she held off, desperate not to cum. That pussy was all his, belonged to him, he decided when that pussy came or not, and he had not yet given permission.
Still, it was getting harder and harder to hold on, the tension building up in her body, the desperate need for sweet release.
She couldn't hold it forever, but maybe he would never stop? Maybe he would keep sucking on her sweet clit forever, denying her what she needed most?
Then she felt it, his hands squeezing her thighs. Throughout they had been strong and steady, now they were flexing, almost imperceptibly so, but they were.
Nothing else had changed, he was still expertly manipulating her clit, as he held his body solidly in place. This could only mean one thing.
Permission.
She cried out as she let herself go, her orgasm finally breaking, sweeping over her like waves on the shore, not gently onto a sandy beach, but a storm violently bashing against the cliff face. The pleasure, so long denied, tested every inch of her body, muscles spasming and contracting, forcing her to arch and twist, writhe and contort, even as she was held in place.
She tried to ride out the pleasure, but it was too much, he was too much, his tongue and lips working to bring her pleasures she had never before experienced.
She had been a fool not to listen to him, not to obey him. He knew what was best for her pussy, he knew what was best for her.
She rocked on the sofa until finally, the storm subsided, and she lay there, bent over the sofa, as he gently removed his face from between her legs, softly slipping her legs over the sofa and lowering her down onto her side.
She breathed deeply through her nose, her body still trembling. He sat down beside her, placing her head on his thigh.
"Good girl," he said gently stroking her hair. She closed her eyes and embraced the sense of intimacy. She had been punished, but now she had learnt her lesson and he was content to comfort her.
She tilted her head upward and looked at him, her eyes wide and gentle, waiting for him to untie her.
"Not just yet," he said, as if reading her mind. "There's still one more lesson I have to give you."
She smiled, knowing exactly what he had left to give her.
***
After giving her a few minutes to recover, he eased her up into an upright position.
She looked at his wet face and wanted to kiss him, to taste herself on him. She knew how good she tasted, and so did he. She watched as he ran his tongue over his lips, savouring her.
He gently took her by the arm and stood, both of them raising to their feet, and he led her to a space by the window. The view was magnificent and so was the reflection.
She looked at her sweat-drenched body, gagged and bound, as a towering hulk of a man stood behind her.
He moved in close, placing his hands on her shoulders, and began to gently kiss her neck and along her jawline.
She watched him, a gentle giant treating her so delicately, whilst at the same time, she could smell her sex on his breath. She loved this duality, craved his complexity, his unpredictability.
But you didn't need to be a psychologist to figure out what was about to happen next.
As he kissed her, he pressed gently on her shoulders, dropping her to her knees. She watched as he kneeled behind her, continuing to kiss her neck, her shoulders, whilst his strong, gentle hands explored her body, running up and down her belly, over the tops of her thighs, staying away from her delicate clit, which had hardly recovered from his manipulations.
Then, his hands settled on her thighs, in a way that felt familiar, but which she couldn't place. They began to move slowly upwards, over her soft but firm belly, up to her breasts, cupping one in each hand, holding them, as if evaluating, before gently caressing them from underneath.
She moaned softly, thankful for the change of pace, an opportunity to catch her breath.
He continued to caress her, his warm body pressed against her back, her soft, bound hands, lying lightly on the bulge in his boxers.
As he continued to move his hands across her breasts, she found she had the desire to reach in and start working him with both hands, pleasuring him like he had pleasured her. But that was definitely against the rules.
Still, the desire grew and she felt herself getting wet again, her warm juices flowing down the inside of her thigh, as his gentle fingers ran over her nipples, twisting slightly, but not to the point of discomfort. It was not her flawless tits that needed teaching a lesson, it was her slutty, disobedient pussy.
She began to sway back and forth slightly, as his hands and lips continued their work. Then he moved his lips up to her ear and whispered,
"Are you ready for your final lesson?"
She nodded slowly, and felt his stoic dick finally twitch.
He stood up and she went to do the same, but his strong hand on her shoulder told her no, and she complied.
She watched in the window as he slipped off his boxers, flicking them to one side with his foot. She admired his dick as it swung casually at the motion.
It still made her nervous, but her platinum pussy had been able to take it last night and she was sure she could take it again. After all, no one could say she wasn't sufficiently warmed up.
He returned back to his knees and pressed himself against her, his dick slipping into her hands. Whether or not this was an accident, she wasn't sure, but she wasn't going to let an opportunity like this pass. She took it firmly and started slowly stroking it, as he ran his hands over her breasts, her belly, and up and down her thighs.
He moaned softly in her ear and she could feel him getting hard in her hand. She began to work him faster and felt a slight trickle of pre-cum on her wrist, soaking into her stocking. Despite appearances to the contrary, he was ready to blow.
She worked faster and faster, until he gently grabbed her arm, stopping her dead. She released his rock-hard dick and he let her go.
He pushed her bound hands slightly to the side and, directing his dick downwards, slid it underneath her, where he began to slowly move back and forth, rubbing the top of his shaft on her pussy, her juices coating the top and dripping down the sides, as the head grazed her clit.
The sensation of him teasing her with his cock started to get her worked up again. She wanted to suck it, to take it all in her mouth, wanted to push him down and straddle him, sliding herself fully down on him and then riding until they both came.
But she was helpless, she was his, and all she could do was take whatever he saw fit to give her.
After a couple of minutes, he slid his dick out from underneath her, seemingly satisfied with the coating.
He leaned her forward, a strong arm on her shoulder keeping her steady until her pussy was accessible to him. Then, with his free hand, he guided his wet cock into her even wetter cunt, easing it in a bit at a time.
She bit down on the gag as she once again felt his cock stretch her, desperate for him to enter her, to fill her up.
He worked slowly and steadily, his cock, lubricated in her juices, sliding in easier than the previous night.
Then he was in, and it was all she could feel. He started slowly moving in and out, making sure she was ready, that she could take his final lesson.
Comfortable she could, he started moving, faster and faster, slipping further out and sliding deeper in each time, until he reached a steady fucking tempo.
