Keep This Secret Pt. 21

That seemed clear. I pulled out all the way, pushed in all the way, and gave her what she requested. It seemed to please her. She squirmed beneath me in a sexy, energetic way that let me know she was enjoying herself. Even better, she quickly had an orgasm that was a lot bigger and stronger than the first. "That's it. That's the stuff," she said, tossing her head back and closing her eyes.

Her climax had barely calmed before she flipped me over on my back and climbed on top of my cock. This was pretty exciting. I was going to cum soon unless we did something to slow things down. Instead, Emma sped things up, bouncing up and down like a cowgirl on a horse.

She got a big grin on her face when she felt my cock throb inside her. "Give it to me. Give it all to me," she said, squeezing the muscles that surrounded my cock. She wasn't the first woman who had such strong vaginal muscles that she could milk my cock, but she was definitely the best. She must do a hundred Kegel exercises every day.

She plopped down on the bed beside me, looking satisfied. The whole thing only took a few minutes. I couldn't remember ever making love so quickly. I'm not counting the first time I made love, back when I was a teenager. That was also over in a hurry, but that doesn't really count, does it? The first time is always over in a nanosecond.

"There are a lot of long, emotional days when you're in a political campaign," Emma said, running her hand over my cheek. "There's a lot of adrenaline. Sometimes, when I get back to my hotel room, I'm so jazzed that I can't possibly sleep. What I want is for a man to throw me down on the bed and shag me. There never seems to be anyone like that around. I mean, there are plenty of eager young men involved in politics, but they never appeal to me. I would never take them to bed."

"When that happens, David, will you come to my room and shag me? I know you are a busy man who won't be there every day. But you'll be around often enough, won't you? I need you to promise you'll come to my room and put me out of my misery. Will you promise to do that, David?"

"I promise, Emma. I promise."

That was a promise I kept.

An unexpected twist developed in our relationship. I'd already sensed that political people only respect power. They also like money, but largely because money gives you power. It was quickly apparent that Emma projected a powerful vibe. When she walked into a room filled with people, it was obvious that everybody knew their Alpha had arrived. "Is the new polling here? What time am I meeting with the chairman? Make sure you all clear out of the conference room before our strategy session at noon." Folks scrambled to do whatever she said.

It was strange, seeing something so similar to the way some animals operate. It was like moose and elk, where the ones with the biggest antlers fight for dominance. Or like wolves, who live in packs with alphas and betas. I'd been smart to pack on 20 pounds of new muscle so I'd look more commanding to the people I had to lead.

As time went by, Emma and I enjoyed many nights where I'd "shag" her after work. It was nice. She was different from other women. Our relationship evolved in unexpected ways. As time went by, I regularly asked Emma to try political tactics she doubted would work. I'd suggest we try to knock off an incumbent who seemed invulnerable. I was the guy with the money, so she'd do it. Then, she'd be a little shocked when it worked. Since she had no idea I was using the sonic stimulator to make political ads that did the seemingly impossible, she began to think I had some kind of superpower sixth sense.

It elevated me on her personal dominance scale. There were signs everywhere. Emma would be bossing around her staff, I'd walk into the room, and she'd suddenly become deferential to me. Everybody noticed it, and I noticed that all Emma's beta workers started acting like junior members of my wolf pack. It became necessary to always carry myself like the man in command.

Nowhere was this change more obvious than in the bedroom. Emma started acting like she was my alpha bitch, and I was her pack leader. She developed a deep interest in sucking my cock. To completion. Emma liked to sit me in a chair and kneel between my knees so I was looking down on her. Then she'd give me a blowjob that didn't end until she'd swallowed every drop of my cum.

I believe I've already explained that blowjobs aren't my favorite thing. I prefer pussy. But Emma wanted to find ways to acknowledge my status in her personal hierarchy, and that was one way she did it. Fortunately, she was great at it. Emma made sure to make eye contact frequently, to smile around my cock, and to let a little drop of my cum drip down her chin at the end. She began referring to herself as my "personal cocksucker." It made me a little nervous when she'd say something like this in public settings. It wasn't something I wanted people to overhear.

