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From: Tiramisu <tiramixu@yahoo.com>
Subject: {ASSM} {GALAGO} <*> The Third Counter (Tiramisu) (MF, BD, F-dom, moderate SM)
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CONTENT WARNING: This story has an adult theme and may include graphic
descriptions of sexual acts. If it is either illegal where you are, or you
are not of legal age to view such material, please stop now.
The Third Counter, by Tiramisu. MF, BD, F-dom, moderate SM.
Copyright 1999 by Tiramisu. All rights reserved. Please do not repost
without explicit permission of the author. Permission is granted for
archiving in ass and assm.
Comments are welcome. The story will also be posted in ASS with a
number of question I'd appreciate feedback on. Email Tiramixu@yahoo.com.
Thanks! I hope you enjoy the story.
The Third Counter
Michael Grant looked at his watch. Shit. 6:35. He should have been on
the 6 o'clock flight, and if this damn line didn't move, he might even miss
the 7 o'clock. It had been a long day. He didn't need this. And he was
looking forward to getting to his hotel, climbing into bed, and calling
Veronica.
Michael studied the check-in line. Three people in front of him. Two
counters to the right were closed. Three counters in front and to the left
were open. The family at the first counter in front of him was having a
problem with something. Shit. The suit at the second counter to the left
was taking his boarding pass and moving off and the suit at the head of the
line was moving in to take his place. Good. He might make it after all.
He glanced at his watch. 6:36.
Then he looked at the third counter. Oh, wow, the third counter.
The agent at the third counter was stunning. Strawberry blond hair
clipped short. Almost boyish, but not quite. The short hair emphasized
her long neck, her jawline, high cheekbones, delicate ears. He imagined
kissing that neck, nibbling those ears. She seemed to be finishing up with
the young couple at her counter. She was smiling at them.
Michael studied her face. Her smile was bright and sunny, her face
pretty in a plain, simple sort of way. Fresh, that was it. Fresh and
sunny. Innocent, too. She had a clean fresh, innocent look. Yet there
was something sexy about her. It was subtle, but very sexy.
He tried to figure his chances of ending up at the third counter. Two
people in front of him now, a businesswoman and a student. The family was
still struggling at the first counter, trying to check in too many bags.
They were going to be there awhile. The couple with "Sunny" at counter
three should be moving off soon, and the businesswoman would take their
place. That would leave the student. If the suit at counter two was
quick, then the student would get counter two, and he should get "Sunny."
6:39. Shit. The only way he'd make the 7 o'clock would be if that family
would hurry up. But then he'd probably miss "Sunny." He glanced at his
watch again. Still 6:39. Ten seconds since he'd last looked at it.
Michael smiled. This was silly. All he really wanted was to make the
flight. And of course, nothing would actually happen if he did get the
third counter. He'd simply get his boarding pass and move on, just like
everyone else. Not that he wouldn't take advantage of the occasional
opportunity for extra curricular fun. He and Veronica weren't exclusive,
since their travels kept them apart for weeks at a time.
Michael thought about calling Veronica once he got in, remembered the
last time, and the ice cubes. . .
A voice from his right called, "Next." Another counter had opened up.
The businesswoman moved off to the new counter. He tried to refigure
whether he'd end up with "Sunny," but the family finally got their boarding
passes and claim checks and was moving on. The student moved up to the
counter and Michael was first in line. The couple with "Sunny" were
getting their boarding passes, but seemed to be asking endless questions.
Hurry damn it. There was till time if the line at security wasn't too
long.
The suit at counter two got his boarding pass and moved on. Shit.
Michael hesitated, looking toward "Sunny" who was smiling at the young
couple. Counter two picked up the phone. The couple moved on. Michael
walked to third counter.
"Hi," Michael said, giving her his best smile. Her eyes were blue. Her
name tag said Gwen Huber. "I was booked on the 6, but I missed it. I'm
hoping you can get me on the 7."
She looked at him. "You missed the 6."
"Yes, Gwen . . ."
"Ms. Huber."
