A/N Something new from me so don't be alarmed people. A little girl on girl action to change things up a little.
This story means a lot to me and I hope you all enjoy reading it as much as I did bringing it to completion.
First I want to thank my friend and fellow author Prassacut for her awesome pre-reading skills and encouraging me to write it in the first place.
Second I want to be ever thankful to my amazing Beta Deβra Ann without her expertise I would be unreadable, and seriously I do put the woman though a lot its a wonder she still lets me use her name when I post, these stories are so out of her league and genre but I hope she knows I will be forever grateful.
With that in mind and an open heart I hope you all enjoy.
My breath nervously hiccups in my throat as I struggle to swallow the hard lump lodged in the back of it. My watery eyes grow wide, and I can literally feel my pupils dilate and sting as I eagerly watch when she repeats herself in my chat window. 'Why would she torment you by repeating herself?' I hear you ask. Cause stupid masochistic me has asked her to do so, that's why.
I really should know better; you'd think by now I'd just leave well enough alone. You'd think, after all this time, I'd have learned to just quit while I'm ahead. But no! Not me! No, never! But can I? Nope! Definitely not this time. Cause for some reason, unbeknownst to me, she feels the need to continue, and finally be heard. That thought causes me to chuckle darkly to myself. Cause seriously, who the fuck am I kidding? I've done nothing but encourage this; I've done nothing but egg this situation on. In truth, I've been mind fucking her devilishly, toying with her thoughts and imagination for the past few weeks. I've done my utmost to push her over the edge, trying to get her to the point of no return, and then blatantly providing her with no release in sight. And in my own sick, sadistic way, I've been praying to all that will listen, that it will finally lead us to this point. So really I'd have to call bullshit on my very own 'unbeknownst to me' comment.
The dinging sound the chat makes echoes in my ears, the vibrations causing them to hum as the words like neon lights shine off the screen. My body starts to tremble, while my nervous foot taps the floor beneath my desk without rhyme or reason. I feel the life drain painstakingly from me when my computer balls - yeah, the ones I've supposedly had all week - finally abandon me and wear the hell off.
I wipe my brow as the tiny beads of sweat dance jeeringly underneath my hairline, and I swear to myself if I stare hard enough at the little black letters, they'll start blinking, or better yet, dancing. "Yeah! Thats it, they'll dance for me." If I look at the fuckers long enough, that is. The bastards mock me. They're taunting me. And still, after all this time, after all these months, I find myself unable to move, unable to quickly answer one simple sentence. All my sorry ass can seemingly do at this crucial moment is just sit here and stare like a deer in headlights at the God forsaken computer screen.
I've known Sam forever, so this shouldn't be hard. It's been a few years now, so it should be nothing but easy. But seriously, I feel like I've known her my whole life, and deep in my soul, I know that she trusts me, so really I should have no fears or concerns at this moment.
The comment itself should be nothing of a surprise; the sentence should affect me in no way whatsoever. But still, even after all this time, after all our shared moments and our deep conversations, I find my throat still closes and my mouth continues to run dry when the subject is brought up.
Leaning my elbows on my desk, I run my shaky fingers through my now-damp hair, as I eagerly suck in some well needed air, thanking anything that would listen, that she can't see the anxious, nervous look on my face right now, as I try desperately to stop my head from spinning and myself from falling off the God damn chair.
I stare once more at the screen, my blurry vision making it difficult to see the neon words written. But honestly, I don't need to see them to read them. We've had this conversation before, many a time, in depth. The letters are tattooed on my brain, the declaration scorched onto my retinas, and all it is - all it's supposed to be - is just one simple request.
I sip on my morning coffee, doing my utmost to regain what little self-control I have left, as I let my weary eyes gaze uneasily at my computer screen. "I feel a need to be controlled sexually," she types. Yep! That's easy, just one simple request. 'Well fuck no! It's not!' Cause if you really knew her - or me, for that matter - you'd know how much that statement could never, and will never, be just one simple request.
I let my sweaty fingers shakily hover over the keyboard as I will the tips of them to do my evil bidding. I watch uneasily as my reply emerges across the tiny little chat box, now sealing our destiny, cementing our fate with my own little blinking neon letters. "I'm in!"
She was quick to respond - eager to question - which somewhat surprises me. "Seriously, babe!?"
Breathing deep, sucking well needed oxygen into my lungs, straightening myself, I reply with as much cockiness as I can muster, "Yes! Seriously! I'll take care of you. Don't worry, I'll take care of everything. I'll need some time though, and I'll get back to you with the details."
Quickly closing out the chat box, clasping my shaky fingers tightly behind my head, I lean back heavily in my chair, letting my eyes flutter closed and my mind wander to how this all got the fuck started, mentally dissecting our friendship, trying to figure out how and why I've let it get this far.
I've worked with Sam for a few years now. From the day she walked into my office, there has been an instant connection, and we easily became close friends. The fact that she was a butch lesbian intrigued and fascinated me to no end. No! She was not the first ever lesbian I'd come across, and definitely not the first butch. But Sam was different somehow, unique in her own right. She owned this, from her well manicured cut gelled hair to her seemingly tailor-made, put any fashionable gay boy to shame attire. She owned the right to be called butch. The fact that she carried herself well and with dignity, in a way only one would, granting them respect without ever having to be coy and demanding, was such a complete and utter turn-on for me.
