The Collar

There comes a time in your life when you realize that your mother was right about something for once: someday, you will meet a man that makes you forget about your boundaries.

That man is waiting for me in the living room, naked from the waist up. He's sprawled in the armchair like a bored god-king, eyes agleam with desire. He hasn't spoken a word, but I know he's getting impatient. Meanwhile, I'm still naked in my room, fresh out of the shower, a towel wrapped around my naked body. The...things he's asked me to wear are laid out on the table.

He let me pick out the color, when he bought them for me. Baby pink, with tiny cartoon pigs printed on the fabric. I thought it was hillarious at the time. Next to them, the tiny top and short skirt. 'Pornstar work clothes' I called them, joking. He smiled and said 'sounds about right'. It made my knees go weak, the way he'd say that. The way he would never raise his voice at me, the way he'd stare me down every time I'd go on a tangent and ramble on and on until I was spent. Every inch of him radiated control and I'd be lying if I said that I didn't enjoy it.

I look at myself in the full-body mirror, when I drop the towel. Barry the control-freak had bought it for me, back when we used to date. He used to make me look into it when we had sex. It was the absolute limit of his kinks. That and me being on top, that is. I used to hate how he would fawn over me like I was a goddess, drooling like a schoolboy over my breasts, cupping my face in his hands and cooing. He wasn't half-bad, though. I met Keith through him. Keith the muscle-freak, the forever-jock. Keith who loved to fawn over his bulging muscles all day and pester me to get into shape. I can't say I'm ungrateful for it. I've got a flat stomach now and a bubble behind, good strong legs from running ten kilometers a day. That's how I and Jason hooked up; clumsy little guy, but cute nonetheless. He would buy me outfits so we could roleplay but never act on it. It was through Jason that I met...him. Or perhaps he chose me. It's difficult to tell after all this time, to pinpoint the exact moment that I noticed him in a crowded room, his eyes transfixing mine, drawing me in. I was his before he'd even laid a finger on me. By the time he wrapped his arm around my waist and pressed me against his body on the dance floor, I knew I would be his.

Pulling the thong up my legs, I imagine him looking at me in secret through some corner of the room, quietly observing, eyes trailing across the contours of my body. I close my eyes and imagine his hands pulling the thong up by the straps across my legs, his body so close I could reach out and touch it. The fabric nestles between my buttocks, rides up past my waist. I tug it once, the way I knew he would do it, in a show of quiet force. Once upon a time, me and the girls would make fun of girls wearing those out in public. We never used the s-word, but we all thought about it. I twirl around in the mirror, look at how it nestles against my skin. It makes me feel dirty, in a good way. The bra exacerbates things. He bought it two sizes too small on purpose. My breasts are spilling out of it, exposing my aureolae.

The top isn't any better: the buttons barely hold together, pushing up my breasts. My nipples are sticking out against the white fabric. I run my fingers over them, teasing for a second, before I stop. The orders were clear. 'No touching' he'd said, matter-of factly. Somehow that makes me want to do it even more. With trembling hands, I pinch them softly over the fabric. I tug at them playfully. A live current runs across the length of my spine. A tiny soft moan escapes my mouth. Biting my lip, I shudder hoping he didn't hear. He hadn't mentioned a punishment for disobedience but then he never needed to; I consented to his pleasure. Nevertheless, I ran a finger over the fabric between my legs, as a tiny sign of defiance, moving across the smooth slit all the way to my nub. The fabric was wet already.

The skirt was too short to even cover my behind. It made me feel so utterly exposed, downright dirty. "I hope he doesn't make me wear this outside" I whispered softly and blushed. A tiny little part of me wished he'd do it; that he would parade me down the street and show me off. Uselessly, I tugged down at the fabric, trying to cover myself. What was happening to me? I never used to be like that before, not before him. Stretching myself in front of the mirror, I run my hands down all over my body, all over my breasts, my belly, my thighs. The s-word comes to mind. It's odd, how good it sounds when I think of him saying it, rolling off his tongue.

I strap on the high-heels, a little touch of my own. He doesn't care too much about shoes. Heck, he doesn't seem to care much about anything but I know that he'll love hearing them clicking on the marble floor as I come closer. He promised there was something special in it for me today, so I might as well go the extra mile.

