Keeping Her in Line

Story Info
He'll come home from work to assume his role as her master.
2.7k words
4.51
50.4k
15
Share this Story

Font Size

Default Font Size

Font Spacing

Default Font Spacing

Font Face

Default Font Face

Reading Theme

Default Theme (White)
You need to Log In or Sign Up to have your customization saved in your Literotica profile.
PUBLIC BETA

Note: You can change font size, font face, and turn on dark mode by clicking the "A" icon tab in the Story Info Box.

You can temporarily switch back to a Classic Literotica® experience during our ongoing public Beta testing. Please consider leaving feedback on issues you experience or suggest improvements.

Click here

Tonight, I'll ask you for it.

You'll come home from work and sit down to relax, and I'll climb into your lap and kiss you. I'll kiss your lips, softly, convince them to open to let my tongue in. Move along your jaw, back to that spot under and just behind your ear that I learned drives you mad. You'll give a soft groan, and I'll nip at your neck, continuing downward, undoing the first couple of buttons on your shirt as I do. Run my lips, lightly at first, along your shoulders, swoop down to your clavicles, kissing at the small of your chest. My hands all over you at once, gliding up and down your sides, grazing lightly along your lower stomach, just above the waistband of your pants, under the unimportant fabric of your shirt. Kissing further down your chest, undoing the buttons as I go, paying a world of attention to every inch of your torso. With a bit of your help and the shirt finally off, I'll kiss along your biceps, down your upper arms, dart back to your chest, and begin to kiss a bit lower, lower ("Oh, god... lower, baby," you'll mutter, a direct command to continue,) and as I slide off your lap, onto the floor in front of you, get down to where my fingers just were -- just above the waistband of your slacks -- with my face. I'll breathe in your musk, that manly, misleadingly elusive smell that I get so easily drugged on, as I continue to kiss along your lower abdomen; but when I try to open the fly of your pants -- admittedly with a less-than-graceful manner, my fingers fumbling all over the two buttons that should be so simple and so familiar -- you'll grab my hair, pull me, forcefully, up to you, kiss my lips. Stop me. The kiss will tell me why. You know I don't deserve that; I don't deserve to taste you. Not yet.

You'll know that I've been a bad girl the moment you walk through the door; you'll suspect what I've been doing today. You know me. You know that when I'm all over you like this immediately after you get home what I've been doing to myself - lying on our bed, my hand between my legs, fantasizing about you coming home. And today, I've been especially mischievous.

Stand up. Pull me, by my hair, back to my feet. Bend me over the bed you'd been sitting on, lift my white dress above my ass to rest on my back. I'm not wearing panties. I threw on that sheer dress after you left, not even bothering to have any shame about my want for you throughout the day.

Slap my toned, nicely rounded ass. Not lightly -- you don't bother with a warmup.

No, your hand will fall crisply on the outer curve of my ass, almost on my left hip. You'll move to the other side, repeat that motion. Over and over again. You'll smack me till it's a light red and your hand stings from contact. You'll grab the paddle we leave on the bedside table, and in one swift motion bring me face-down over your lap, on the bed again. Continue my spanking. Slap me hard with that paddle, the light, fast one that leaves a loud crack in the air each time it hits me. Tell me precisely whose I am as you spank me -- tell me I'm a really bad girl for disrespecting his wishes today.

I'll start fighting it a bit, wiggling around in your lap, trying to escape. Keep going. Turn my perky little ass a bright, hot-to-the-touch, impossible-to-miss red. Make me aware, not just with your words, what a fucking slut I am.

After what will seem like ages, you'll put down the paddle. Finally, you'll lay it back down on the table, and run your hands over my sore ass, at first accentuating the pain, and then soothing -- and I'll be able to get a few breaths in. But only a few, because you'll run a finger along my slit, between my legs. It'll be wet, there. I'll have been far too distracted by the sting on my defenseless bottom to notice how wet I'll be getting. You'll slide a finger along that slit, and you'll go a bit further, able to directly find my clit and rubbing in a few light, teasing circles. I'll struggle. I'll try to grind down on your hand, but you'll hold me where I am, gripping me hard, and tell me to stay put. I'll obey. I'll resign. I'll let you touch me, tantalize me. For a few tortuously long minutes, you'll do so. After I've had a bit of pleasure, you'll continue to punish.

You'll toss me off you, onto the center of the bed. Before I'll have time to so much as regain any of my senses, you'll have the entirety of that naughty, see-through dress at distant memory status and my hands behind my back. You'll hold them there firmly as you secure my wrists to each other with a necktie from your bedside table's drawer. Another tie will go around my head, covering my eyes and tying at the back. On my knees, in front of you, you'll push me back down to the bed and use your thigh to gently coax my legs apart. My face will be in the mattress, my ass up in the air, and I'll be completely surrendered to you, open for you.