So as our friendship grew, our bond became closer, and it didn't take long for us to become just that little bit more than friends. Cause you see, before Sam - like way before, in my younger years - I had played for a while at being lesbian. It's a long story, and I won't bore you with the melodramatic details. But in the end, it didn't work out. And if you must know, it was tragic and drama-filled, the sort of thing books are written about and sick puppy love movies are made around. But no, seriously, we were young and stupid, and in the end, it just didn't work out. So connecting with Sam and finding the place I once belonged felt like home again.
We'd spend hours talking about everything under the sun, I think at one point we abolished world hunger and accomplished world peace. There was never a subject unapproachable or a boundary uncrossable, we had covered it all at one point or another. But there was one matter that had always made me just that little bit uneasy, one theme that I would find it hard to linger on for too long, and the worst of it was - it just happened to be something that had Sam totally intrigued and always curious, that being the workings of a Dominant and submissive relationship.
Don't get me wrong, a prude I am not, truthfully, the word doesn't even belong in my vocabulary. The fact of the matter is, it was just something I'd never really been interested in. But Sam was always captivated - downright infatuated - by its allure. She longed to be dominated, and for just a little while, surrender some of the masculine responsibilities that at times come with being a butch. And with me being the only person she confided this deepest darkest secret to, in my eyes that appointed me the only candidate equipped to fulfil this fantasy for her. So a few weeks prior to this morning's chat window conversation, I'd already made up my mind to step up to the challenge, try and climb out of my own comfort zone, and satisfy this craving.
With task in hand, I hit the ground running, and it didn't take me long to acquire the advice I needed. I quickly set to work researching the information I so desperately yearned, and diligently did my homework. Because I, for one, wasn't taking this lightly. I, for one, knew how important this was to her, and I'd be damned if I failed. I'd be damned if I let her down. I really wanted to make it memorable - something she would never forget. I anxiously needed to fulfil this dream. Don't get me wrong, the sex part didn't worry or concern me, it's the fact that I had to find the strength to control her mind and keep her in the moment. But what came with all this need, want and desperation was a huge responsibility and a mission I wasn't about to take lightly or wish to do half-assed. So Google - and thankfully some very accommodating friends - came to my rescue and helped me achieve my goal.
Over the next few days, Sam and I had stolen moments and hushed conversations about what she was expecting or how far she was actually willing to go. I watched in fascination as her butch facade started to falter, crumbling slightly around the edges, only to be replaced with excited nerves and anticipation - and at times, a little worry and a lot of concern. Something you need to understand about Sam is her inability to let someone have control over any given situation. The woman is headstrong, and at times, you could possibly say bull-headed and stubborn; so handing over the reins doesn't in any way come naturally to her. The thought that in a few short days, her body, along with her mind, will be the property of another, although intriguing and exciting at the same time, I knew terrified her to the core.
I never imagined five days could be so long. I never expected a week to drag out so continuously. The only thing keeping me in check - the only thing holding me together - was the fact that I had to start this week with my newly acquired Dominant brain. But seriously, if I'd thought I was mind fucking her before to tempt her into basically begging for such mind blowing fuckery, I was so sadly mistaken. I was assured that Saturday would come fast if I just kept my focus, stayed strong and did my best not to falter. Honestly, I was a bundle of nerves, and in my heart, I knew if I stood still long enough, I'd probably puke.
Early Monday morning, I rise shakily from my desk, determined to start this off on the right foot. I hastily head in the direction of her office, anxiously needing to be done, shoulders back, doing my utmost to ooze the confidence I know oh-so-well I had none of. But as I cross the threshold, raising my eyes to the ceiling, I thank all that is holy when I notice she has her head down. She's writing, no doubt planning her day in her dutiful, trusty notepad, contemplating, no doubt ready to highlight her accomplishments as the morning goes by and double check them with a quick tick of her pen by evening. 'Told ya, control freak.' She doesn't sense my presence, enabling me to suck some well deserved oxygen into my lungs, wipe my trembling palms on my pants and regain what little composure I have left. Straightening myself a little taller, I stroll nonchalantly towards her desk. Heads turn to watch my approach. 'Did I forget to mention she had a class in attendance? All ready, willing and sitting patiently, waiting with bated breath for her first words of instruction? Oops, sorry, my bad. I forgot.' But it was now on never - I knew it needed to be done. It was now or never - I knew this was not the time to get squeamish and fuck up. I desperately needed to find the courage to begin, and this was a better time than any.
Not until I reach her desk and place my slightly shaky, somewhat sweaty, palms flat on the hardwood and lean down, does she even acknowledge my existence. At first her smile is bright and sincere, but as she recognizes the stern expression on my face, the direct stare of my gaze, and maybe even the rise of an expected eyebrow, I watch as her gorgeous, boyish features turn worried, and her genuine smile starts to falter, her lips quivering at the corners, momentarily pulling on my heartstrings. But believe me, that moment was fleeting, and forgotten fast, once I noticed her dark eyes glaze over lustfully, anticipating my next move.
