Mystery Dom Ch. 02

I stared at the phone screen, trying to figure out what to say. How do you have this kind of conversation?

20:37, Me: I... thank you

20:38,???: It was my pleasure. How are you feeling?

How was I feeling? I was exhausted, but there was a sort of glow in my chest, a lightness in my body. Despite being out of my depth right now, there was a grin on my face that wouldn't go away, and occasionally broke out into giggles. I tried to put that into words.

20:40, Me: Good

I tried again.

20:40, Me: Really good

I gave up.

20:40, Me: Thank you

20:40, Me: How are you?

20:40,???: I'm wonderful. I'm glad you enjoyed yourself

20:40,???: You probably have questions? Ask away

I had lots of questions. Most of them I wanted answers to. I started in the direction that I thought I was most likely to chicken out of.

20:41, Me: Did you enjoy yourself?

20:41,???: Absolutely. I had a lot of fun

20:42, Me: But you didn't cum?

That had been nagging at me, underneath the glow. He'd made me feel good - really good, as I so eloquently put it - but I wanted him to feel good too. On some level it didn't feel like it counted, like if he was just giving me what I wanted regardless of himself, then it wasn't what I wanted.

20:43,???: Well, not yet. I was, uh. Planning to masturbate to the memory

I blushed to read that. Had anyone masturbated thinking about me before? I've heard that boys do that kind of thing a lot, but I had trouble imaginining them doing it with me. I was lying in bed, my phone in one hand, and I felt my other hand slide between my legs. I still wanted to know more, why he hadn't fucked me at the time. But-

20:45, Me: Oh? If you walk me through what you remember, I can try to fill in the details

I cringed as I hit send on that last message, and my heart pounded. It was pretty much the most blatant attempt at being sexy that I'd made in my life. I could tell how awkward it was but that didn't mean I knew how to be not-awkward, P is not NP and oh god why was I thinking about computer science at a time like-

20:46,???: So I rush into the room worried about what's going on and wouldn't you know, my hot neighbor has herself all tied up in there

I let out my breath. Thank fuck I hadn't scared him away.

His "hot" neighbor?

An hour later, I'd had my fourth orgasm of the day, and he'd had what I assumed was his first. I even sent him some pictures. I'd never done that before. I'm pretty sure the lighting and angles were awful, but he seemed to like them.

We kept messaging into the night. I told him about myself. I asked the questions I wanted answered, and he answered them. In particular:

22:03, Me: So you never said. Um

22:03, Me: Why didn't you fuck me?

22:05,???: It wasn't because I didn't want to. But we barely spoke. I was toeing the line on consent as it was

22:07, Me: Oh! Um, that makes a lot of sense, actually

22:07, Me: But uh

22:07, Me: You could have fucked me if you wanted

22:07, Me: So that you know. For future

Despite everything, I was still scared to extend such an invitation for fear of rejection.

22:08,???: Oh? I'll bear that in mind

22:08,???: Is there anything else I could have done?

22:08,???: So that I know. For future

There were a few things.

---

We didn't message so much for the next few days, but that was okay. My glow persisted. At home I usually wore yoga pants and an oversized t-shirt for comfort, but now I was feeling sexy - someone found me sexy - and I wanted to look it. So I wore my dresses, and my skirts matched with nice tops. The handful of clothes I'd bought for parties and for the dates I never went on.

At work I'd always dressed conservatively and professionally - more professionally than I needed to as a software engineer, but it made it easy to choose an outfit every day. I kept that up, I would have been mortified if someone had asked why the sudden change. On Tuesday I built up the courage to take my panties off in the bathroom and put them in my purse, but I spent the next hour too distracted to work so I went back there, rubbed myself a bit and put them back on again.

I told my stranger about it when I got home. Why didn't you make yourself cum? I blinked, that hadn't really occurred to me. He told me to change back into my work outfit, no panties, sit on my own toilet, spread my legs and rub myself again. Not to make myself cum, but to put myself back in the headspace, and to think about why I hadn't. It was kind of embarrassing to realize, and more embarrassing to admit.

18:45, Me: Okay, um. I guess

18,45, Me: I maybe didn't want to cum without you telling me to?