I leave the bedroom, making my way to the living room. My heels click audibly on the marble floor. I put one leg in front of the other, walk so my hips will sway. He can't see me yet, so I take an extra second to master it. When I turn the corner and see him, looking me over like a warrior-king, I know I've got it right. He gives me his signature 'devil-may-care' smile and I know I've gotten it down to a tee. Raising his hand, he motions for me to come closer, raises his hand and holds out his palm for me to stop when I'm three steps away, just out of my reach. He never wears cologne, but I can still smell the testosterone wafting through his skin. I bite my lip to keep myself from just jumping him outright. I know he wouldn't want that and I don't want it either. We want this to be perfect.

"On your knees" he says in a hushed whisper. I comply immediately, dropping down on the floor. It's cold, but I don't care. Every inch of me is on fire. Something clinks in his left hand. My eyes go wide as I watch him produce the bright-red collar from under a couch cushion. I tense up, try to mutter a defense but he doesn't give me any time, clasping it on in the blink of an eye, just tight enough for me to feel it against my skin. A chain dangles from the end of it. It's a DIY job, made out of a length of leather, and a plain steel ring to keep the wrought steel chain in place. Everything about it feels so unclean, almost primal. My defenses are breaking down before I even have a chance to respond.

He leans over to me, his rough calloused hands running through my hair, down the back of my neck. He massages the flesh and I relax exactly like a kitten. When he leans to me, his lips bush against mine. I can feel his hot breath on my mouth and shiver. My lips part willingly, hungrily. He toys with me as I struggle to kiss him, pulls away from me every single time. I hate him for it, but he makes me want it even more. Wrapping the chain around his hand, he tugs me forward. Our lips meet and I kiss him deeply, hungrily. My sex is wet, wanting. I try to reach my hands out and grasp him, pull him in but another gentle tug makes me keep my palms flat against my hips.

He breaks the kiss, a million years later. I'm panting like an animal in heat, shivering all over. My nipples stick out even more against the tight little top. Moving my eyes down across his sculpted body, I can see the bulge on his jeans, tenting up the fabric. He's never seemed so big to me before. I gasp at the sight of it.

"You want this?" he asks me, moving his hips just enough to show me the goods. I nod, panting. His hand grasps a tuft of my hair, leads me down against it. My lips brush against his jeans, tracing the outline of his girth, his veins, travelling across his length. I suck hungrily at him. My hands dart out to grasp his knees. "No" he says. I pull them back lightning quick but I don't dare break my mouth away from him. He grins against my face. A tiny spot of precum dribbles through the fabric and I lap at it with my tongue, taste it. Its musky scent is overpowering. I look up at him, my eyes wide and pleading. He eases up on the chain gives me just enough length to pull back. Slowly, he begins to unbotton his jeans, once by one. I can see the flesh coming into view, the veins clearly outline against his engorged flesh. My mouth goes dry as I see his member straining against the fabric, aching to pop out. He stops at the last second, savoring the tension. His hand grasps one of my nipples, tugs at it, twists it. I shake all over, the anticipation driving me up the wall. "I heard you back there." he tells me "you've been naughty."

I mewl like an animal, lowering my head. I've never made this sound before; not for anyone. It's a keening, wanting noise, the kind cats make as they sit in their haunches and howl at the moon. Most of my colleagues would call this degrading, shake their heads and quote Dworkin at me if they would walk into this scene, see the chair of the Gender Studies faculty on her knees, hungry for a man. I wouldn't blame them. It's not something that you can really put to words, this sensation that drives me to this point. This terrible, unquenchable thirst that I know only he could ever sate.

"Take it out" he whispers. I linger, looking him over, expecting -no, wanting- some sort of term, an arbitrary handicap. "Use your mouth" he adds and my honeypot quivers. A miniature orgasm makes my hips shudder as I lean down and clamp my teeth on the fabric, pulling it off him. The flaps fall back and he springs out, engorged and hot an ready, his length covered in feins. I nuzzle my face against him, feel the warmth over my lips, against my tongue. A droplet of clear pre dribble down from the tip, runs along the length of it. I run my tongue across it, lap it up. My tastebuds are overwhelmed with the newfound pleasure. For the first time in my life, I want to taste evry inch of a man, feel him fill my mouth. I kiss my way down to the base, all the way to his sack. He's shaved clean down there, just for this. Most guys did it just to make it seem bigger. Sucking his sack into my mouth, I lap at with my tongue, roll it around. He lets out a bellowing groan, like a prize bull, caresses my hair. That's all the reward I need to know I'm doing a good job.