Stopping inches from her perfectly sculptured nose, fighting the urge to just lean a little further and kiss its beautiful defined tip, I whisper seductively into the now thick and humid air. "Your orgasms, until I say different, belong to me. There will be no masterbation, and definitly no reason for you to come until I tell you that you can." Without missing a beat or blinking an eye, I rise to a standing position quickly, and just as I'm about to turn and walk away, a small, slow drawn out, lust filled "Fuck!" releases from between her lips. With my heart pounding frantically in my chest and my breath caught somewhere in the back of my throat, I turn and smile, satisfied, at her students, and with more confidence than I had when I entered her classroom, I strut my now overzealous ass right out of there.
Reaching the hallway, checking it twice to make sure the coast is clear, I lean heavily against the wall, placing my hands on my knees. I bend at the waist and smile widely to myself, happy in the knowledge that I had pulled it off, content in the knowledge that I got the result I had been seeking, relieved in the understanding that I had accomplished - without fault - one of this week's five tasks. Pulling myself to full height, running my still shaky fingers through my hair, breathing air through my nostrils, I release a hushed whisper into the now-crowded corridor. "Just four more to go."
Tuesday, I will have to say, is a little different. Overnight, my boldness had grown and my expectations for Saturday have heightened, but by the looks of things, hers, by all means, had not. Sam appeared out of sorts, not as put together and suave as she usually does. My dutiful and friendly hello's, I could see, were obviously getting to her, my eagerness to only talk about work-related issues, driving her crazy. She knew there was another task, she was jumping out of her skin anxiously anticipating my next skilled move. So by lunch, I decided it was time to put her out of her misery. Sending her a quick message, I explained, "By day's end, I need you to send me a detailed email stating something, just anything you would desire me to accomplish come Saturday. Remember, in writing that, your wish is my command. There will be no task inconsequential, or for that matter, colossal."
Within an hour, I receive a reply. "Well, I have two things. One is easy, and I think you would consider lame. The other a little harder - even complicated - and to be quite honest, I'm not sure if it would be something you could handle."
Snubbing my nose at her words, somewhat irritated that she would even question my ability - and truthfully, desperately needing to know just want miss butch boi thought I couldn't handle - I reply immediately. "It is not your place to determine what I can and can not handle, you let me be the judge of that."
So as I went about my business, eagerly waiting for her answer, curiously envisioning what the hell this complicated task could be, I literally jumped out of my skin when the new mail bing rang from my computer, and my heart skipped a frantic beat when I noticed it was from her.
I nervously opened it, scanning worriedly over the page at first, my eyes darting from words to explanations, not reading or paying much mind, just hoping that maybe something - maybe just anything - would jump from the page and immediately satisfy my deviant curiosity.
I let my eyes flutter closed momentarily, feeling the need to steady myself, wanting to breathe deep, enabling myself to get centered. To say the fucker was long would be an understatement. I was shocked at just how much the woman had to say. As my eager eyes danced across the page, my mouth once again ran dry with anticipation. And as I read her words, my heart started to race like wild horses in my chest, their galloping hooves pounding against my rib cage, my shaky hand sliding over my mouse as each word, each explanation, caused my body to tremble uncontrollably; causing a cold sweat to lightly dust my now clammy skin while tiny goose bumps prickled along the back of my neck.
'Fisting!' My eyes cloud as I try my best to let the word sink in. 'Are you fucking serious! Is she God damn trying to kill me?' Of all things she could say, of all the kinky and dirty tasks she could choose from and request, she chose God damn fucking fisting. She explains in some detail what she wants me to do, words like wet-teasing, caress, three fingers, more fingers, corkscrewing-twists and penetration invade the page, taunting my mind, playing with my very vivid imagination.
Now it was my turn to lose my cool. I felt the blood drain from me, concluding that it was now my turn to become undone. This blew my mind and shook me to my core. Fear suddenly engulfed me, expectations flooded my every thought. I read the email like it was a church going bible, doing my best to have the words sink in and become one with my psyche, doing my utmost to convince myself this would be something I could accomplish.
Regaining my composure, I spent the rest of the afternoon acting cool, unwilling to give her any indication that she had gotten to me, determined not to show how much her email had affected me. But the minute that work day was complete, the second I entered the security of my very own room, I set to work investigating what the hell I had gotten myself into. Damn! They had site after site of this shit. My mind was reeling as my clammy hand encouraged the cursor to hover over each and every title. For hours, I had videos on repeat. For what felt like days, I uncovered every little piece of information I could obtain. And after what seemed like an eternity, I felt confident enough to see this endeavor to completion.
Wednesday came just as quickly. I smiled inwardly as I sat at my desk, realizing just how fast this week was going. Saturday would be here in no time, and my belly excitedly flipped when I let my mind wander to that morning, and Sam's fantasy finally getting to be played out in full. Sam was offsite, but I still had a task to complete, and I still had a message to relay. Picking up my trusty cell phone, I eagerly sent her a text, making it our last communication of the day. 'Tomorrow morning, before I arrive, I want a toy of your liking, owning - either, I don't care - placed on my desk. Keep in mind, this might come into play in some shape or form come Saturday.'
And lo and behold, come Thursday morning, I arrive to find said toy sitting in my chair. Thursday was a little nerve-racking. Thursday took a lot of willpower; and as the end of the week drew near, each of our nerves were totally on edge, and our determination and drive was slightly fraying at the corners. She expected another task, she anticipated another message, and it was my mission never to disappoint the woman. Returning to the scene of the crime, where I had started this fuckery Monday, I enter her office, elated to find her alone. Sitting myself in the chair across from her, crossing my legs, leaning my elbows on its arms and entwining my long fingers,, folding my hands under my chin, I explain as calmly as I can muster, "You need to come up with a safe word. Just one. Do yourself a favor, and make it something simple, cause come Saturday, 'no' or 'stop' will no longer be an option."