"Uh, yes, well . . ."
"You missed the 6 and didn't cancel." A statement, not a question. Her
voice was soft, yet her tone was commanding.
Like most business travelers, Michael often missed flights without
bothering to cancel. He hadn't given it much thought, but it had crossed
his mind that if everyone stopped doing this, everyone would be better off.
Many times when he made last minute plans he had to fly standby because the
flight was booked, and he was unable to board until the last minute, only
to find the plane half empty because of all the no-shows. All the noshows
probably helped push up airline costs, and ultimately airfares, too.
Gwen was looking at him sternly. He remembered Sister Mary Grace in the
eighth grade who looked at him that way just before she rapped his knuckles
with a ruler for talking in class. But when Gwen looked at him that way,
her eyes burned into him. His body responded. "I'm sorry," Michael said,
then added, without thinking, without knowing why, "Are you going to punish
me?"
She stared at him. He felt her eyes locked onto his as if she were
probing his mind, looking into his soul. Was she taking that comment
seriously? His cock began to swell.
"Yes," she said, softly, firmly.
His cock stiffened. He looked into her eyes. "Yes?"
"Yes, Mr. Grant. You have been bad and I want to punish you."
He was imagining this, right? But still, her eyes held his. "Excuse
me?" he mumbled at last.
She didn't answer, turning instead to the printer behind her. Her olive
uniform hugged her body, accenting the curve of her hip and thigh as she
reached toward the printer. He looked at her neck, exposed below her
cropped hair, above the collar of her jacket. A long neck. Beautiful.
His hard cock had found its way through the fly in his boxers. He didn't
dare try to rearrange it in his pants.
She handed him a new boarding pass. "You are booked on the 7 tomorrow
morning, but be back here in an hour."
Michael started to protest, but instead took the boarding pass in
silence.
"Well?"
"Uh . . . thank you?" he stammered.
"Thank you, Ms. Huber," she corrected.
"Uh, thank you Miss Huber."
"That's better Michael. See you in an hour."
Michael walked away from the counter in a trance, momentarily forgetting
the embarrassing tent which had formed in his pants. Somehow, he found the
bar, ordered a Chivas on the rocks and tried to collect his thoughts. He
looked at his watch: 6:58. He had missed the 7, but there was still one
more flight at 8. He could go to another counter. Or he could just call
the airline, make the reservation, go right to the gate.
He pulled the cell phone from his pocket and began to dial the special
number for the airline's Platinum frequent fliers. It was answered
promptly: "We're sorry, but all lines are busy. As one of our best
customers, your call is very important to us, and someone will be with you
shortly. Please stay on the line to maintain your calling priority."
He listened to the "on hold" music on his cell phone, sipped his drink
and thought about Gwen. Ms. Huber. The line of her neck. The line of
her thigh, hard against her uniform. Whatever she had in mind, he wanted
it. He pressed the red "end" button and dialed the number for Marriott and
booked a room at the airport hotel.
He looked at his watch. 7:06. He gulped his drink. Still most of an
hour left. Now what. Not another drink, that was for sure. Michael
walked to the end of the concourse, to the Marriott, and checked in.
Michael hung his garment bag in the closet and tried to settle down.
What did she mean, she was going to punish him? Was she flirting?
Teasing? The implication that this would keep him here overnight was clear.
But would she punish him? The way his body had responded to that
suggestion had surprised him.
He slipped off his jacket, stepped out of his trousers, tossing the suit
on the bed. He removed his shirt and tie, then his undershirt, and stood
in front of the mirror in shoes, socks, boxers. He looked at himself. At
45 he still thought he looked good. Flat stomach. A touch of gray in his
hair which made him look distinguished. In fact, he was sure the touch of
gray gave him a presence, an air of maturity which had helped him get the
recent promotion to Marketing VP. He was self assured, confident. He
looked at his face. Blue eyes which he had been told were accented by the
blue pinstripe suit he wore. Blue eyes. Like Gwen. No, Ms. Huber. So
much for confidence.
