You’re going to go down on me now.
Yes I am.
Then I am going to spank you again, just like I did now.
Yes you are.
Normally, something as brazenly open as that instruction to suck Mister would have me in an essentially reactionary, insulted mood. If it had been in any other bedroom situation (or living room, kitchen, bathroom…) if these were the first words he had spoken to me I would have been a little mad.
Not this night. He prepared me well for his well-chosen words.
As I alluded to in my last post, my slinkiness caused by a good shape-up in the shower at the weekend left me in über sex-kitten mode. I love feeling so smooth around my nether regions, extremely strokable – both enjoyable for myself and especially so for Mister. He says I feel particularly soft and velvety after I have shaved my pussy ever-so-delicately.
I had spent most of the day prancing about with a spring in my step, did my duty and behaved myself at his parents’ place, made small talk as he (somewhat rudely) went and watched the football on the TV. I have learned to develop this skill, useful for work and for home as I find. When we eventually trekked our way home on the forty-minute journey from his parents by the coast in the sticks to our home in the relative civilisation of our town, I had formulated a mini-scheme for the rest of the evening that we had to ourselves. It was fairly simple – Give Mister a massage; reap his rewards.
In some weird way, giving Mister a back-rub turns me on beautifully. I think it might have something to do with the fact I spend a good half hour staring at his naked body. I suppose it’s supposed to have that reaction. And I adore touching him. My fingertips are fairly sensitive, and if I get the pressure just right, the tingles from those tips will send mischievous shivers down my spine to my sensual core.
Usually, when I massage him, my mind will play in one switching mood or the other. Clawing, spanking and biting from my elevated position astride him, or the subservient lady pandering to his every whim kneeling just to the side of him as I rub. That night it was the latter. He appreciated this greatly. I like to be of service to him.
After I had eased out any niggles in his muscles around his shoulders and lower back, like the dutiful girl I am – putting his needs before my own – I moved on to a more amorous approach. Hands moving up into his hairline, fingers lightly grazing his scalp and catching the stray strands playfully. Lowering ever further, over his arse (ass/bum/bottom/backside/buttocks – I never can figure out a word to use that I find descriptively alluring!) and then down onto his thighs. Stroking on the inside of his legs, tracing upwards to play with his cleft and perineum. Done well, it puts him in such a gorgeous mood, all heavy limbed and heavy eyelids. Purring in his own, tigerish way. Soft noises now and then, deep and stirring into the fabric of the bed.
Once I had had my fill of this, I gently nudged up next to him, laying there with him to bring him out of his reverie. Eyes opened with a smiling glance and he gave me one of those deep, full-bodied kisses. Strong and meaningful. My head swam instantly. All at once he had moved and rolled me under him, arms placed either side of my shoulders, staring hard into my eyes. It was a look of absolute directness. It floored me; so intense, I couldn’t help but feel myself shrinking under that gaze, my shoulders hunching slightly as my toes curled and hands twitched. That grin, the grin of wickedness was plastered all over his face. The sideways smile, the glint was in his eyes.
Breaking the gaze, he took one look at my naked body before all but pouncing with his mouth on my breasts. Taking one nipple between his fingers as the other was being given the full attention of his mouth, kisses, sucks, licks and nibbles. No wonder I was lost. With all of that going on all thoughts of anything but the sensations I was undergoing went out of my mind. My sex was coursing with anticipation, wishing for his hand to draw near. He didn’t disappoint, naturally.
His fingers were met with such slickness - the massage had done its job of arousing me and what with his melting stares and kisses, I was well away for him and coming within a short amount of time with very little else apart from him simply ‘holding’ my pussy, the base of his palm pressed on my clit with the tips of his fingers teasingly poised at my entrance and applying a light amount of pressure. The first one or two orgasms he made me almost trip over, they were so quick and intense, the release after the prolonged build up with his back-rub eased out any remaining tensions.
Again it was his chance to roll me around. His own ragdoll to maul. I now found myself face down, my behind exposed to him. Every fibre of me knew what he intended. Within seconds the first strike hit home. As expected, the sharp but quick and light initial spank eliciting the swift gasp of excitement from me. I twisted my head with hair flayed over my eyes to stare at him. Smiling. The exchange of glances, all we need to understand he has full reign over me now. My head slowly lowered and I braced my hands level with my shoulders, ready to clamp down on the sheets. The next spank was indeed harder. His hand lingered longer on my skin, more of a thwack than the flick of the last one. He gave me a number of similarly gauged spanks, each one lingering. Once or twice fingers trailed below to dip into my wetness. All the time my moans were taking over me. Again my head swam with pleasure, total focus on the sensations, his movements, him, me. Breathing interrupted with gasps as he gave a quick flurry of strikes before sensing my limit and backing down. Regaining my heavy breathing just in time for his next batch. Sheets crumpled between fingers, biting down on them between my teeth. Eyes screwed up at each hit before relaxing back into that look of utter bliss and calm I feel during this. White noise.
A moment of blankness came across me – he had paused. Grasping a wrist and easing my hips around to face him – sitting up as I found myself, I needed his support after the head rush. My arms draped around his neck, hands hung limp over his shoulders. Now he chose to speak.
You’re going to go down on me now. Those glassy blue eyes so crystal clear.
Yes I am. I spoke, understandably, somewhat breathlessly now. I was locked into place by his look.
Then I am going to spank you again, just like I did now. He spoke with a directness I don’t usually hear from him. Unquestionable authority.
There was no other answer than: Yes you are.
No other words were needed.