tagBDSMSweet Surrender

Sweet Surrender


Have you ever had a secret? Have you ever been haunted with thoughts that aroused you, and scared you at the same time? Thoughts of pleasure that made you feel uncomfortable? Have you ever been tortured with thoughts that you wouldn't want to admit to anyone else turned you on? Greg had such a desire. Actually, it was more like a painful secret. One that he could barely acknowledge himself. It was virtually impossible; it was unthinkable for him to contemplate. Real men would never have thoughts like that, not real hardcore brothas like himself. He did everything he could to suppress his thoughts, deny his feelings, and ignore his longings. In real life, Greg projected the opposite of his real desires. He wasn't even aware of when the fantasies first started. Afraid of the implications and ramifications, he did everything possible to create another reality. It was essential for him to manufacture a truth in which his fantasies would not haunt him, a reality in which "she" was not there.

Greg was your better than average looking, extremely intelligent, mad cool brotha. He was a ladies man for sure but that wasn't his fault. He was 6'2", 220 lbs. of sculpted ebony, baldheaded, and penetrating green eyes. His eyes were obviously some sort of genetic mix up from a recessive slave master gene, but it separated him from the rest. He worked out every day to keep his body together, six-pack, chiseled chest, his shit was tight. He stood out in a crowd, in a word, he was fine. A graduate of Yale Law, Greg was a successful attorney. He was a fraternity member, played ball with the boys on the weekend, upstanding, a really, genuinely nice guy. In his lifetime, he had had more pussy than he knew what to do with. Name a fantasy, Greg had done it . . . twice. Threesomes, group sex, sex any and every place you can imagine, in fact, he had done every wild, nasty, kinky, sweaty, hot sex act humanly possible. Now, his own secret perversions were driving him to distraction. The more he tried to suppress them the more the images and sensations crept into his head.

She stalked him: his dreams, his thoughts, his fantasies. This vision, his goddess, his perfect woman crept into his thoughts when he least expected her to. She was always there, possessing his perversions, lurking in the recesses of his mind. In fact, it seemed that the more stress he was under at work the more his thoughts drifted to his secret. Sometimes at night, Greg would stay awake as long as possible watching late night ESPN, avoiding the bed at all costs; afraid to go to sleep because he knew she would be there. She was there, behind his eyes as he drifted off into a peaceful slumber, only to torture him with pleasure untold. Even though she was completely a creation of his imagination, he knew everything about her; what she looked like, the way she moved, what she smelled like, her every desire and he also knew how to satisfy them all. He could feel the intensity of her stare and the caress of her touch. It was too bad she was just a fantasy, or maybe that was a good thing.

Greg needed to get out. He had a case he was litigating and it was a career maker or breaker. If he won this case, it would be what he needed to set the stage for the rest of his career. There were complications with the opposing council and it was starting to look like this was going to end up being a knock down, drag out fight. There were rumors that the litigants on the other side were bringing in some hot shot, heavy hitter attorney that had a reputation for taking no prisoners. It was some mystery lawyer that supposedly had never lost a case and dotted every 'i' and crossed every 't' and left no stone unturned in order to get a favorable judgment. Greg needed to get out to release some of the tension because he was working 20 hours a day trying to prepare for this case that could make or break his career.

The list of invited guests at the record release party that Friday night read like a who's who in the social registry of hip hop. Everybody who was anybody was there. The label had rented the club for the entire night and Dom P flowed freely. Greg was dressed head to toe in Emporio Armani and he showed up slightly after 11:00. He mixed and mingled with the best of them, one of the perks of dabbling in some entertainment law every now and again. Of course, events like this one drew the most beautiful women, wearing next to nothing, looking to get a record deal, be in a video, or end up hot and sweaty in the back of a Bentley with the rapper du jour. This night was no exception. Fly honeys were everywhere. He would never admit it openly, modesty prevailing, but Greg was always the best looking brotha wherever he went. The ladies this evening were in competition for his attention, and to Greg, they were toys to be played with.