Emma's dedication to being the best possible cocksucker was never clearer than the night she did something new. I was sitting in my chair and looking at the top of her head as she bobbed up and down on my cock. It seemed like she was unusually enthusiastic, but I didn't think tonight would be different from any other night.

But it was different. Very different. I noticed that Emma spent extra time sucking my cock all the way to the back of her mouth. Suddenly, she was trying to suck me into her throat. It was a struggle for her to resist her gag reflex, but she finally managed, and I felt the head of my cock go deeper than ever before. She did that over and over, and it seemed to get easier for her each time. When I began to cum, she sucked me into her throat so I shot my load right into her belly.

She had an adorable look of pride when I finished. I petted her head the way you'd pet a dog who'd just obeyed an order; she always loved when I did that. She later explained that she'd never had any interest in deep throat before, but she decided it was something she wanted to do for me. Emma watched some sex video that taught how to deep throat, and it became a part of her frequent blowjobs.

On one particularly memorable evening, Emma was sucking my cock when she realized I was ready to cum. I like to prolong everything while having regular sex, but I never delay having an orgasm from a blowjob. Women can strain their jaws and necks doing blowjobs that take too long, so I try to avoid that. Everything seemed normal as I began to cum. I expected Victoria to suck my cum down her throat just like she always did.

That's not what happened. At the very last moment, Emma pulled her head back so my cock popped out of her mouth. She pumped me with one hand as a big load of cum sprayed her face. She made sure she got it from her forehead to her chin, and everywhere in between. It was a mess. She got it in her hair, her eyes, and even up her nose.

The strangest thing was a huge smile on her face. She used one finger to scoop up the cum and slurp it into her mouth, and all the while she had a joyous expression. It was almost like a kid who'd done something cute, and said "Look what I did!"

I read somewhere that there are a couple of reasons why people include facials in their sex lives. The biggest reason is they see it in sex videos, so they imitate it, like pretending they're actors in a sex scene. Another reason is that it is a powerful act of domination, where the man does it to make the woman submit to something bordering on degradation.

Emma did it because she wanted me to mark her as my bitch, just like the leader of a wolf pack marking his territory. After I'd cum all over that beautiful face, it was easier for her to feel secure in the knowledge that she belonged to me, her pack leader. I hadn't done a facial since that unfortunate time when I was trying to punish Mary for hurting my feelings, back when I deliberately made her do every degrading thing I could imagine. I didn't think I'd ever give a facial again, but it turned out to be surprisingly important for Emma.

She did one more unexpected thing. Emma began calling me "My Lord." As though I was some kind of king, and she was a lowly servant responsible for servicing me sexually. She always smiled impishly when she said it, but she said it a lot, and I could tell she liked saying it a little more than someone playing a verbal sex game.

"Are you ready for your blowjob, My Lord?" she'd said.

"Kneel before me, wench," I'd say.

This created a minor problem that took a bit of effort to overcome. Emma began to act as though she didn't care if she had an orgasm or not. She wanted to be sure she made me cum, but that seemed to be enough for her.

It wasn't enough for me. When I make love with a woman, I want to give her at least one orgasm. I'm a man. It's what we do.

But Emma seemed to get some kind of sexual stimulation from resisting me, and it got to the point that I'd grab her by the throat, toss her on the bed, and "force" myself on her. By now you can see that things were getting downright weird between me and Emma.

"Spread your legs, wench. Now," I'd say.

"Yes, My Lord," she'd respond.

Emma got the message that I always intended to keep going down on her until she climaxed, so she began allowing that to happen. She'd close her eyes, run her hands over her breasts, and make little moaning noises. I wondered what she was thinking when I went down on her. I suspected she was imagining she was some sex slave, but I never asked because I was afraid to find out. It's like those awful sci-fi movies from the 1950s, where somebody always says "There are some things man is not meant to know."

