tagLesbian SexYou Can Always Do Better

You Can Always Do Better

byNevada41©

I hear her footfalls approaching before I see her enter the room, her heels clicking on the hardwood floor. I am sitting on the bed, atop the comforter, my legs extended, my feet crossed at the ankles. Upon hearing her, I set my book down on the nightstand next to the bed, anxious for her arrival.

The fiery redhead steps through the doorway, her aura of confidence preceding her. Her white blouse is tight on her torso, perhaps one button too many undone, accompanied by a slim black pencil skirt, long smooth legs, and black, medium heels that reflected the light on the ceiling fan above us. Elegant, beautiful, professional, her moderately freckled cleavage difficult to ignore, her red lipstick still morning-fresh. She pauses and looks at me, dressed just the opposite to her—a black tank top, no bra, running shorts and bare feet. My glasses rest on the bridge of my nose as I peer at her, taking the complete package in.

She approaches me, ultimately standing at the edge of the bed, looking down her nose at me, a slight shaking of her head in disappointment. She beckons me closer with a simple "come hither" motion of her index finger, and I happily oblige, leaning forward and crawling towards her slowly.

She cups my chin in her hand and gives me a light slap on my cheek, startling me more than anything.

"What have I told you about just lying around all day?" she asks, pursing her lips slightly.

I frown. "I'm sorry. I just haven't felt very motivated today. Plus it's my day off."

She shifts her weight from side to side, moving her hand from my chin to run her fingers through my curly brown hair. "Poor thing," she said, "struggling to do anything. Being lazy." She grabs my hair suddenly and tugs, just hard enough to make me wince just a little. "Maybe you need to learn how to discipline yourself a little."

I nod at her, meeting her stern gaze momentarily before breaking contact, not really knowing a better way to respond to her.

"Go fix me a drink. You know what I like," is all she says to me. I get up, wipe the wrinkles off my clothes, and saunter off to the kitchen. I pull a glass from the cupboard, add two ice cubes from the freezer, and grab the tequila—top shelf, straight—before pouring her two fingers worth and returning to the bedroom.

She waits for me there, sitting in the soft chair in the corner of the room, her legs crossed, one foot bobbing up and down impatiently. I hand her the glass which she holds near her nose, taking in the aroma of the liquor before enjoying a moderate sip.

"It's good. Well done," she coos. I smile silently in response.

"Cat got your tongue? You're awfully quiet this afternoon."

"Thank you," I quickly correct, remembering my place.

"Better," she says. "Now kneel next to me."

I oblige, slowly dropping to my knees. She reaches out, her hand behind the back of my head, and pushes my head onto her thigh, indicating to me she wants me there. She strokes my hair again, gently, affectionately.

"You've been a good girl today?" I nod.

"Staying out of trouble?" I nod again.

"Hmmm," she says, a hint of mischief on her voice. "Perhaps we can do something about that. Head up."

I lift my cheek off her leg, looking at her again, curious what she has in mind. She turns around, her back to me. "Unzip me."

Reaching for the top of her skirt, I tug on the zipper, slowly pulling it down, loosening the fabric from around her hips. She wriggles her pelvis a little, her hands assisting, pushing the skirt down to the floor and stepping out of it. I knew something was instantly amiss when I see the nylon strap around her waist and circling her butt, tucked under her curves. She slowly turns around, revealing a soft, silicone cock, thick and veiny, dangling between her legs. My eyes widened in both surprise and curiosity.

I started. "h-how did you... Have you been wearing this all d-"

"Hush," she interrupts. "Don't say a fucking word." She takes my face in her hand, squeezing my cheeks firmly. She was in charge. With her free hand, she takes the toy in her hand, wrapping her fingers around it, its thickness almost preventing her from circling its entire circumference. She strokes it slowly, waved it slightly, before bringing my face closer to it.

She then smacks my cheek with the heavy toy, then again, before giving the same attention to the other. Not hard enough to leave a mark, but firm enough for me to know what was happening. I gasp at her aggression, half in surprise, half in pleasure, looking up into her eyes as she flogged me with her girldick. She then pauses, her toy still in front of me. I know what she wants. I want it too.

I reach up, taking hold of her, and run my tongue along the underside of the toy, a slow lick, coating it with my saliva, feeling its contours on my skin. I kiss the bulbous knob gently, then again, flicking my tongue over the smooth surface, before licking the top, from tip to step, her curls tickling my nose. She watches me fellate her, a curious look on her face, her mouth curling in a satisfied smile.