18:45,???: Good girl

18:45,???: But I'm not going to tell you to cum

18:45, Me: Fuck

18:45,???: Not tonight

18:46, Me: What have I got myself into?

18:46,???: You can keep rubbing yourself. But no cumming

18:46, Me: Yes sir

18:46,???: Good girl

That was the first time I called him sir. It slipped out without me realizing, but if it took him by surprise he didn't show it. I spent a lot of the evening with my hands in my panties.

---

On Thursday evening I got home from work and went to my room. I stripped off my work clothes - I hung my jacket and skirt over my chair for tomorrow and put my blouse and tights in the laundry hamper. I'd worn black lace panties that obviously my coworkers weren't going to see, and a push-up bra that no one was going to comment on even if they noticed - but it had still felt daring to wear. I sat on my bed and watched myself in the mirror as I ran my hands over both of them. I rubbed my clit gently through the fabric, my breathing already shallow. It didn't take much to turn me on these days.

I put on a short-sleeved blue top that revealed plenty of cleavage, and a thin black skirt that went just below my knees and swished when I walked. I headed to the kitchen to make a mug of tea.

But on the floor just outside the bedroom doorway was a note that hadn't been there when I arrived. My heart fluttered as I bent down to pick it up and read the handwriting: blindfold yourself, get on your knees, and call for me.

He was here. He was waiting for me. He was moving around my house and I hadn't heard him. I'd told him he could do this. At the time the idea had seemed hot. Now it seemed - still hot, definitely still hot. But scary, too.

I took a few deep breaths. I imagined calling out the word "red". I played the scenario forwards in my mind. I would call it out, a few seconds later he'd come round the door, he'd tell me it was okay, he'd cuddle me. I'd see his face. I'd learn which of my neighbors thought I was hot.

Maybe I was naive, but... I wasn't sure about the details, but I was sure it would be something like that. I was sure that if I called out "red" I'd be safe and cared for.

That helped steady my nerves. I put the note on the dresser. I pulled my box of toys out of the bottom of the wardrobe, opened the lid, and took out my blindfold. I left the box visible and open.

Should I undress? He must have imagined I'd be dressed by the time I left my room, if he wanted me naked he could have said so. I knelt in front of my bed, facing the doorway, with enough room to walk around me. I put my blindfold on, making sure it was a snug fit and wouldn't accidentally ride up. Hands on my thighs or behind my back? I put them behind my back.

I swallowed. My voice came out weak at first, but then I managed to call out at a normal "talking to someone in another room" volume. "I'm rea- I'm ready, sir."

I hadn't heard him place the note, but I did hear him walk into the room and close the door. The slight thwump of something landing on the bed. Footsteps padded around the room, soft scraping noises of objects being rearranged from the direction of my toy box. Footsteps to my side, fabric rustled as he crouched down. A hand stroked my cheek and I shivered. I felt his breath on my face, "do you remember your safewords?" I nodded. "Say them now."

I swallowed again. "Y-yellow. Red. Mm-mm-mm." Three grunts in quick succession in case I was gagged.

"Good girl." I blushed slightly. I felt his hands grip my wrists and start to wind rope around them. He passed it in between my wrists and I felt the loops tighten as he tied it off. I tested the bonds slightly. They were comfortable but didn't give.

He spoke again, "are you a good cocksucker, whore?"

The change in tone startled me a bit, and my face was burning as I answered. "I, I don't know sir." I'd done it a handful of times ever, more than a year ago. I'd practiced on a dildo but it couldn't give me feedback. He knew that, he was trying to embarrass me, and it worked even though I knew that was what he was doing.

"We'll train you."

Training suggested repetition. It suggested that he was planning to be here again, like this, with me. That he'd made up his mind, not that he was thinking about it. And, well, I wanted to be a good cocksucker. "Thank you sir."

I heard him stand, a couple of footsteps and a zipper. Then something warm pressed against my lips, I parted them and leaned forwards and I probably wasn't good at it but I was at least sucking on a cock. The cock of this man who'd used me so intimately while I'd never even seen him. I drew it into my mouth, feeling his balls gently brushing against my chin. I started suckling gently and was rewarded with a "good girl" as he started to grow.