You'll use the still-dressed thigh you have between my two bare ones to grind against my cunt a bit, and just as I start enjoying it, you'll take it away.

Back up, off the bed; stand up, look at me. Admire at my ass, presented plainly to you and coloured a satisfying fiery red -- just the way you like to see it. Follow at the curve of my back with your eyes, arching up toward you, my hands restrained above my hips. From this perspective, you'll be able to see clearly just how badly I want it. On the inside of each of my thighs, a nice line of my own juices shimmers on the soft, pale skin there. Scrutinize me with your gaze -- I can feel it. It makes me squirm and you know it.

You'll lean down, pull my body up to you enough to nibble on my skin. I'll inhale shakily as you place kisses along my shoulder blades, up my arms, along the nape of my neck. You'll growl in my ear ("You want it, don't you, baby?") and punctuate with a more forceful nip at the back of my neck.

You'll push my head back down to the bedspread. I'll sense you moving about the room, fetching something. Lying there, focusing on gaining footing in my own breath, I'll have hardly registered your question. "Answer me, bitch," you'll say, suddenly running the cool, flat surface of your most recent favourite thing to discipline me with along the underside of my ass. "Answer me. Do you want it?"

"Yes, sir, I want it," I'll gasp, a breathy, insecure confirmation.

"Hmm... what is it, exactly, that you want? And I don't hear the magic word, baby," You'll remind me, dragging the crop up the back of one of my legs and coming very close to a more forbidden place.

I'll struggle to pick out acceptable words. Finally, I'll muster, "I'm sorry, sir. I want to be fucked. Please fuck me."

You'll bring the crop down gently on the inside of my thigh. "What was that, you nasty little thing?" You'll smack the thin skin of my leg again, harder. "You really think it's going to be that easy?" Again. Harder. Louder. And higher on my body this time. The wetness on my leg will increase as you climb it with that leather, intensifying its sting. "You think that all day, you've been lying here on this bed, dripping wet for a cock, touching yourself and giving yourself whatever you want, and you're going to be rewarded for it? Hell, you probably got into the toys, you fucking whore. Each and every one of those playthings I bought for you -- and told you expressly were only to be used in the event I give you my permission -- was probably in your cunt today."

Slap the inside of my other thigh with that flexible little whip. Make me gasp and jump."Guess what, bitch?" you'll say, resting the layered material of the crop right against my poor little cunt. "You're. My. Plaything."

I'll brace myself, but it'll do little good. The smart of that flogger will make be lose my breath. You'll savour watching me gasp and writhe in response to that pain, and you'll fulfill your promise -- you'll make me your toy, make it known that I am, without a doubt, all yours, to do with exactly as you please.

You'll vary the precise places you hit me in -- in total, I'll probably only get three or four on the actual lips of my pussy -- but you'll draw out the punishment as long as is possible, allowing just enough pause between smacks to make them more poignant when they land; it will be an excruciating, exhilarating assertion of your absolute dominance. You are not to be disobeyed. If there was ever a time I didn't understand that, I'll forget it after this.

Putting down the crop on the nightstand, you'll allow me to catch my breath while I hear you unzip your fly, directly preceding the soft rustle of your slacks falling to the floor. There will be a few moments -- a few agonizing moments -- where I won't know where you've gone, where I won't be able to sense where you are in the room. And then you'll appear, your thumb already massaging my ultra-sensitive clit in barely-there little circles.

"Baby," you'll say in a mock-inquisitive tone, "you're all wet! Did you really enjoy being under the crop that much?"

My voice still shaky, breathy, I'll tell you, "Yes, sir. I did."

You'll chuckle. A way for you to torment me audibly. "Ohh, baby," you'll softly scold, as you slide your index finger into my cunt, "such a little slut for the pain I give you! That just won't do..."

Your finger will quickly find the specific spot inside me that drives me wild, and it'll make me cry out for you, over and over again, as the pad of that digit ravishes my G-spot without any rest whatsoever -- you know just how you could rub that spot for hours without giving me enough to orgasm. But that would be cruel, and I'm already whining for it (though you've nearly done it a few times before. Sometimes, pleasure is the best penalty.) Instead, you'll wrap your other arm around me and pull my body up against yours, my back to you on our knees on the bed, and as you continue to rub that sensitive little patch inside of me, another finger will slide -- with a bit more effort than the first one -- into my opening.. Again, I'll cry out -- your name, but a much less distinct version. "What was it that you wanted, sweetie? I've been so caught up in my fun, I seem to have completely forgotten what you asked me for," you'll jeer.

"Mmphpleasefuckmebabypleasepleasefuckmeplease." I'll sob.