A defeated breath left her, and I watch, enthralled, as she places her elbows on her desk, causing her shoulders to hunch, then throwing herself hopelessly forward to meet her now-clasped hands. And as I give her a moment to think, as I give her a moment to contemplate, I nonchalantly rise and leave the room. But as soon as I sit my weary ass down at my desk, as soon as I give myself a second to pull myself together, my infamous chat box appears, and the word "Pink" blinks brightly upon the screen. Leaning back, I chuckle to myself, finally realizing just how much of an effect this week has really had on Sam. Cause pink - like seriously, the word pink - would be the last word that you would ever have associated with my completely butch counterpart.
I wake Friday, strangely enough feeling refreshed and rejuvenated, this is going to be an easy day, thank fucking to all that would listen that it was finally the last. And even though the hours drag - even though I'm counting every minute and every second - I possess a weird sense of exhilaration as I watch Sam do her best to hold it together. She was walking on eggshells, jumping at each and every comment I make. The stress, frenzy and, dare I say, matched exhilaration finally coming to a head, I can see in her demeanor that she is about to become undone. And a few minutes before the end of the day, as I evilly watch her through the cover of my lashes, excitingly bouncing on the soles of her feet, her tight fists shoved deep into her jeans pockets. I glance over, amused, as her lips make motion to ask or inquire, then suddenly watching as her brain concludes it best not to, and would entertainingly pull her up short. Alas, it becomes too much, and in an octave higher than she usually speaks, she questions me hurriedly, "Don't I have a task tonight? Don't you have anything to tell me?"
I gaze at her, slowly drinking her in, my mind reeling, secretly dancing within the confines of my head, excitedly playing tomorrow behind cover of my now glazed over eyes. Then I patiently answer, "Yes! Yes I do. Tonight I want you to go home, eat well, relax and get to bed early. I will not contact you tonight, so don't expect it. Just know, in the morning, you will receive a text with a time and destination."
To say Friday night was mayhem for me would be an understatement. Upon arriving home, I hit the ground running. And although I was totally exhausted from the week, I was so over excited, my skin prickled with anticipation. Adrenaline coursed through my veins. Grabbing what I needed and with my trusty list in hand, I head out, full of determination just to get what I have to accomplish done.
Restraints were first on my list, 'Yeah! You heard me right' This lady's wish was my command, and if she wanted her wrists and ankles bound to the bed, tied down she would be. Grabbing the box of leather straps, a clit vibrator and some lube - 'What? What's wrong with lube? Oh, please, ya never know! Don't judge me!' - I head for the counter. Standing in line, tapping my foot, my eyes wanders to the cashiers. 'Like seriously! Like fucking really!' The kid has to be about eighteen at the most. Dreading to make eye contact, afraid that I'll be judged, I slide my purchases across the counter, placing them firmly in front of her silly little schoolgirl nose. I'm pulled up short, and I suck in air, trying desperately to catch my breath when the quiet, seductive voice of a friend plays in my head. 'You got this, now own it.' I watch through my lashes as the cashier's blunt black-painted fingernails reach for my stuff, ready to ring them up. And as I let my gaze travel along her sleeve-tattooed arm, over her, should I dare to say, vintage Motorhead t-shirt, I chuckle to myself at the irony of the situation, finally letting my stare come in contact with her deep hazel eyes and pierced brow. But the second she raises it cockily in my direction, questioningly, I boldly inquire, "You wouldn't happen to have nipple clamps, would you?" The instant she drops the lube, I smile. The second she stutters out her answer, "No!... No...we don't carry them," I straighten, grinning widely, and reply, "Oh, okay. Too bad. Clothespins it is then. Thanks!"
Next stop was candles, clothespins... and toothpaste - 'Don't even ask. You'll find out soon enough.' - then the liquor store - 'Yes, my lovelies, I can swallow my pride and admit this apprentice Dom needs herself some beer balls." Once that task is completed, I head right for the supermarket - 'No! Not to buy sex toys. Don't be silly!' - to get refreshments. I need bottled water, some juice and, from what I understand, a shitload of fruit; and being the dutiful me that I am, that's what I do. 'God forbid I'd have the girl keel over on me, due to lack of care on my part.' Next stop is the hotel. I'll have to arrive earlier than usual, and need to stay past check out. This will all happen in an appointed window of time, so I made it priority to speak to the receptionist in person, having been advised that my charming self would probably get the job done quicker and easier.
And sure enough it worked! With a wide smile - and a little extra cash - I was in the door. I eagerly head to the room once I retrieved my bags and purchases from the car, hurrying through the corridors like a crazy person, the halls silent this time of night, the rustle of my plastic shopping bags echoing within the walls. Timidly opening the door, I'm hit with the freezing air. Dropping everything, I run to the damn machine, turning it up to a more humane level. Scanning the room quickly, getting my bearings and accessing my surroundings, I diligently set to work.