He began to moan softly and put his hand on my head, his thumb stroking my temple, his fingers snaking through my hair. He started to thrust gently in to me, and I started to rock back and forth in time with his strokes, feeling his balls brush against my chin. Before long I tasted a drop of salty precum. It felt like a reward for a job well done and I gave a low moan of appreciation. Soon after that he'd grown to a size I could no longer feel his balls even at the deepest part of his thrusts.

He sped up his thrusts, and used his hand in my hair to ensure I did as well, pushing me forwards and pulling me back until I'd picked up the rhythm. Occasionally he'd thrust slightly deeper and I'd gag slightly, making a gacking noise as he touched the roof of my mouth. He followed these up with shallower thrusts that I could take comfortably, giving me a chance to recover slightly. Still, I could feel tears well up in my eyes and start to run down my cheeks before he stopped suddenly, his cock most of the way in my mouth, using his hand to hold me in place when I tried to pull back.

"Well done whore," he said, and it sounded like he meant it. I wanted to thank him but I was breathing heavily, and before I could he continued. "We're going to really test your gag reflex now. Are you ready?" Grateful for the warning, I took a few moments more to calm my breathing before I made a small "uh-huh" noise.

Quickly he drew me back in and I began choking in earnest. I instinctively tried to pull back but he held me fast and I felt myself start to panic, struggling against the rope that bound my wrists. After just a few seconds he relented, drawing back until his cock left my mouth completely. I gasped out loud and hyperventilated briefly, then started taking deeper, slower breaths to calm down.

Apparently he took that as his cue to go again - maybe he wanted to make sure I had time to tap out if I was going to. He placed his tip back on my lips, and when I parted them for him he thrust back in with one fluid motion. Again I started to choke and panic, and again he pulled back after a few seconds. This time he left his cock half in my mouth, not letting me pull back further, making me breathe through my nose as I made desperate whining noises in my throat.

As I tried to regain my composure I vaguely heard him say, "good girl. Try not to struggle." And then he thrust in a third time, and I was choking again but this time I deliberately tried not to panic. I clenched my fists and focused on my nails digging into my palms, making an effort not to tug against my bonds. That focus helped to distract me from my throat, and even though I was gagging I wasn't trying to pull my head back.

He stayed there for a few seconds longer this time before pulling out completely, and I began to cough and sputter. I felt drool dripping down my chin and tears down my cheeks. Breathing heavily, I didn't realize he'd brought his face close to mine until I heard him say "such a good slut," and felt his breath on my face. His praise helped to calm me, and then he drew me in close and began to kiss me.

I hadn't expected that and for a moment I didn't react, my lips unmoving as his pressed against them, in what must have been one of the worst starts to a kiss he'd ever had. But then I began to participate, hungrily pressing back against him, dancing with his tongue as it explored my own, moaning as he gently bit my lip. I wanted to wrap my arms around him but they just tugged uselessly against my bonds, I wanted him to wrap his around me but he didn't. Lips and tongue and teeth were the only touch I was granted and it was perfect, perfect but maddening because I wanted so much more.

When he finally pulled away I let out a whimper of frustration and softly said "please," without any particular please in mind. After a second I was rewarded with a slap to my face, hard enough to turn it to the side and make me gasp: "please sir," he admonished. Fuck, I should have known better. "Please sir-" I said, and then went quiet again.

"Better. Please what, whore?"

The answer tumbled out of me without thought: "please fuck me, sir." It wasn't all I wanted, not by a long shot; I wanted him to hold me, to hurt me, to use my body as a rag doll. But I wasn't very well able to articulate that, and "fuck me" is what came out.

I heard him smile - I still don't know how I can do that. "Oh, I intend to. Soon."

I felt him grasp my tits and tug up. His grip wasn't very tight through two layers of clothing, but I got the message and stood up, unsteadily without the use of my hands. I breathed deeply as I heard him walk around me, wondering what he was going to do to me next.

He made two and a half laps, me hearing his soft footsteps and imagining him looking me up and down, as if I was a piece of merchandise he was examining. Then he stepped in close and grabbed me from behind, his right hand reaching over my shoulder and back around to my left tit, his left hand on my belly. He was pressed up against me, I could feel his bare arm against my neck and the fabric of his top against my arms. I could also feel his cock between us, it was trapped between his belly and my left hip. I wished my own top wasn't there so I could feel it against my skin directly.