When he tugs again, this time up, I move along the length of him slowly, tasting the flesh. Reaching the tip, I stop to kiss the engorged flesh, run my tongue along its girth. For a second, I find myself worrying if it will choke me but I can't bring myself to give a damn. My eyes look up into his, at his flushed, wanting expression. There's a silent exchange between us, as he gives me the a-okay. He's in my mouth the next instant. I suck on his head, let it go with an audible pop, watch as it rebounds on his abs. I take ikt once agaion, this time deeper, pressimg my tongue against his length, leading it down inch by inch, easing it into my mouth. I stop when it reaches my throat, fight back against my gag reflex. Pulling back to take a breath, I plunge myself down on him. His length slides down into my throat and I choke, but I hold it in. The collar makes my neck tighten around him, grip him but I drive myself down. He's pulled his hand away from my hair. I'm doing this of my own volition, just for him.

I pull away from him, lingering at the tip and open my mouth wide. I take a deep breath and plunge down again. His girth invades me, makes my neck bulge obscenely. Tears well up in my eyes. I strain to look at him, his face aglow with pure pleasure. He's enjoying every second of this, watching my lips as they stretch around him, my face twisting as I struggle to take the last bit of him inside me. I breathe in through my nose to calm myself, dig my nails into my thighs and finally plunge down all the way to the base. The chocking sensation comes back full force. For one second, I feel like I could gag. My involuntary spasms massage his length. His hand caresses my hair and I know I've done good. I saty there, sucking at his base before I slowly pull out, inch by inch, sucking the entire way up. I slurp at his tip before I let go, panting.

"Good girl" he commends me and I smile, even as a thin line of spit still connects my lips to his member. "You want more?" he says and I nod eagerly, my eyes locked into his own and I'm lost, waiting for his signal. When he graps my hair and brings me down I take him all the way down my throat again in a single thrust. It's amazing, how it comes almost naturally now. His hand still on my hair, he uses my mouth at his pleasure. I slide across him hungrily, aching for his release. When he lets me go, I wrap my hands around his thighs and dive down, holding myself down there for as long as I can.

My nose mashes against his pelvis but I keep going. "Damn..." he groans like an animal. His hand reaches down and smacks my exposed behind; a short, sharp smack that makes the flesh jiggle. I moan all over him. His nails dig into my flesh, raking across it. I can already see the lines across my flesh when I'll look myself in the mirror tomorrow morning. His hands knead and smack me, forehand and backhand, turn me red and raw. Pain and pleasure mix inside me, set fire to the animal part of my brain. When his fingers grasp my thong and tug it upward, causing the fabric to grind against my nub I go over the edge. He explodes in me in perfect sync.

His hot seed explodes into my throat. Gulping down the first spurts, I pull myself off, taking every drop he can give me even while my honeypot quivers against the thin strip of fabric. My hips shiver, nearly giving way under me. Every fiber of my body turns to jelly at that moment and all I can do is fight back my urge to howl, only so that I won't let him leave my mouth for even an instant. When I do pull away, I can still feel his hot seed in my mouth, feel it swishing around in my tongue. Even he seems pleasantly surprised when I open my mouth and show him my bounty, then swallow. The taste is thick and mildly unpleasant, but I don't care as long as I can see that animal lust in his eyes.

He leaves the armchair, the chain still in his hand. I move to get up, but a hard sharp tug sends the message clearly 'crawl'. He's huge, standing a good two heads over me. He's not a muscular hunk, but he's strong where it counts. I follow on my hands and knees, trailing behind him, my eyes fixed to his back, trailing down the arch of his spine to his behind. His member is swelling again, getting hard. Domination is his favorite kind of aphrodisiac and I couldn't be happier.