There was one young lady that stood out. She was wearing a short skirt and didn't really care who saw that she was without panties or thong. Somehow, she had made her way to the VIP section of the club and was flashing shaved pussy and fat ass for anyone who wanted to look to see. Her titties were so big, for a woman her size, they looked fake. The way they jiggled and bounced in her skimpy little top left no doubt in anyone's mind they were real fo' sho'. The fact that she was so breathtakingly beautiful was what set her apart. Perfectly packaged, she could easily be considered in the ranks of Aaliyah, Jennifer, and Janet, minus the refinement. Fellas and ladies alike were intimidated by her looks. All the other females in the club were either openly hating on her or lusting after her. Guys were buying her drinks and flashing cash like there was no tomorrow trying to impress her. All the men in the club were dying to step to her but they were afraid that if they approached her and she laughed at their advances they would never live it down. Greg had no such fear.

Greg positioned himself directly in front of her. They made eye contact and the stage was set for an evening of intense sexuality. She was sitting on a couch and he was directly in front of her in a chair separated by about 10 feet or more. She opened her legs to reveal her surprise. Even with the dim lights of the club, he could see the reflection of the silver bar that had pieced her clit. People started to gather around and take notice, at first inconspicuously, then more voyeuristically. The chemistry between the two of them was electrifying. Greg kept his distance; he knew how the game was played. The young lady was desperate for his attention; she needed him to want her. She pulled her skirt up to her waist and non-verbally dared anybody else to even come near her. Her gaze was focused completely on Greg.

He mouthed the words, "Fuck yourself," and she proceeded to do so. She spread the lips of her pussy with her left hand and rubbed her clit with the index finger of her right. She seductively rubbed her pussy up and down, dipping her finger in her hot pussy. Her finger was coated with juices and she made a point of sucking them off like she was sucking a dick. She loved all the attention and the admirers. All the while, not 20 yards away, people were dancing the night away, totally unaware, to the latest joint from DMX. The nameless beauty was forming quite a crowd around her with her performance. People had now formed a circle around them, waiting for more instruction from Greg. Everyone watched in silence as she got more and more into fucking herself, but the effects were taking their toll. Hard dicks were protruding from the latest Sean John, Enyce, and FUBU gear. The ladies were discretely stimulating themselves, afraid that if they were too conspicuous, people would think that they were desperate for attention. If there hadn't been metal detectors searching everyone at the door, you could have cut the tension with a knife.

Greg was amused. He yielded his natural power over the woman from across the room. With a snap of his fingers, he signaled for someone to move the table that separated him and his new friend out of the way. Immediately, brothas lifted the decorative but substantial coffee table out of the way and where it disappeared to is anyone's guess. By this time, the woman was fingering herself like crazy. She had spread her legs wide and was fucking herself with reckless abandon. She had three fingers thrusting in and out of her pussy and was rubbing on her clit. She reached down and shoved her finger in her ass and the entire crowd gasped for air with her, like they felt the same sensation with her. Greg stood up and took his dick out. He moved closer to her, within a few feet. He started stroking it and everyone there could see the look of desperation in the girl's eyes. She shut her eyes and started ramming her fingers in and out of her ass. She was breathing hard and lost in her own pleasure.

Greg could tell she was about to cum and he said, "Don't you dare cum. Stop right now. NOW!" She couldn't stop. She was too far-gone. She needed the release. The feeling of ecstasy and pleasure in her ass were not of this world. Greg signaled the two women who were closest to her to grab her hands and make her stop. "Restrain her, don't let her move. Hold her arms." The two women appeared to be in their own trance and followed orders without hesitation. They grabbed her by her wrists and pulled her arms to either side of her. It was too late. That was enough to send her over the edge and the waves of pleasure came crashing down on her. She moaned like a wounded animal. Her body convulsed with rapture. Cum was literally dripping out of her pussy. It took all the strength of the two young ladies to restrain her. She was babbling and screaming, "Fuck me, Fuck me damn it, ride this pussy, use it, stick it in me, now!" Greg had seen this look of desperation so many times before. His eyes were glazed over eyes, panting and heavy breathing, and a suspension of reality really. They were women with the look of need on their faces. She had a need to be pushed further than they had ever been pushed before.