He began to maul my tit and I moaned, this would never normally feel like much of anything but with how turned on I was I loved the sensation. Simultaneously his left hand pulled up my top just slightly, so that his fingertips were resting on my navel. He could slide them down into my skirt, or he could pull them up to raise my top higher, and I didn't know which I wanted more.

He went down. He just slid his fingers under the hem of my skirt while he continued to grope my breast through two layers of clothing, and slowly began to lower them further. I moved my legs apart slightly in anticipation, trying to give him full access to me without lowering my upper body much. Soon he reached my panties, and he slid under those as well, and then - I gasped and jerked as he touched my clit, but his grip around me was strong enough that I barely moved. He ignored me and just started stroking up and down between my legs, his fingers sliding easily through my folds as I moaned with every motion.

He spoke into my ear with a mixture of pride and condescension: "your cunt is wet for me! That must mean you like this, whore." I tried to answer in the affirmative but all that came out was a sort of "uh-huuuuugh" noise that made him chuckle.

Still stroking my pussy, he drew back his other hand and slid it under my top and bra. He gripped with my fingers and pulled to draw my tit up, then reached down further until he was cupping my nipple. He began to play with it, sometimes stroking gently and sometimes pinching roughly. Then he began to rub my pussy harder too, I could feel my orgasm building up and knew it wouldn't be long.

Of course he stopped just before it arrived, pulling his hands away without warning. My grunts of pleasure became groans of frustration, and I began to struggle in his grip, tugging uselessly at my bonds, trying to finish the job with my hands. I would probably have had some choice words for him, and he would probably have punished me for them. But before I regained the ability to speak he put three fingers in my mouth, and after one final muffled groan I began to obediently suck my juices off them.

I began to calm down after a few moments, and he spoke into my ear. "I choose when you get to cum, slut. You don't have permission yet. Understand?" I made an mm-hm noise and nodded, his fingers still in my mouth. "Maybe I won't let you cum at all. You're especially hot when you're all worked up like this, maybe I'll leave you this way." I made a pathetic little whining noise, please no! "You don't want that, but you'd obey. Wouldn't you, slut?" I nodded mm-hm again, feeling some trepidation but no uncertainty. I'd try, anyway. "Good girl. I'm very pleased with you so far."

That made me blush with pride, and I made a happy noise in my throat. He pulled his fingers out of my mouth. "Thank you sir," I told him, leaning into his embrace and tilting my head back so my mouth was closer to his.

I felt him begin to play with the hem of my top, pulling it up again just enough so that his fingers could dance on my waist between that and my skirt. "Mm? And what are you thanking me for?"

I hadn't been expecting that question. "Thank you for the compliment, sir," I said, but that didn't feel complete. "Um, thank you for using me sir. Thank you for letting me suck your cock. Thank you for making me your slut sir." I felt a pang of shame to be saying these things, but they also felt true, and I was in no position to be trying to filter myself.

He pulled my top up higher, his hands on my bare skin were just below my breasts now. "And what else are you?"

I swallowed. "I'm your whore sir. Your slave. Your fucktoy." That last was a word I'd never said out loud, though it had been included in some fantasies of mine. My voice was unsteady as it came out, but he didn't seem to notice.

He pulled my top higher still, all the way up to my collarbone, his hands cupping my breasts through my bra and gently squeezing. "And what a good fucktoy you are." I felt weak at the knees, and if he hadn't been supporting me I might have collapsed. "Thank you sir," I said again.

He continued to pull the front of my top up until my head popped through the neck hole, using a hand to hold my blindfold in place. With my hands bound the garment couldn't come free, so he just left it hanging behind me. I felt him undo my bra from behind, and then the cups fell forward - it couldn't escape either, but now my tits were exposed. He took advantage of that by gripping both my nipples between his thumbs and fingers and twisting roughly.

I grunted with pain, but it didn't last long. After just a moment he released my tits and grabbed my skirt instead. I felt him tuck the hem into the waistband, in front and back. It was long enough to still just about count as a skirt, I didn't think my panties were visible, but it didn't even reach mid-thigh.