"What was that, love?" Pausing for effect, you'll curl your fingers more to put more pressure on that tiny pleasure trigger. "Ohh, dear... you want me to fuck you? That's what you want, isn't it? You want something other than my fingers..." - you'll pull them nearly all the way out of me and barrel them back in - "...in here? You want... a cock, perhaps? My cock? My hot, thick, throbbing cock? Oh, my goodness, sweetheart... do you think you can take it, love? You think you can handle me fucking your tight..." - another quick thrust with your fingers - "...little..." - another - "...cunt? This tight little fucking hole of yours?"

"Yes!" I'll finally cry, "Please, fuck me, please! I promise you I'll be a good girl! I promise! Let me have it, baby! Please - I need it!"

Pull your fingers out of me and reach around to forcibly shove them into my mouth. "Lick them clean, love," you'll demand. "Lick my fingers clean while I decide if I'm inclined to fuck you. Taste what a goddamn whore you are while I decide if you've earned my cock."

With one of your hands, you'll be rubbing my clit with an intensity sure to make my knees fail me -- I'll be lucky I'm not standing. I'll eagerly lick and suck on the two fingers on my tongue as you continue to let me know me how naughty I've been. Pushing your fingers further down my throat, you'll admonish me: "Was this what you wanted all day? Hm, baby? You wanted me to fucking use you? You wanted to be reminded that you're my little slave, my little fuck toy? That you belong to me? Mm, bad girl. Bad, bad girl. You could have just asked, you know."

You'll release my mouth and stop rubbing my clit. You'll bend me back over in front of you.

"You could've just asked, love..."

Place the head of your cock against my opening. Hold my hips firmly in place. Don't move; don't let me move. Hold out for as long as you think I can possibly handle it. Wait for one more "Please."

Pull me by my hips onto your dick. Penetrate me deep -- make me scream at your first thrust. Fuck me. Abandon any semblance we ever had of grace -- fuck me like a god damn animal. Make me writhe. Fuck me straight through my orgasm and into the next, until I can't tell which is which. Until I can't stop cumming for you. Until I'm a dripping mess of limbs and hair and hot skin, and you are, too.


Slap my ass as I cum. Reach around and slap my clit as I cum. You know I get off on that little bit of bite.

Make me beg. Make me confused as to whether I'm begging for more or begging you to stop. Regardless, keep going. Don't stop. You know that the only reason I'd beg you to stop is because more is only going to make me want even more.

Ask me where I want that thick, hot cum of yours. Ask me again -- confirm that I want it inside me. One more time -- ask me if I want you to cum inside my hot, wet, hypersensitive pussy. Make me say "Please." It is the rule, after all; to get what I want, I have to say "Please."

Fill me with the stuff. I want to hear you moan -- loudly -- as you spill yourself into me, your thrusts hard and deep and fast and their cadence erratic, your breath one second shallow and the next heavy and laboured. I want to feel you shudder as you continue your firm grip on my hips for a long moment in the beginning of your comedown; I want to hear you to exhale deeply as you finally release your hold on my hips, untie my wrists and undo the blindfold, and pull me close on top of you. Let me breathe you in -- let me drug myself on your scent. Gently stroke my hair and run your hands down the soft skin on the sides of my torso. Let my breasts press against your own chest and let me bury my face in your neck, peppering soft kisses along it and then down your shoulders, to your chest. I'll look up at you from there; I'll smile. Look down at me and tell me that you love me. Tell me I'm yours and that I belong to you, and that I always will.

As you drift into a doze, my smile will shift into a playfully amused smirk. "No," I'll say to myself, "it's the other way around."

Please rate this story
The author would appreciate your feedback.
  • COMMENTS
Anonymous
Our Comments Policy is available in the Lit FAQ
Post as:
Anonymous
3 Comments
ChinaDollyChinaDollyabout 13 years ago
Lovely!

Absolutely perfect and very well written!

AnonymousAnonymousabout 13 years ago
fabulous.

i don't normally comment on stories, but this is wonderfully written. your language is beautiful. descriptive without being crude is hard to do, but you manage to do it wonderfully. i love the way that you combined the first and second person tenses here. i hope that there's a second part to this story, because this was simply wonderful.

AnonymousAnonymousabout 13 years ago

Very sexy, right up my alley. I like the way you used 1st and 2nd person...it really helped me imagine myself in on the action.

Share this Story

Similar Stories

Enough A defiant submissive tests her dominant's patience.in BDSM
Taking Care of a Problem Ben intimidates a witness into staying silent.in NonConsent/Reluctance
Yours Ch. 01 Well-endowed victim seeks revenge.in BDSM
Daddy's Baby A young woman is taken by force by Daddy.in NonConsent/Reluctance
Sandler Finishing School Ch. 01 Students punished at BDSM school.in Fetish
More Stories