I crawl behind him all the way to the living room table. Another tug and I stop. When he bends over and picks me up, I go limp; let him lie me down over the wooden top. My skin sticks to it. my hands are slippery with sweat. His hands grasp me by the ankles, slide me across the top and I feel him against my lips, a thing stip of fabric the only thing keeping him from sliding inside me. I grind against him, wrapping my legs around his waist, waiting on his command. My hands reach out for him, nails raking across his chest. My inhibitions disappear as I try to goad him inside me. He keeps his cool even as I grind and pant like I'm in heat.

"Easy there, kitten" he whispers, enjoying every second of this. He's only halfway hard, but I can feel him swelling, hardening against me. His fingers trail down my neck, across the exposed flesh of my breasts. They feel like firecrackers popping off against my skin. He slips under the flaps of my top, cupping my breasts in his bare hands under my bra. He kneads the flesh like he owns it, slipping them out of the cups. With a single fluid motion, re rakes a finger down the top's straining buttons. I watch them fly off, letting my breasts burst out. My nipples are erect. The flesh is covered in goose bumps. His hand smacks, them, flicks the nipples, makes the jiggle. The pleasure build up until I'm close to exploding. My hand grasps his member and I stroke him when his lips bursh over my aureolae and he takes my breasts in his mouth, sucking them hard, sinking his teeth into the flesh, alternating for gentle kisses just as the pain hits. My hand's still wrapped around his member, caressing it, playing with the viscous clear fluid. I slip my thong aside, exposing myself. Just a little bit more...

"What did I tell you?" he asks, yanking the chain. I'm picked up off the table top, dangling uselessly. The look in his eyes is unreadable. I can tell he's unhappy that I've defied him but my sex is sliding across him and I feel his tip grinding against my nub, his heavy sack against my behind. My hands rake uselessly at his back, my lips are opening and closing uselessly, seeking his. "Eager little hussy aren't you?" he hisses against my mouth. His knees buck for a moment. The next one, he's inside me.

I'm so wet that he slips inside in an instant. Every inch of him filling me all the way to my cervix, his girth stretching me across his length. I let out a sharp animal yelp as he fills me. My toes curl at the moment of entry. My third orgasm makes my insides shudder all over him. We kiss like it's our last day on Earth. Without thinking, I latch onto him, pick myself off the table, holding on for dear life. My own weight impales me on his length, lets him invade me deeper than any other man has ever done before. I ride his length hungrily, panting. His hands grasp my behind to prop me up, grind inside me, his tip meeting my cervix every single time.

A storm rages inside me, spreading up from my legs, moving up my belly to my breasts and finally releases from behind my eyes. For a single instant I feel like I'm flying, suspended over the world mid-thrust, the balls of my feet pushing against his thighs to give me leverage. He moves upward smoothly and I lose it. Hands lose their purchase. I'm left dangling from his waist by my shaking feet, the only things holding me from crashing against the hard floor being his steel grip around my waist. Unfettered, he keeps going, his pelvis grinding against my nub, letting me feel every second of this, let me feel him smack against my behind. I arch back, hands finding purchase against the floor. Both his hands are around my waist now. My hair are spilling down against the floor. My breasts flop down to my chin as he holds up my legs and uses me like a toy, driving me down against the floor with every single thrust.

"God, God, God!" I howl like a maniac as I feel the biggest orgasm yet brewing inside me, builing up to an explosive release. I can tell he's close to. Through clenched teeth I plead with him "Please give it to me, I want to feel it. I want it all over me..."

He's more the happy to comply. The next half-dozen thrusts are hard, calculated. Pulling out all the way to the tip just to slam inside me again and again and again. I feel him building up, closing in. He's holding it in until my own orgasm washes over me. My spasms are what sends him over the edge. He lingers just for a little bit, lets me feel that he could do it; he could release inside me, fill me with his seed and I wouldn't resist him for even a single second. Pulling out at the last second, he explodes all over my belly, my breasts. I feel a few droplets shooting through the air, landing all over my lips and cheeks. He bellows as he gives me every last drop, before finally easing me down onto the floor. My hands grasp his member, milk the last few drops on my belly. I watch him shake like a leaf before he finally falls to his knees.

"I'm thinking cuffs next time" he asks, taking me in his arms on the floor. The suggestion alone sends a pleasant tingling sensation down my spine.

"Yes please." I moan as I writhe in his warm embrace.