First the straps. Removing them from the box is a little intimidating, if I'm being honest. They are strong, but soft. I let them run through my fingers, and even fasten one around my own wrist to inspect and try out. When I had fed my curiosity, I hurriedly start to fasten them to the bed legs, wrapping them up and over, laying each hoop on either corner of the bed. Then came the candles - a few on the nightstands, one on the table and another sat on the bar. Grabbing another plastic bag, I open the small drawer beside the bed, where I place the lube, toothpaste, clothespins and toy. Reaching for another bag, having acquired something earlier in the week, having researched, questioned and studied it, I place yet another object - a secret object - in the other drawer. Crawling down the bed, stepping off the edge, standing straight with hands on hips, I observe my canvas. I smile wide, proud and elated with myself at my very own strength and accomplishments. Moving to the bar area, I get to work slicing and dicing the fruit, wrapping it tightly and placing it in the fridge, along with the water, liquor and juices. Cleaning up my mess, clearing out the room, I leave, silently closing the door behind me. It was the wee hours of the morning by now, and I'll have to be up in two of them to get this show on the road, so with a happy, contented heart and a head spinning with knowledge and anticipation, I quickly and quietly head for home.
Entering the hotel room the morning of, is a whole other experience, even though I'm freshly showered and my hair's still damp, the room feels hot and claustrophobic. My God damn nerves are shot. Every inch of my clammy skin tingles impatiently. I open the sliding glass doors to the balcony, then pour myself a well-earned, much-needed drink, and head with glass and little bucket in hand in search of the ice machine.
On my return, I pour myself another liquid courage, light the candles, and proceed to pull a chair behind me, leisurely sitting myself comfortably in the early morning sun, slowly puffing on a cigarette. Taking out my cell phone, I decide it's time to finally put Sam out of her misery, urgently sending her a text stating where I am, the room number, and the time she needs to be here.
Her quick and only reply was 'Big Smile.' They're only little words, but they mean so much. With a huge grin on my face, I let my thumb rub gently across the screen, content in knowing that this is making her happy, proud in knowing, that she trusts me enough to share it with her.
One more smoke and another drink later, from my perch on the balcony, I watch her car approach. Moving quickly, I push my chair further back, doing my best to melt into the wall behind me. She can't see me, I'm sure; she wouldn't know where to look. But I really feel the need to assess her from afar. As luck would have it, there's an open space right below me, and I watch gleefully as she slowly pulls into the spot. I lean forward in my chair, curious, needing a better look, when I realize some time had passed, and she still hasn't exited her vehicle. Cocking my head to one side, I stare guiltily as I view her white-knuckled grip wrapped tight around the steering wheel and her head slumped heavily between her shoulders. For a split second, I want to call this off, for a mere moment, I am overwhelmed, and need to put a stop to this. But as I run my shaky fingers through my hair, ready to stand and confront her with a phone call, the slamming of the car door hammers in my ears, making my gaze shoot quickly in her direction, nervously watching as she timidly made her way towards the hotel's entrance.
Quickly pouring myself another drink, I sit on the couch, sucking in my nervous tension, doing my very best to look nonchalant. 'And just so you know, it is so fucking not happening right now.' But still I tried my best. I had left the door ajar, enabling her to enter alone. It took longer than need be, but eventually she emerges from the hallway. I give myself a minute to drink her in, my tired eyes scanning her form wantonly, but fast. Still as nervous and as stressed as I know she is - still as concerned and overwrought as I know she is probably feeling - I have to admire and applaud my beautiful strong butch boi, in her casual shorts, t-shirt, baseball cap and timid smile.
I give her a while to somewhat relax - 'Not that she does, mind you.' She spends her time sipping awkwardly on her sweet wine and pacing the rug. From time to time, she shoots me questioning looks from her side view, thinking I won't notice, leaving the room in intervals to sit on the balcony and puff slowly on her cigarette.
Assuming enough time has passed, and thinking the wine should be starting to take effect and mellow her, I call her in from what I guess she now thinks of as her little smoke safe haven. "Sam! It's time." I anxiously watch as her back tenses and her head falls heavily, but within seconds, she stands shakily, straightens herself and warily approached the couch.
As she stands in front of me watching, waiting for my next move, from my sitting position, I raised my hand, palm up and ordered, "Strip!" Her face falls and her questioning eyebrows shot into her hairline. "Huh?" Was her quick, uneasy reply. Sucking air deep into my lungs, determined to keep eye contact and not falter, I repeat myself one more and one final time. "Strip, I said!" And with that command, she obeyed.
I watch, enthralled, as she dutifully unwraps herself like a present. I'm trying to hold it together, trying to patiently give her the space and time required. But as lust and greed surge through me, I feel the urge to pounce and take her where she stands. It takes all that I have to sit still. It takes all that I am not to devour her. And as she removes each piece of clothing, folding it and placing it in my hopefully un-noticeably shaky hand, my God damn mouth starts to run dry as I feel my tongue swell slightly and uncomfortably graze the inside of my cheeks like sandpaper.
She's out of her realm, so far removed from her butch secure element, though still in her presence, still in the body I have grown to worship and admire. I watch uneasily as the unfamiliar obscure sight unfolds before me. Don't get me wrong, nothing has changed. The view of her soft round shoulders leading to that warm spot on her neck she so easily gives me access to beneath her beater still excites me. The glimpse of a slightly curved hip under her boxer briefs still sends my heart into turmoil, and the minute she unwraps her breasts - those breasts, so soft and full like a secret; like a gift - the image still sets my body aflame and my belly eagerly somersaults beneath my boy shorts.
