“Excellent. Now. Suck my cock. And once you’ve finished me off, I’ll give you your orgasm. But only if you’re a good girl. No touching yourself, Sunny…” He’s so serious, so intense. I’mhanging on every word. “If you touch yourself…” He raises the ruler. “You get this. Got it?”
“Yes, sir.”
With that, he rolls his chair close and sits in it, a king on his throne.
It’s the most apt description, given that he is all I can see, feel, hear, smell. He’s the ground under my feet, the ache in my thighs. He’s the tightness at my scalp; he’s the clenching at my core. He’s every fantasy I’ve ever had, and the satisfaction is guaranteed.
When he manspreads in that chair, erection proudly framed by his pants, there is not a bone in my body that doesn’t crave him like water. Like the last molecule of air in the world.
The man saysdown, and I drop to my knees like they’re not sore from the hardwood. Like the pain isn’t something I’ll carry with me for days. For the rest of my life.
There’s a before this moment, and there’s an after, and I know I can’t go back. There was sex pre-Grant. And now there’s this, and I am screwed for everything else.
The worst part is that I. Do. Not. Care.
I let him pull me forward by the hair, and I lick him like a lollipop.
He’s not just the perfect weight of this cock, the perfect fit in my mouth; he’s the very best smell, an ambrosia taste too rich to be real. His shape, his sound, this feeling. God, the feeling. I’m squirming, my thighs shifting in an attempt to eke out the tiniest bit of friction. Anything to alleviate this ache between my legs.
I know as soon as he pulls me off him that I’ve been caught.
“Sunny.” His voice resonates. “Are you trying to come?”
Uh-oh. My pulse is loud in my ears. Finally, I nod.
“You are aware of the consequences?”
When I nod this time, I’m filled with a bright, hedonistic glee.
“Tell me.”
“The ruler. Sir.” I have to work to hide my grin.
“Not much of a punishment if you want it, Sunny.” Another sigh. “What’s under the skirt?”
“Tights. Um, panties.” I’m breathing hard. “Sir.”
It takes him a minute to gather up my skirt and pull my tights and underwear down. I shut my eyes hard as he gives my bottom half a good, long look, and when I finally open them, he’s staring blandly at my face. Only there’s nothing bland about the pink cast to his cheeks or the quick rise and fall of his chest.
He rolls on a condom and pats his knee. I try to figure out the best angle of approach and let him guide me face down across his legs, until I’m ass up on his lap. Ready for my punishment.
How surreal is this?
A giggle tries to work its way up and out of my mouth, but I keep it in. And wait, stretched here on his lap with his cock against my belly, his hand on my ass, and the other below me, playing with one pinched, aching nipple.
This is exactly where I’m meant to be. Here. Now. It feels like fate. Like the end of my sexual rainbow.
Subspace. The word flits through my mind at the exact moment the ruler lands on my ass, and my entire body flinches. Seconds later, his hand soothes. I sink into him again. Give him my weight, my trust. I am submerged.
“There it is.”
That hand fondling my breasts sends shards of pleasure to my pussy, so sharp I think I’ll scream.
“Good. Just a few more.”
I nod. Agreement, acquiescence, consent, a demand. Call it what you want, I am fully on board.
“Good,” he mutters right before slapping my ass again with a piece of plastic that has no earthly business feeling this good. Sharp and angry for a split second before the pain washes into pleasure sowide and deep that my extremities fizz with it when the next smack lands. And the next. And the next. And all the while, he’s telling me how pretty my ass is in pink like this. My dimples and curves. How gorgeous I am when I moan. How my pussy’s begging for his cock, and I’ll get it. But only when he’s done. When he’s ready.