He washed his face. Washed under his arms. Sprayed on the deodorant.
Shaved. No after shave. Brushed his teeth. Rinsed with the hotel
mouthwash.
What was she going to do to him? His cock began to stiffen again. What
was it about her? Her face, her eyes, the way she wore her hair? Maybe
she just wanted to have a drink or something. Would she really punish him?
Maybe spank him? Or tie him up and rob him? No, he knew her name. An
airline name tag had to be right, didn't it?
Michael changed his shorts. The boxers had a small damp spot. He put
on black bikini briefs. Clean white shirt. No undershirt. Who was he
kidding. He was expecting Gwen to fuck his brains out.
Again, he looked at his watch. 7:38. If he didn't hurry, he'd be late.
He tried to remember what time it was when he left the counter. He put on
his jacket. He did look sharp in the Ermenegildo Zegna suit.
* * *
It was 7:54 when he arrived at the counter. Gwen was there, but her
counter was closed and there was no line. The last flight out was at 8, so
Michael figured that must be when she got off. He walked up to her. "Hi,"
he said brightly.
"You're late. But we'll deal with that later. I'll be with you in a
moment."
He waited for what seemed a long time as she fussed with ticket coupons
and other stuff, finally locking her drawer, coming around the counter to
where he stood. "Hello, Michael." She surprised him by kissing him on the
cheek. Her lips brushed his ear, then she bit his ear. Hard enough to
hurt, then her tongue flickered over the spot she had bitten, and his body
reacted to the odd mix of pleasure and pain. "You do agree to this,
Michael?"
He was incredibly turned on. "Agree to this?" he asked dumbly.
"You know very well what I mean Michael. Once we start, there is no
turning back. And you must agree. Now."
His mind was racing. His ear hurt. She did want to punish him. His
mind said, no. His body said yes. And something deep in his soul said
yes. He wanted to ask, agree to what? Punishment? Sex? Both? But he
knew, her simple kiss, bite, lick on his ear had been his answer.
"Yes."
"Yes, Ms. Huber. Or simply, Ms. I don't want to keep correcting you."
"Yes, Ms, Huber."
"Did you check into the hotel?"
"Yes, Ms."
"Good. Give me the key, take my bag, and follow me."
Michael picked up her small briefcase, wondering what was in it. She
took her purse and headed off in the direction of the hotel as he scurried
behind her.
* * *
As soon as they were inside the room, she pushed him against the door,
pressed her body against his and kissed him. She ran her tongue over his
lower lip, gently bit his lower lip, kissing, sucking, nibbling. His body
immediately began to respond. This was going to be even better than he had
hoped.
He began to kiss her back, pressing his tongue against hers, slipping it
between her lips as he pressed his crotch against hers, his hands moved
behind her, pulling her to him.
Gwen stepped back and slapped his face.
"What . . ." he stammered. It wasn't a hard slap but it stung
nevertheless. Surprised him more than anything.
"Let's get this straight. You don't touch me without permission. I
will take what I want when I want. If I kiss you, you will accept it
passively. You will not kiss me back unless I tell you to. I will tell
you what I want and you will obey. Otherwise you will be passive,
submissive. Is that clear?"
"Yes."
She glared at him.
"Yes, Ms. Huber" he corrected.
"Good. You're learning. Michael. Now that we've got that straight,
don't count on being permitted to cum tonight. I haven't decided about
that yet. If you want to continue, good, but if you want to end this now,
tell me, and you'll never see me again. This is your last chance to turn
back, but if you continue you will obey me and submit to me. And while you
will not like everything that happens, I am quite confident you will not
regret your decision."
His erection had deflated instantly when she slapped him, but it was
returning. He didn't hesitate. "Yes, Ms."
"Good, now put your hands at your sides and leave them there." Gwen
moved closer, took his hands in hers. She pressed her body to his, kissing
him again, nibbling his lips, biting, sucking. She released his hands.
Slid her hands across his chest, over his shoulders, pushing his jacket off
his shoulders and letting it drop to the floor.