Letting my eyes flutter closed, centering myself, regaining my strength, I have to remember - I have to recall - that even though I might be taking, even though I might be the one supposedly in control, she is offering it willingly. We are partaking in this endeavor as a team. I'm brought out of my musing when I hear her sigh deeply. Pulling on my newly acquired knowledge, I slowly let my lids reopen and my eyes hungrily devour her. She's shifting uncomfortably on the soles of her feet. Her anxious eyes dart frantically around the room, and for the first time since I met her, for the first time since we had that somewhat uncomfortable, but belly flipping, mind blowing first kiss, I saw a softer, unsure - and dare I say sexier - side of Sam.
She follows my stare to the bed, and dutifully obeys when I tell her to climb on. Once she is lying naked to the world, and only then, do I make my approach. Fully dressed in boy shorts and beater, I straddle her hips, needing to wiggle my own, having to hold hostage a groan trying desperately to release itself from the confines of my throat, when I feel the moisture of myself glide between us.
Sternly, I order her to spread. Her eyes widen and her head rolls from side to side when she notices me reach for the straps. Once in place, and assured she is comfortable, I hesitantly reach towards the opposite side of the bed, and open the other drawer.
Shaking slightly, I present to her my secret gift. My facade momentarily falters when I hear her gasp aloud. Both our stares dart eagerly between the object and each other, as I do my utmost to explain. With a firm grip on the leather and steel collar, I nervously continue, "You don't have to wear it. I know it's something we didn't discuss, and seriously I wasn't absolutely sure how deep you were really wanting to go. But if you're up for it, and you are sincerely willing, I'd like to give it a try." And as she swallows hard, her gaze eagerly examining the object, she obediently lifts her head off the pillow and slowly nods. Wrapping it around her throat - securing it with a pink ribbon - I watch overwhelmed as her demeanor suddenly changes, and her body slowly melts into the mattress. With a broad, excited smile, I lean in and kiss her mouth passionately.
Soft meets soft, tender engulfs with tenderness, as I let our tongues dance excitedly, slipping and sliding the length of each other's. But as I'm pulling back, ready to proceed, she breathlessly questions, "Aren't you getting naked?" I'm sure my features soften - for a moment, I'm sure she sees the glint in my eyes - but as I hurry to distract her, as I do my best to keep her in my pocket of time, kissing seductively across her cheek - licking the fold in her neck - traveling painstakingly slowly to where it connects to her shoulder - I reply onto her now slightly humid skin. "No. This moment has nothing to do with me right now, and everything to do with you." When my words fall upon her ears, I feel her belly contract as I let my fingertips travel the length of her torso.
I'm finding it hard to keep focused, as my hands glide over the contours of her body. Warm, soft, supple skin bends to my every whim. Uncertainty consumes me momentarily, causing me to guiltily glance in her direction. Her eyes flutter closed, her skin flushes, glowing with a crimson hue. I let my own lids fall heavily when I watch in awe, as her pink tongue darts from the confines of its warm cavity, and dances deliciously across her dried lips. Her chest expands and contracts as she does her utmost to control her insecurities and rein in her need to take charge.
And so I begin.
Slowly crawling down her form, I let my mouth devour every luscious inch of her. My lips glide against her skin wantonly and needily - like they own it - like they deserve it - like it's mine. With each nip of my mouth, there's a lick of my tongue; with each lick of my tongue, there's a soft caress of my fingertips. I let colors dance within my head, so overwhelmed at this moment fireworks spark and play behind my lids, as my breath hitches deep in my throat when goosebumps follow my journey and skip across her smooth, hot flesh. I move swiftly, the best part of being lean and agile, I guess, and place myself between her thighs. I run my hands over her legs, timidly travelling first down, then retracing the move in an upward motion, until my palms come in contact and my long fingers fold firmly around each supple butt cheek. Lifting her gently, elated when she assists, I let my eyes fall heavily and take a second to breathe in deep.
Her scent consumes me - fresh, musky and sweet. Saliva builds in the back of my throat, and my tongue darts to quench my now dehydrated lips. Not giving myself a moment to think, not needing any time to second guess, I flatten my tongue and press it firmly against her heat, dragging it seductively between her folds. My taste buds spark as tiny beads of her juice scurry eagerly to join them. The groan that fills the air, bouncing of the walls and echoing in my ears, encourages me to continue. The tilt of her hips eagerly pressing against my face, hungrily wanting and needing more, pushes me forward.
Releasing my grip, I let one digit enter her while my mouth plays and frolics in her wetness. It's warm - cozy even - and the dampness that surrounds it invites me in, making me feel at home. She bucks to meet my finger, her back rising slightly off the bed. Her body begs me silently for more. Catching her clit between my lips, hungrily sucking it deep, I proceed to bury two more fingers, and painstakingly fuck her slow. A few sure sucks on her clit and I own it. I feel it swell in my mouth. I sense when her breathing changes, and grow empowered when her juices flow freely, soaking my face.
I have her eager now. I've filled her with more want than she can handle, so as I sense the moment she's about to come undone, as I realize the instant I know she wants to give in and explode, I pull back.
