The Coffee Table

This is my only story to date that is inspired, if only partially, by actual events.

***

She stands before him, on the opposite side of his kitchen. She still cannot catch her breath. The sight of him had taken her breath away the moment she walked through the door.

She meets his eyes only to lower them instantly, submitting to the heat in his gaze. He leans against the wall in a well-tailored suit, sans tie, his shirt unbuttoned one more button than is strictly necessary even in the summer heat. His eyes devour her, dressed for his pleasure in a brief, snug black skirt and an equally well-tailored shirt, seamed stockings, and high heels. Her blonde hair curled, also for his pleasure, at just the perfect length to grab a fistful should it suit him.

He lifts her chin and forces her eyes to meet his. She finds him irresistible, yet he intimidates her and she drops her eyes again. He moves even closer, the warmth of his breath releases a different warmth between her thighs.

He steps back and offers her a sip of his water, which she accepts. He takes the bottle from her and holds her at arms length and checks that every detail of her appearance pleases him. Satisfied, he takes her hand, "come with me."

He leads her around the corner to the living room and settles down in his chair, and points to the coffee table, "stand on the table."

"Yes, sir."

"Undress."

He reaches over and turns on a slow, grinding blues rhythm as she unbuttons her dress shirt distractedly.

"Pay attention, whore." He picks up a long dressage whip and she gasps when it strikes her thigh, leaving a long, thin, red welt.

She unbuttons her skirt, balancing precariously on her high heels as she steps out of it one foot at a time.

"Fold your clothes and place them on the corner of the table."

She folds the skirt and starts to place it in the corner in front of her and to the right.

"No, behind you."

She turns around and slowly bends over to put down the folded skirt. Her garters stretch with the movement, tugging her stockings so they frame the curves of her ass. Her balance is precarious and she bends all the way down slowly, exposing her bald and dripping cunt, just as he intended.

She begins to take off her shirt but feels the whip on her thigh once again. Instinctively, she stops and turns around so he can watch as she removes the shirt to reveal a black lace bra that matches the garter belt and, while it cups her round breasts beautifully, does nothing to conceal her rock hard nipples. She turns around again to fold the shirt and place it with the skirt. She cannot see his smile of approval as her pussy is again on display.

"Put this on." He hands her a weighty leather collar with several D-rings.

Then he hands her wrist and ankle cuffs, which she also dons. When she's tightened the last buckle, she presents herself to him for inspection, tits out, showing off her smoothly shaven pussy. He stands, slowly circles the coffee table and takes in her every detail.

"Spread your fucking legs." She complies instantly, the pain from the whip still fresh in her mind.

He picks up several lengths of chain and summons her to the edge of the table, snapping the heavy chains to her collar, wrists, and ankles, limiting her movements. He returns to his chair and changes the song, still blues, but slower now.

He sits back down in his recliner and just looks at her. He continues to enjoy the view as she stands there, displayed for him, restrained, nearly naked and totally at his mercy. The song transitions to another and yet another sensual blues number and he continues to watch her, testing her patience.

"Put your arms above your head."

She lifts her arms as high as the chains will allow. Finally, he speaks, "do you feel exposed, slut? Vulnerable?"

"No sir, not really, well, a little bit..."

She is startled by how quickly his hand is at her throat, just under the collar, squeezing tightly.

Her eyes water from the surprise and the lack of air, "I'm sorry, sir! I feel terribly exposed. But I am glad to be if it pleases you."

"Much better. Now get on your knees."

He walks around the coffee table back to the implements displayed next to his chair. A blindfold materializes from his pocket and then all she can see is blackness. She jumps involuntarily when he places the ear plugs in her ears. She can see and hear nothing but she can feel the low rumblings of the sultry blues that continue to play on the surround sound.

The flogger stings her breasts through the thin lace of her bra, but she's grateful he didn't start with anything more severe. The skin on her chest and stomach and upper thighs glows a brilliant pink when he steps away. She's managed to keep mostly still and quiet thus far but she tenses in fear when she feels the paddle swing towards her clenched ass cheeks. She calls out when the paddle violently contacts the tender skin. The second blow knocks her off balance, but she is not able to catch herself with her hands restrained by the chains.

He quickly steadies her with a firm hand on the back of her collar but says, "Lie face down." His touch is gentle as he helps her into the desired position but she can only feel the bruises begin to form on her ass and thighs.

He holds her down and administers the third stroke so she doesn't wiggle away.