Sensing the direction things were going, Greg signaled the make shift bodyguards to release their captive. Unsure of what to do next, she simply waited for Greg's next command. "Crawl to me," he said. Like a panther, sleek, Black and sexy, she crawled on her hands and knees to him. He grabbed his dick and held it in her face. The crowd drew in closer, fully aware that any live sex act in the club would not only get somebody arrested, but close the club down and result in mad fines and negative publicity, no matter how much the party promoter had paid to rent the club. Kneeling before him, the woman waited for her next instruction. She felt honored to be at the feet of this mysterious stranger, even though she was quite sure she would never see him after that night. Greg held his dick to her lips. He took the tip between his fingers and squeezed it causing pre-cum to ooze out. "Tongue fuck the slit." With that, the woman stuck her tongue out and began to seductively lick Greg's rock hard dick. She was trying to get the tip of her tongue in his piss hole. The sensation was enough to make Greg's dick throb and jump. He was stroking his dick, milking it, forcing more pre-cum out.

Up to the challenge, she was licking it up like it was the sweetest honey. She stuck her tongue out and licked Greg all the way from his balls to the head of his dick, even licking his hand as he continued to jerk off for the crowd. Overcome with lust, he grabbed her head, pulled her by her hair, and slid his dick deep in her mouth with one thrust. Her mouth felt like a hot, wet, tight pussy. She was sucking it like a pro. Her tongue was swirling around the shaft as her lips kept up a steady rhythmic sucking. Her spit was all over him, and if you listened closely, you could hear her slurping noises even over the music. She kept her eyes glued on Greg and eagerly awaited his next command. Greg was on the verge. The inside of her mouth felt like hot silk. The cum was boiling up in his nuts, the sack drawing up close to his body. Lights were flashing, the music pumping and he was thrusting in and out of her mouth. She had taken him deep. He was fucking her face. "Yeah, suck my dick, that's right, swallow my joint whole." Greg closed his eyes and concentrated on the beautiful woman sucking, licking, and swallowing his dick. The sensations were incredible. The suction on his dick felt like he would never get head this good again in his life. He grabbed the back of her head and started to pump his dick in and out.

He opened his eyes to see the reaction of the crowd. He glanced around him, just to see who was watching and . . . "She" caught his eye. She didn't fit in with the rest of the crowd; she emanated an air of sophistication and distance. It was her aura that made Greg feel like he was looking at the woman of his dreams. She was staring through him, watching the entire scene. Greg gasped for air and wanted to scream out to his fantasy woman. As quickly as she was there, she was gone. She disappeared into the club.

Distracted and positive it was the woman of his dreams, Greg lost all his concentration. The woman before him now meant absolutely nothing. He wanted to run after his mystery woman, call out to her find out who she was. All of his secret fantasies and desires started flooding his mind. The woman sucking his dick no longer aroused him. He grabbed her head and groaned out loud. Everyone watching knew exactly what was happening. Greg and his dick-sucking friend knew differently. Greg faked it. He pretended to cum. Actress that she was, the young lady didn't let on any differently. She couldn't see what had happened, but she had sucked enough dicks to know something was weird, so she just played along.

Greg grabbed his still hard dick and put it back in his pants. He didn't even wait for her response or to see what was going to happen to the horny crowd. He was off in search of the mystery woman. He looked in every corner of the club. He even went into the employee only areas and the ladies room. He was crazed. He wasn't even sure what he would say to her when he found her. No luck. She was nowhere to be found. Once more around the club, just to make sure, he emerged out into the night, desperate and confused. Had it all been a dream, did he make it all up? Did she really exist?