What I knew was that going down on Emma - or any woman, really - always gave my cock time to recover. I'd always be nice and hard by the time she'd cum. Then, I'd finally get to do what I'd wanted to do since the minute she walked in the door.

At the beginning, Emma told me she didn't like being teased. She said she preferred getting all of my cock immediately, without waiting or cajoling. After all the crazy dominance games she'd had me play, I decided she would damn well let me make love to her the way I wanted.

And so, I began giving her a tiny bit of my cock, then withdrawing, then going in a tiny bit more. She'd sigh in frustration every time.

"Please, My Lord. Give me more," Emma said. "Please stop teasing me."

"Shut up and do as you're told, wench," I'd say. By this time I wasn't acting. I meant what I said, and I meant it literally.

"You're mean," she said.

"If you want more, you know what to say," I said.

Loud sigh. "Please, sir. Give me more cock."

I kept teasing, pushing in a tiny bit more, and pausing every time I pulled out.

Emma knew she was beaten. "Please, My Lord. Please give it to me. Please. I'm begging, My Lord. Please please please please please."

I'd always enjoyed playing this particular game with the women I loved, but I never enjoyed it more than when I did it with Emma. She liked being the beta to my alpha. Fine. I'd show her what I expected of my bitch.

It was easy for me to go slow, making our sex last as long as I wanted. I'd already had one orgasm from Emma's blowjob; my cock wasn't in a hurry to climax again. Every single time, this treatment eventually made Emma explode in passion. Her climax was long, loud, and powerful. It was easy to tell when she was getting ready to have an orgasm, so I could usually cum at about the same time.

Afterward Emma laid motionless on the mattress beside me. Limp. Silent. I never ask a woman if she had a good time, and I never, ever, EVER ask if they had an orgasm. I always relied on their body language to tell me what I wanted to know. Asking the question just invites the woman to lie, and I didn't want that.

But I did get an encouraging second-hand report about what Emma thought of the way we made love. During one visit, Emma sat down with Mary. I don't think they had much to talk about because Mary doesn't care about politics, and Emma doesn't care about anything else. But they both cared about me, and they talked about that for a while.

Emma told Mary I was a very unusual lover. She said she'd always loved sex from the time she was a teenage, and she had enjoyed it with several nice men who were good in bed. Emma said the thing that made me different is that I regularly made love in a way that took away all her control. She was used to having sex that was cordial, collegial, and cooperative, but that I wasn't like that. She felt I made her do things she wouldn't ordinarily do. She hadn't thought she'd like that kind of treatment, but with me, she did.

"I guess I didn't know there was any other way to have sex," Mary said. "I've always liked it when you take control. That's the best part."

Mary predicted that the women in my life would like it after I added muscle to my body. It took more work than I thought, but I liked the way I looked. Mary took me shopping for new clothes tailored to fit my new frame. As she predicted, Alana was especially pleased. As a bodybuilder, she was particularly fond of muscle, even though I still didn't have nearly as much as her.

No one liked the new me more than Emma. Every time she knelt before me, she made much of my new physique. "My Lord is a powerful lord," she would say, running her hands over my chest and thighs.

"But you have one muscle I like above all the others," she'd say, giving me a sexy smile as she sucked my cock between her lips.

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Do people still use the word "shag," or is it something only a few idiosyncratic folks like Emma say? I hope you weren't put off by the unpleasant beginning of this chapter; I tried to get past it as fast as I could. If you like this story, please take time to vote five stars. I've been gratified that so many of you voted that way for my story Enslaved - Love In The Future. It would please me if you checked it out; it's the best thing I've written in years. Enslaved has plenty of explicit sex, but a lot of the text is devoted to character and plot development. My feeling is that erotica is hotter when it involves sex between characters we care about.

The next chapter of Keep This Secret tells the conclusion of our story.