The Domme Upstairs

A shadow moves in my periphery and vanishes the instant I turn my head to look at it. An instant later it's behind me; a dark figure the shape of a person but with no discernible features.

I begin to jog . . .

I am flanked by two more figures, running alongside me at a distance, keeping pace.

Up ahead, three more figures closed in . . . continuing to run only brought them closer.

I stopped and stood there, panting to catch my breath while half a dozen figures or more closed in on me, surrounding me. The gap between them was growing smaller and smaller. Seeing that caused me to make a last attempt at getting away, I made a mad dash at one of the opening between the shadowy figures and they adjusted their course to intercept me long before I was anywhere near escaping.

Two impossibly strong sets of arms seized me from both sides while another figure grabbed me from behind and clamped a heavily calloused hand over my mouth. The three figures in front of me continued to approach, slowing their pace now that I'd been restrained. I was forced to my knees.

Three figures stood before me, it was only then that I realized that the shadowy figure in the middle was decidedly shorter, thinner, and curvier than the larger figures. A female. In the dream, I knew it was Kristen even before she spoke. "What are you doing out here?"

My eyes snapped open and I was back in my bed with the pre-dawn light poking through the gaps in my blinds as they fluttered under the breeze of the ceiling fan, but I wasn't alone.

Laying on my side, I could feel Kristen's heat beneath the covers as she spooned me from behind. Her hand was on my hip and her fingers were playing with the little bow on my panties. When she realized I was awake she ground her hips into me and I felt the tip of her gift poking between my pantied ass cheeks. "Good morning," she whispered. "You were dreaming . . . "

I nodded, rotating my hips slightly back into the toy poking me.

"What were you dreaming about?"

I whispered back, "The cemetery."

"Ooooo," she purred. "Was I in it?"

I nodded, "Yes, Miss Kristen. You and a bunch of really big men."

"Hmmm," she said, teasing my belly just above the panty-line with the tips of her fingers. "Was I fucking you?" she asked, prodding me with the tip of her strap-on to accentuate the word 'fucking'.

"No," I whispered back, "but you were definitely in charge. I think I was about to be gang-fucked."

"Mmmm, I think I'd like to see that." Her hand caressed my ass briefly before slowly yanking my panties off to one side. She began to probe me slowly as she reached down the front of my panties and began stroking the tip of my cock for pre-cum to use as lube. "Are you going to be a good boy and let me inside of you?"

I almost came.

I think that might have been the whole point because I suddenly went rock hard and she used the result to lube the strap-on before pressing it against my defenseless hole.

She pressed a little harder and whispered into my ear, "Let me in."

The tip of her cock slipped inside of me and I let out a little yelp. She gently shushed me and stroked my cheek soothingly. "Shhh, it's okay. Just relax . . ."

She pushed into me another inch, spreading me wider, the tip of her cock penetrating deeper.

My jaw dropped open wide but no sound came out as she continued to press into me. "It's okay," she said again, "that's a good boy, let me in."

I took one last deep breath and tried to will my body into relaxing even though I knew it was going to hurt, and felt her slide into me, inch after impossible inch until our bodies were pressed tightly together, and her strap-on was quite literally balls deep inside of me. But it wasn't just a toy, not any longer . . . it was an extension of her. Kristen was inside of me.

She rolled us both over till I was face-down in the mattress, used her feet to push my legs apart and then pulled me up onto my knees and elbows, yanking my hair back until I was looking at her in the reflection of the mirror on the wall at the head of my bed. Our eyes were locked together as she grabbed my hips with both hands and began to fuck me . . . long, slow, and hard.

"Good boy," she moaned breathlessly, biting her lower lip as she pounded away at my masculinity like a jackhammer until there was nothing left.

Kristen fucked me that morning for what must have been two hours and four orgasms . . . one for me, three for her. I was never able to fantasize about fucking her after that morning, as I could not even think of her without remembering how she'd opened me up and stretched me to the point where the nearly nine inches inside of me felt small.

It's been six months now, and I can't think of a single day that I haven't returned home from work or the store without checking both doors for another little pink gift bag. We see each other from time to time in passing, her leaving while I'm arriving or vice-versa . . . a few times I've even bumped into Mason at the communal mailbox, but we never so much as made eye contact.

Kristen isn't finished with me, I know that as sure as I know my own name . . . one day there'll be another gift bag and another note, it's only a matter of time. All I can do is wait, and wonder, and imagine what she'll want me to do.

I'm waiting.

THE END