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Posted by katemarmite
on Mon 17 May 10, 9:34 PM to the The_Porn_Blog group.
My Mum has often said my mouth gets me into trouble. That I speak first and think afterwards and that ultimately that gets me into sticky situations. Lying across his lap I think she may be right, although I'm fairly sure the stickiness she was referring to wasn't as literal as that concerning me right now.
At least I bloody hope not.
The room is silent and still. Bearing in mind everything he's said in the last ten minutes has made me either what to kick him in the shins or throw him out of my house, you'd think I would find this a good thing. But oddly I don't and it's not. His hand is stroking the curve of my arse and as I lie across his lap, blood rushing to my head, my hair brushing the floor at his feet and my sore nipples pressed into the fabric of his trousers, part of me wants to say 'for fuck's sake, stop stringing this out!' while part of me wants to lie here indefinitely pretending the waiting, the tension, isn't bothering me in the least.
As his fingers stroke the soft skin where my arse meets the top of my thigh my legs wobble a little and I swear I hear him snicker. So much for not letting on how much this is bothering me. Dammit.
It has been inevitable that I would find myself stretched across his lap this way from the first moment we met. Actually, even before that. I've wondered about it. Wanked over the thought of it. We've talked about it - which is where we come back to me getting myself in trouble. Our every conversation has been gearing towards this moment and now it's here I have butterflies in my stomach, aching breasts and a wet cunt.
Stripping naked in front of him was challenging. Not because I'm especially precious about being naked but because slowly taking my clothes off while he sat watching intently from my sofa made my hands shake a little. Watching his face as I undid my bra and bared my breasts to his gaze, seeing him smile, his eyes narrow, clearly thinking of things to do with me, things I wouldn't think of in my wildest dreams, made me nervous and aroused in equal measure. I felt all the more vulnerable in my nakedness because he sat in front of me still clothed. Although, in hindsight, giving him a pile of things I've written which to someone observant may as well be titled 'Kate: A User's Guide' may not have helped much with the vulnerability. And he's definitely observant. Shit. I think of the things we've discussed already, and heat blooms on my cheeks. I bow my head a little, so my long hair hides the worst of my embarrassment. My discomfort.
Suddenly he's moving. As he gets closer it takes all my self control to stand still, to see what will happen now, let this play out. And then he touches my jaw, stroking a line down my face, and the movement is soothing and tender and for a second all I want to do is lean into him, to press my nakedness against him, to curl up against his warmth, enjoy the smell of his aftershave. Of him. I close my eyes, to savour the moment. To take comfort from it. Strength. Strength it turns out I'll need two seconds later when he speaks.
"So you're willing to do whatever I say, no matter what? You'll let me treat you like my own personal fuck toy?"
My eyes fly open and I look at him for a second. His eyes are filled with challenge. Arousal. Obvious and irritating amusement. I fight for control, look past him to gather my wits, but he's not letting me get away with that, his hand on my chin pulling me back to his gaze - which I'm fast discovering sees far too bloody much. For long seconds we just look at each other. I see how he's using the silence. I use it the same way at work all the time with problem interviewees. If you leave silence it's human nature for people to feel uncomfortable, to try and fill it. But even while I know what he's doing as he looks at me, his hand tight on my jaw, I can't stop myself succumbing, although I have to swallow past a lump in my throat before I can admit what we both know is inevitable. Fucking 'fuck toy'? For fuck's sake. Even as I agree to let him use me that way I feel a surge of fury at him. At myself.
"Yes."
"And you'll enjoy that?” He's pushing his luck now, and he knows it. But his smile shows he's secure in my submission, sees it as inevitable, and somehow that makes it easier for me to respond a second time - although I'm sticking with short answers for now. I close my eyes as I answer though, my one word response almost a sigh.
"Yes."
He calls me a good girl, and my cunt clenches at the endearment in spite of myself. And then he moves behind me and suddenly his hands are on my breasts. He's exploring me, his hands running assuredly across my skin, weighing my breasts - swollen with arousal - in his hands, stroking the nipples, running meandering fingers along the underside. I lean back into him, enjoying his ministrations, which makes his voice, whispering in my ear, even more jarring with what he asks me next, with what it does to the butterflies in the pit of my stomach.
“Do you like pain?”
We both know the answer. And I know why it's important to him that I say it, but for a short moment my brain freezes. My internal conflict is broken, ironically enough, by him tweaking my nipple hard enough to make me cry out softly, although the complementary zing of arousal it brings proves his point better than he will ever know.
I can answer this. It's a simple question. Just go for it and things'll move on. It's ok. "Yes."
“And do you want me to hurt you?” Oh he's taking the piss now. I feel a surge of fury and wonder briefly if I should be writing some kind of letter of invitation. For goodness' sake. My jaw is clenched with fury and embarrassment as I answer, and I can feel my collarbone reddening.
"Yes."
The cadence of his voice is amused but firm when he replies. "Yes, what?"
For the second time in as many minutes, my brain seizes up. Is he expecting me to call him Sir? Master even? Fat bloody chance. I stiffen even with his hands on my breasts. And then I realise what he means. Or what I hope he means. Although frankly it's bad enough for the first time you play with someone. Even as the surge of rebellion in my mind rises I hear myself speaking as if from far away. "Yes, please."