Her raised form hits the bed angrily and defeated, and a not so subtle "Fuck!" frees itself from her lips.
But I pay it no mind, I give it no attention, as my dripping face moves upward across her salty with sweat flesh, longingly searching to attack with vigor that filthy butch boi's mouth. And as I let her taste herself, enabling her to lick and suck my tongue raw, her pants and groans vibrate within me. Her heavy warm breath dusts my face as I move my hand, cupping one supple breast, squeezing it firmly. Taking her erect nipple between my fingers, I press hard, excitedly jumping when her low, hard "Fuck me!" once again dances and pulsates against my lips.
Sitting back on my heels, I reach for the drawer and remove the toy. It's huge. It excites me. There are so many bells and whistles, I really should feel a little more intimidated, than I already do - but weirdly enough, I'm not. I've come to realize that rubber, plastic, little balls and humming vibrations are no match for my skilled fingers, willing hands and eager mouth. So merely sneering at the object, dismissing it if you will, I proceed with the confidence that I won't be told to leave the room, enabling her to be alone with her new found friend.
Glancing her over one more time, her clammy skin, flushed face and damp hair reassure me she is comfortable. Then smiling gleefully, recognizing that her eagerly expanding chest, short breathless pants and tight lips relay that she is not a happy fucking camper. She's struggling against the restraints, the urge to be free and take over battling somewhere in the back of her beautiful butch boi mind. But before she can gain strength and win me over, before she comes to realize if she just worded an objection, I'd probably give in, I press the toy between her spread legs and push it forward into her wet heat.
At first, I'm slow and precise, twisting and pushing, tugging and pulling. She rises to meet it, swaying her hips to accommodate its girth, and when I'm satisfied it is fully in place, when I'm content in the knowledge that there is no discomfort, I press every button at my disposal. Her knees buckle, her fists tighten, blunt nails dig forcefully into her sweaty palms, and a low husky hard " Oh...wow!" hits the humid air above our heads. Slowly penetrating her, painstakingly maneuvering it to hit the spots I know oh so well she wants touched, I lean forward and start nipping, sucking and licking the skin around her hips and thighs.
She's starting to grind. She's beginning to roll. Breathless "Fuck! Fuck! Fucks" are escaping between each and every heavy pant. And with one final corkscrew of the vibrator, and a long hard drag of my heavy tongue along her clit, I sense when she sucks in a deep breath, feeling when her hips tighten. And before she could release the scream that I knew was dancing on the tip of her tongue, I evilly and urgently remove the toy from her.
I give her a second to recover, a moment to pull herself together, and an instant to get the fuck over herself, and stop cursing me under her breath. Reaching one more time for the drawer, and with the same motion retrieving a few ice cubes from the bucket, twisting the cap, I gently spend the toothpaste on her overly sensitive, fully engorged, clit. I smile wide when her eyes shoot open. I grin broadly when a stern "What the... Babe!?" releases from her, and sigh heavily when, within seconds, my iced mouth comes in contact with her minty folds, and a strong "Wow!" hums in the space around us.
She's squirming, twisting, pressing hard against my face, as my frozen lips hungrily remove the sweet paste. She's full of whispered questions, inquires and concerns, but starts to relax when I hum delightfully at the deliciousness hitting the back of my tongue. Then just to keep her interested, just to keep her on her toes, I surprise her with one more party trick, when I transfer the three small dice of frozen water from the cave of my mouth, into the burning flesh of her dampness. I press my tongue forward, letting it play and frolic with the melting cubes. I smile onto her flesh when she submits to my touch, when she sinks relaxed and content onto the mattress.
Its been a few hours now. I know her nerves and senses are shot, and I guess in my subconscious, I've been secretly putting off the inevitable. She's soaked. Her beautiful body now glistens with sweat, and her tight hard thighs with the stickiness of her own juices. So as I timidly make my way up her form, as I seductively kiss, nip and lick at her flesh, lustfully taking her hard nipples between my teeth, sucking and twisting, biting and pulling, crawling to her neck, laying my full weight upon her, I slowly let two fingers enter. With my head buried behind her ear, breathing in her scent, her spiked damp hair tickling my nose, I push forward adding another two. She catches on real fast. Her breath hitches when she realizes what I'm about to do, but as soon as I twist all four in an upward manner, enabling my thumb to run the length of her clit, she voluntarily succumbs to my touch and freely relaxes onto my hand.
I start slow at first, twisting the four fingers, circling her heat within. To say I am nervous would be an understatement. To point out that I am terrified would be no assumption. My hand drips with moisture. I feel it run the length of my wrist as I play in her fluids. My palm pools with her juices. Slowly pulling back, eagerly listening for signs of discomfort or distress, I bring my thumb to meet the other four digits, forming a cone, then delicately I let my full hand enter her, carefully bending my fingers into a fist when my wrist breaks through the barrier. Inhaling a deep, worried breath, I lay as still as I possibly can, giving her time to adjust to my intrusion, but in honesty, giving myself a second to calm my overzealous heart and control my anxious, fraying nerves.
When our pants are low and slow, when our breathing is identical and I'm assured with a soft whisper that she is safe, only then do I proceed. Wrapping my arm tightly around the back of her shoulders, bringing her face to meet mine, I steal her mouth with my own Her soft groan vibrates against my tongue. Her gentle whimpers elate and delight me. And when she eagerly bites my lip, sucking it between her own, I start to slowly move.