Greg was dazed. He began to wonder if he had really seen her at all. Maybe it was just his imagination playing tricks on him. When he really thought about it, he was convinced it was really all blown out of proportion. The woman in his fantasies was his creation; she didn't really exist. He stood in the night air trying to convince himself he was making it all up. He was kicking himself for running out on ole' girl in the club. She would have been an interesting depository for some of his frustration. For a minute, he thought about going back inside, but he knew that she could never satisfy his real appetites. His thoughts were distracted. For an instant he recalled the sensation he felt when the ominous stranger made eye contact with him. It was as if she could see right through him. She was not affected like the rest of the crowd. It was as if she was taking notes, objectively observing. It was more than apparent that she saw through Greg's façade. She saw what no one else could see. Greg shook his head, trying to dissuade himself from such thoughts. He was really losing his mind. There was no way anybody could affect him that was from only thirty seconds of eye contact. He felt pretty sure about it.

He realized that he had been standing outside in the warm night air for about 30 minutes, just lost in thoughts and fantasies. The only thing that snapped him back into reality was the insistent need in his pants for release. His dick was pulsating, demanding his attention. He summoned for the valet to get his truck and did his best to keep his erection from showing. Once inside his vehicle, the tinted windows shielded him from the rest of the world, but not his fantasies. She was calling out to him now; he could feel her fingernails down his back, her breath as she whispered nasty things in his ear, her hand wrapped around his dick. He was driving around aimlessly in a daze not knowing where to go. All he wanted was for his thoughts to go away. The high beams in his rear view made him snap back into reality. He realized that he was in the red light district of town. It couldn't hurt to stop off, pick up a magazine or a video before he went home to take some of the pressure off.

As secure as Greg was with his sexuality, when he sought out release for his secret desires, he was intimidated and scared. He was sure no other brothas on the face of the planet shared his thoughts. He entered the store and looked around, no one was there except him and the tattooed white guy behind the counter. He made his way over to his favorite section of the store. He wanted to just take it all in, stand there and look at all the images. Too bad they were all white people on the boxes, but at that particular point and time, he really didn't give a damn. Greg's dick was still hard, with no signs of going down any time soon. He heard the chimes on the door signal that someone else had entered but he didn't turn around. He was going to pick out a magazine and a flick and be out. Ahhh, decisions, which ones to choose? He had just made his selections when he reached out to pick up his choice. Just then, an arm reached across him and grabbed the exact same video.

"I always find that true female domination comes from the softest whisper, not physical force. Don't you agree?"

Oh, shit. It was "her." He was frozen. No, it couldn't be. How? What the . . .? The blood rushed to his head and his ears were ringing. His heart was racing. His heart was beating so fast, he felt like he was going to faint. His mouth was dry. There was no way he could form words to speak.

"I asked you a question. Aren't you going to answer me?", she said. Nope, he wasn't, he couldn't. All he could do was just stare. She was exactly the woman he had dreamt of. At 5'8", around 135 lbs, She was a size 4, no, maybe a 6. Her skin was the most perfect color of mocha, flawless and it looked so smooth, like a baby's. Her naturally curly hair was pulled up and secured in a severe, dramatic style, but he could tell that the second she let it down, it would go back to Africa, in it's most beautiful state. She was dressed in a sexy black suit, probably Calvin Klein; it was severe and sophisticated. Her hosiery shimmered off of her perfectly sculpted calves, making him think that they were silk; he imagined that she picked up in Paris on her last trip abroad. Her shoes were definitely Italian. The black leather of her pumps framed her perfect size 7 foot like it was a work of art. Her most striking feature was her eyes, jet-black and mysterious. They were so deep, so mesmerizing, Greg was jealous and captivated at the same time. He looked into those eyes and found his true home.

"Greg, are you going to answer me?"

He was snapped back into reality. "Wait, how do you know my name?"

"I know quite a bit about you Greg. It wasn't too hard to find out. You have quite the reputation. I would suggest in the future, that if you want to remain anonymous, that you not have women suck your dick in the middle of a very public club. I guess you aren't going to answer my question. Oh well, have a nice night."

"No, wait," the words came tumbling out; there was a panic in his voice. "Uhmmm, yes."

She looked at him with disgusted on her face. She didn't have to say anything. Greg lowered his eyes and addressed her again. "Yes, I think that the true female dominant can control with just her will, manipulation if you must, not force." Greg was rather pleased with himself, considering all the blood was not flowing to his brain, but rather his head.

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