She nearly falls off the table trying to escape the pain.

He connects both the wrist and ankle cuffs to each corner of the table before lifting her hips and spreading her knees so her ass is in the air and her tender pussy is exposed. The paddle lands squarely on her upturned ass six more times and the skin blossoms pink and then red.

He slowly and mercilessly moves down her thighs, checking to see how wet her pussy is between every few strokes. Finally, he fingers her deeply, soaking his fingers.

She can feel the air moving around her flaming skin, but she doesn't know that he intends to own her tight asshole until she feels his well-lubed cock slide inside her.

He is not gentle with her but he is kind enough to hold a vibrator to her clit while he ravages her ass deep and hard and fast. She is about to fall over the edge into an orgasm. But she hasn't asked permission and he will not allow her to cum—she concentrates on the sound of the coffee table's creaking to distract herself from the forbidden orgasm.

The creaking gets faster and louder as mercilessly pounds her until he reaches his own climax. He then slowly, excruciatingly pulls his thick, cum-covered cock out of her asshole, every nerve ending on fire with the sensation.

He unhooks her from the table before removing the blindfold and ear plugs and tells her to roll slowly to her side and sit up. She obeys but her ass and legs protest. She can tell already that the bruises will prevent her from wearing shorts for weeks.

He attaches a leash to her collar she begins to follow him across the carpet towards the bathroom.

"Wash my cock. Now."

She kneels before him and gently washes his hardening cock, rubbing the soap down his shaft until it is fully erect again. She rinses it clean and traces the droplets of water down his thighs before looking up at him.

"Do you want it in your mouth, whore?" She nods and opens her mouth to take its full length slowly into her throat, her tongue undulating over his warm skin. She grips his legs and then his firm ass and puts all her energy into worshiping his cock.

"Good girl," he moans and she braces for him to cum in her mouth. He pulls her leash unexpectedly and yanks her forcibly to her feet, stopping his impending orgasm.

He leads her to the bedroom. She stands next to the bed awaiting his next command.

"Face down, ass up, feet on the edge of the bed." When her position pleases him, he pulls her arms above her head and out to the side and snaps the wrist cuffs to the bed restraints. He then snaps a spreader bar between her legs.

He touches her wet clit and she wiggles towards his fingers, desperate for the release. Slowly, he rubs circles in just the right spot. She allows herself to enjoy it because she knows that he owns her orgasms and will be in no hurry.

She finally speaks when she is close to the edge of orgasm again, "Sir? May I please cum for your pleasure, please?"

"Yes, you may."

The motion of his fingers on her clit is bliss after the session on the coffee table.

"Thank you, sir," she moans as the wave of pleasure washes over her, the release she's been desperately seeking.

When she catches her breath, he places the vibrator on her swollen clit. She barely has time to enjoy the vibrations before he slams his cock into her pussy with several deep stokes. He holds himself deep inside her and grabs a fistful of her hair. Back arched, she gyrates on him, moaning with pleasure.

"You may cum as hard and as often as you like until I'm done with you, slut," and he begins to pound her again.

He hits her g-spot over and over and she is barely able to whisper her gratitude to him before the orgasms begin. She isn't sure if it is one or dozens, the way the sensations overlap and tear through her. She gives up on trying to control her primal screams and simply enjoys his use of her body, gripping the bed sheets as best she can in the restraints. At last his thrusting stops and with it the last orgasm. The vibrator continues to buzz on her clit and the pleasure is nearly unbearable. He pulls out of her as the orgasm subsides, leaving her there, bound, shaking and covered in their sweat.

"Get on your knees for me, whore," he says as he releases her from the bed and the spreader bar. Trembling, she crawls to the floor, kneels for him, and opens her mouth. He allows her a few sips of water before forcing her face down over his wet cock. She begins to suck him feverishly; the vibrator is still buzzing merrily on her clit and she finds herself wanting more.

"My, you are a greedy, whore aren't you."

He allows her to respond and she says, "Yes, sir. I want your cock so badly, sir."

"Get back on the bed, keep the vibrator on your clit."

She returns to her position on the bed and he again enters her soaking cunt. He builds speed and force gradually and soon she is convulsing again with overlapping orgasms. He begins to pump faster with his own orgasm and she ejaculates just as he does, this final orgasm bringing her to tears and their combined juices streaming down her legs.

She falls over on the bed, incoherent. The last thing she notices is the warmth of his body as he pulls the blanket around her.