Deliberately, I twist and turn. My fingers graze her insides; my knuckles rub gently against her hot, soft flesh. Closing my eyes tighter than I could ever imagine possible, I watch excitedly as sparks and fireworks dance behind my lids. And as I breathe through my anxiety, as I swallow around my fear, I cautiously unfold my hand, motioning gently, like a blooming flower. My breath hitches in my throat when my fingertips come in contact with every soft, warm, inviting piece of her.
I inhale deeply, doing my best to stop my head from spinning. My heart leaps in my chest at the thought of having this much intimate contact, and my mind reels with the obscurity and beauty of this giving act. Overwhelmed and euphoric, I attack her mouth with vigor, wanting to steal her groans, smother her moans, and greedily consume every minute experienced, every lust-filled second of being together, and completely revel in this blissfulness.
It blows my mind, the feeling of every tiny muscle contracting and expanding from the most insignificant maneuver on my part. It causes my heart to beat heavier in my chest when she strains and clenches around my slowly twisting wrist. Small tremors ricochet along each lean digit, as quivers like tiny lightning rods bounce eagerly to meet my drenched skin massaging it softly. The mere thought of this entrusted act causes me to swallow hard. I'm finding it difficult to hold it together, so overwhelmed, I'm unable to keep my poise, as I feel a surge of energy explode within her when suddenly her internal temperature rises to a fevered pitch, causing my humid skin to goosebump when her center starts to slowly convulse.
It doesn't take long - and honestly I'm surprised by her stamina - for me to be able to pinpoint and identify the second she's unable to hold it together, and needs to immediately come undone; and it gives me great joy and honor to finally command her to finish. So in a barely audible whisper, I encourage her to release. "You can come now, babe. Just let go." And with that, she erupts. My eyes widen in amazement, my throat tightens in awe, as I watch and feel Sam's body give in to the moment, and every lust filled emotion take over. Her head hits the pillow hard, her center rises from the bed, and I watch astonished as she grips, white knuckles grabbing the straps, and digs her blunt fingernails into her palms.
In this second, I'm useless. This moment renders me helpless, as I lay frozen and captivated by the most beautiful sight and feelings I have ever encountered. Sam's body arches and sways, her whimpers shallow and heavy. Sweat dances in the sun, as her belly expands and contracts with each breathtaking orgasm surging through her. And as I slowly close my hand and painstakingly twist and curl, unwillingly and begrudgingly withdrawing from her seductive, comfortable heat, my breath is stolen from me. My eyes involuntarily flutter closed when I get to partake in this wondrous occasion, when I feel every clench, spasm, convulsion and contraction intimately thunder and echo within.
She lays breathless and spent, as I release her from the confines of the restraints, her whispered "Thank you's" and praised "Wow! That was amazing!" now gleefully fill my ears. But as I'm sitting back on my heels, watching her wallow in her blissfulness, totally proud and mentally patting myself for a job well done, my anxious breath hitches in my throat, and my eyes excitedly squint, when I'm quickly reminded with the soft seductive voice of my friend in my head of what is actually going to happen next.
"Just remember, stay in the moment. Keep in mind to always be in control. Because the minute you give her permission to come, the second you release her from the restraints, all bets are totally off, and she will quickly and swiftly return to her butch controlling self."
Swallowing hard, allowing my tired eyes to recall the memory and open slowly, I'm not given a second to think. There's not even a minute to argue, cause the moment I try, I'm pulled forward, causing a sharp, high pitched yelp to release itself from me, making me uncontrollably start to scream like a fourteen-year-old schoolgirl, when Sam mercilessly grabs me around my waist, flings me to the mattress, then eagerly and determinedly strips me of my clothes.
Her eyes are dark and hungry. She takes me hard and relentless. My breath is stolen when her precise, calculated moves remind me that she's amazingly overpowering and strong. My heart pounds hard in my ears, as I feel her mouth and teeth suck and nip at my goosebumped flesh. Anxiousness and excitement course through me, as I listen eagerly when Sam's stern threats and demands are whispered on my fevered skin.
And as I succumb to her willingly, pulling her tighter, not able to let go, I finally give myself over in a whirlwind of passion and lust, feeling myself thaw when her body weight engulfs me and she buries her face in my neck. I feel her breathe deep, sensing that moment she has escaped into her own head, letting my imagination soar when I realize that she's retreated to only a place she now knows. And in that instant, she's quick to take charge. Within seconds, she's urgently kneeing my legs apart, and without falter or question, I obediently let them spread and fall to the side. My chest tightens and gallops. I'm finding it hard to focus and breathe, when her warm hand reaches between them, and I'm finally able to sigh deep in relief, when her capable, commanding fingers enter my throbbing heat. A low, wanton growl releases from me. The husky, lust-filled noise bounces and echoes within the walls, as Sam proceeds to remind me, once and for all, who the hell is really boss.
And as we lay on the covers, depleted and content, soft pants and gentle weary moans the only sounds to be heard, the afternoon sun warms our now-cooling skin. I grin wide, totally satisfied in the knowledge that I got to accomplish and share in this One Simple Request.
I'll wait patiently to hear what you all think...Thanks again for reading.