Her hand touches my face again, incredibly gentle, caressing me as I served her, my hand stroking her as I lick, kiss, enjoy, moaning as I pleasure her. Her hand trace my jawline, her touch still delicate, fingers continuing south along the front of my neck. She then grasps me, tightly, shifting her hips, pulling them back, the toy suddenly out of my reach.

"Open!" is all that she says, and I comply, opening my mouth, knowing what is to come.

She takes my head in both of her hands, grasping and pulling on my hair, pushing her hips forward, burying her girlmeat in my mouth, not being gentle about it. I gag almost instantaneously and then regain control, relaxing and opening my throat, feeling the toy's thickness fill me, pushing deep. The cry in my throat is stifled by her invasion, but I want it, I need it, that feeling.

She is relentless, forceful, pushing my head into her, meeting each push with a thrust of her own, all the way down, before pulling nearly entirely out of me, giving me just enough time to catch my breath. She thrusts again and holds it, sending me to the edge, my mouth filled with her, nowhere to escape. I start to see stars as my air supply lingers, my pussy tingling, near release. She then withdraws quickly and I gasp for air, a thick drool dribbling down my chin, still connected to her toy, and I cum—hard, intense, wet, creating an expanding dark circle on the bedspread under me.

I'm still gasping for air as she looks at me contemplatively. I feel tears running down my cheeks from her testing my limits. I kneel in front of her limply, my release draining me. She takes my chin, leading me to the bed, putting me face down, my feet still on the floor. Reaching into her nightstand drawer, she produces a large metal plug, a pretty pink jewel decorating the end. Reaching around me, she places the plug in my mouth.

"Get it nice and wet. Or it might sting a little."

I try to coat the plug with my spit as best as I can as she uses her own to lubricate me with her fingers, her tips slipping inside, moistening my muscle. She pulls the plug from my mouth and rests the narrow tip at my entrance, teasing me a bit, circling, before gently pushing into me. I relax as best as I can, taking deep breaths as I feel the cool metal stretch me, my body resisting it, fighting it, on the precipice between delicious pain and pleasure. Finally the widest part passes in, and my ring quickly, tightly clamps on the narrow stem. I inhale audibly as my body tingles and quivers, the heavy weight of the plug letting me know it is fully in.

She slaps my ass, urging me to turn over on my back, which I do. She slowly unbuckles her harness, letting it and the accompanying dildo fall to the floor with an audible thud.

"Now," she says. "You're going to please me," kicking off her shoes. She crawls over me, straddling my waist, kissing my lips lightly before moving onward, until her legs straddle my head, her knees pinning down my arms with her weight. Her sex hovers inches above my face, too far to reach. Her eyes remain fixed on mine. "Reach for it," she purrs. "Show me how much you want it."

I lift my head, trying to taste her, but as I get close, she pulls away. "Further," she commands, but I can't. I'm at my limit, given the restraint.

She slaps my face again, disappointed in my failure. "Not good enough."

And with that, she pushes her hips hard onto my face, smothering me in her sex. She grinds hard, gyrating her hips, coating me with her dew. She grabs my hair, pulling my head into her sex, which I eat and taste with abandon. She slides her entire opening over my face and mouth, pushing her hips forward, looking down at me as my tongue and lips try to find purchase. It's clear that she is not worried about me being able to catch a breath. She slides further forward, and my tongue dances on her perineum, enjoying the smooth skin there, before finding her star, which I taste, tongue and lick with equal energy. I'm lost in her sex. The smell, the taste, the aura of it overpowers me. I want to do nothing but please her, to urge from her that release that tells me she's sated.

She pushes her full weight back on my face, fucking it recklessly. I feel my own opening tremble and I cum again, my cry muffled in her folds. She's moaning, gasping. I feel her body quiver, her thighs and legs twitch, and then she passes the point of no return, splashing me with a gush of nectar that I have very little choice but to accept as I feel the spurt directly enter my mouth, her sex clamped down tightly on me. She then lifts her hips, sending a second gush drenching my face and neck, collecting in the depressions at my throat and above my collarbones. Her explosion subsides and she stays there, motionless, for what feels like an eternity. I try to comfort her, kissing her slippery lips gently, feeling droplets rolling down my face and collecting on the bed below me.

She slides down my body again, clearly spent. She looks at me and silently rises, reaching again into her nightstand, producing a set of cuffs. She motions for me to raise my arms above my head, and still panting, she restrains my wrists, attaching them to the bedpost. Finally, my lover and mistress, cradles my head in her hand, looking directly at me, delight and compassion in her eyes.

"Good girl, good girl. Now I want you to think about this for a while. Because I know you can do better."

She gives my face a hard shove and walks away, leaving me exhausted and wet, yet fulfilled.

###

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