And then he starts to move his hands and I'm lost.
I don't know how long we stand there, his hands pulling, tugging, pinching and tweaking. My breasts swell and my nipples harden as he plays with me, although 'playing' isn't really the word - unless you count the game where I am trying stubbornly, desperately not to show how much it hurts, not to cry out, while he does everything in his power to ensure whimpers and moans escape unbidden from the back of my throat. I am breathing deeply, inadvertently pushing my breasts further into his hands with every desperate lungful of air I take, trying to process the pain, to withstand it. The tickle of his breath at my ear makes me shiver a little and he speaks again. “Do you like this?”
I can't stop my answer, there's no hiding from it, and somehow I feel he has urged my submission from me, I don't want to argue, although frankly my musk is fragrant enough in the room that I think he's fairly aware of how much I'm enjoying the torment he's wringing from my body without me opening my mouth. "Yes."
“Well then say thank you.”
I harrumph quietly to myself - is this what it's going to be like? As fast as he pushes me to do things, admit things, and I do so, he'll be pushing me further to do more, admit more? That said, his hands on my breasts are making me whimper in a way which is at least part pleasure. And politeness doesn't cost anything. I'll just ignore the mocking tone.
"Thank you."
As he moves away from me I feel a pang of grief - so much for politeness. Where's he going? And then he tells me to lie across his lap and I know.
I settle myself carefully, trying to lie in a way that minimises the friction of the fabric of his trousers against my by-now red nipples and avoids me pressing my wet cunt into his thigh in a way that would make him wet with my juice.
As the silence lengthens my mind is whirling. I've been thinking about what this would be like for weeks. I've snuck glances at his hands. Pondered his upper body strength. Wondered if in hindsight making that comment about whether he'd be capable of spanking me hard would come back to (literally) bite me on the arse. After so much deliberation I am about to find out. Well I would be if he'd bloody get on with it.
As the minutes pass I can't suppress a whimper of frustration and he chuckles, stroking the curve of my arse. Seemingly happy to sit here for ages with my arse in the air in front of him, in the end I crack first, my voice sounding desperate even to my own ears.
"Please."
"Please what?"
I stare intently at his shoe while words that even twenty minutes ago seemed impossible flow freely from my mouth. "Please hurt me. Spank me. Hard. Please."
I know I sound like I'm begging but at this instant I don't care. When I look back on this I might, but for now the waiting is too much and I just can't wait any longer. Thankfully I don't have to. His hand connects and as the air wooshes from my lungs and the throbbing pain of the impact of the blow begins to warm my pale skin I think I have seriously underestimated him. And he's about to take it out on my already-squirming arse.
Edited Tue 18 May 10, 6:32 PM by katemarmite
| 18 May 10, 3:48 PM Cinnamon_Tart UK(S), 8 yrs  |
Lovely. You capture that first play anxiety, awareness, game, interaction really, really well. I also identify with the dichotomy of that mindset: so turned on and keen and ready....and yet the reticence to admit or express it. That gulf between what you know has been said between you up to that point, and the reality of the first session. Sounds like a brilliant meeting; just the sort of thing i like.
Wonderful read; thank you.
Apparently I'm starting to sound senile. Please read all posts with this in mind. Ovaltine, anyone? | |
| 9 Jun 10, 12:35 PM Filth_Wizard UK(RM), 8 yrs |
Wholly delicious. A beautiful, sometimes overlooked, aspect of sadism. To deny it implies that it's wrong. | |
| 9 Jun 10, 9:24 PM reprobate UK(N), 2 yrs |
As above - a very agreeable read. And certainly something I could identify with. Thanks for sharing | |
| 13 Jul 10, 7:04 PM guinevere888 UK(TN), 2 yrs |
Really great to read , I'm having a first meet tomoro. And know this is how I'll feel . Butterflies and longings just now . Hurry up tomoro. | |
| 13 Jul 10, 7:13 PM Crystal_Eyes UK, 5 yrs   |
Beautiful. An angry submissive - who'd've thunk it?! x ------------------------------------------ | |
| 14 Jul 10, 8:34 PM katemarmite 2 yrs |
Filled with rage, that's me Thanks for the kind words everyone, and guinevere888 good luck with your first meeting! | |
| 17 Jul 10, 9:20 PM Daddisliloutlaw UK(M), 3 yrs |
A-Mazing :D Punch drunk, braindead, down on the floor, back on my knees you got me beggin' for more | |
| 19 Jul 10, 11:04 AM littlebarnes UK, 2 yrs |
Hi wow your like me I need some advice on a meet . I am new and really don't know who to trust . Is it right for a domto demand sex on first meet? X | |
| 19 Jul 10, 1:18 PM MarcusStrapp UK(CB), 7 yrs |
Enjoyable read. The excitement comes from the conflict and tension of those internal thoughts and feelings. I can remember (from long long ago), my jaw dropping when I discovered for the first time that a young lady might actually want to be on the submissive side of the equation. I had assumed until that point that such a notion was just the product of male fantasy, the fictional content of top shelf magazine stuff. The rest, as they say, is history. Regards -- Marcus Strapp The @Fetish_Photo_Album A free and private flickr group for IC members to share dirty pictures! | |
| 21 Jul 10, 1:55 AM rosarose UK(SG), 3 yrs |
Lovely, thank you |