He wanted to kiss her back, plunge his tongue into her mouth, but he
struggled to remain passive. He did permit his lips to part and she probed
his mouth with her tongue, swirling her tongue around his, drawing it out,
pulling it between her lips, sucking. She bit his lip, ground her pelvis
against his growing hardness. His hands moved to her hips.
Before he even realized what he had done, she stepped back, slapped him
again, harder this time.
"Looks like you need help with those hands."
He looked at her quizzically. She was so pretty. She loosened his tie,
pulled it from around his neck. "Hands behind your back Michael." He
obeyed and she wrapped the tie around his wrists. He had never been tied
up by a woman before. His cock grew harder.
"Kissing is important, Michael. I'm going to kiss you again, and you
may kiss me back. You have to learn to do it right, gently at first,
nibbling, flicking just the tip of your tongue over mine. Graze my lips
with your teeth, but don't bite, even if I do. Don't shove your tongue in
my mouth. When I am ready, I will put my tongue in your mouth and you may
suck it gently and swirl your tongue around it. Other than that, you are
to remain passive."
Oh, god, he thought. This woman was incredible. No one had ever kissed
him like that, made such a sensual feast out of simple kissing. Never
before had he been with a woman who wanted him to be passive while she was
so active. This was exciting beyond anything he had experienced. And this
was just kissing. What else would follow? He wondered what else she was
capable of. Gwen's lips lightly brushed across Michael's. He received the
kiss, and grew more aroused. Her lips parted and her tongue found his,
teasing it. She bit his lower lip. He let his teeth brush lightly over
her lip. "Hmmm," she cooed, running her tongue over his lips and the tip
of his tongue.
Her tongue slipped between his lips and he sucked it gently. She
swirled it around his, bit his lip, opened her mouth wider, running the
flat of her tongue over his lips, teeth and tongue. She became more
aggressive, grinding against him, running her hands over his chest,
plunging her tongue into his mouth as he sucked, fighting to remain
passive, to only do what she said. As she ground against him, it took all
his will power to remain still, not hump and grind against her.
Gwen broke the kiss. "Hmm, Michael, that's good," she said
breathlessly, still rubbing against him, rubbing her breasts against his
chest. Her teeth grazed his neck. Her tongue followed.
"Oh god, Gwen," he said, then suddenly realized his error.
She must not have heard him. She bit his ear, put her tongue in his
ear, still rubbing, grinding. "I'm going to need to cum very soon,
Michael."
She stepped back. Michael looked at her. "Yes, Ms." he said. "I would
love to make you cum."
She grinned at him, but said nothing. She pulled the scarf from her
jacket pocket and draped it over his shoulder. Michael wondered, what was
. . .
He watched her remove her jacket, pull the blouse from her skirt. She
began to unbutton it and her breasts came into view. For the first time,
Michael began to see how perfect her body was. Her breasts were not
especially large, but they were firm, and large enough to spill over the
top of her white lace bra.
Michael was going crazy.
Gwen finished removing her blouse and kicked off her shoes. She reached
under her skirt and pulled down her pantyhose, stepping out of them.
Michael looked at her. Bare legs, olive airline uniform skirt hugging her
hips, perfect breasts in a white lace bra. Gwen unzipped her skirt and
stepped out of it. White lace bikini panties to match the bra.
"Omigod," Michael said softly.
Gwen removed her bra and stepped out of her panties. She was naked,
while he stood helplessly, only a foot away, still in his damned suit, with
his hands tied behind his back. His cock was now hard and painfully
confined. The bikini had not been such a good idea after all.
He wanted to make love to her. He needed to free his cock from its
confinement.
"Gwen, Ms., please. . ."
"Quiet. Do not speak without permission. You may not ask for anything.
I know exactly what you want. You want to kiss and lick these nipples,
don't you?" Gwen pinched an erect nipple, rolling it between her thumb and
forefinger. He could see the pleasure in her face. He groaned in
frustration. "You want to fuck me. You want to make me cum, but mostly
you want to cum yourself. Now, Michael, you know we've already talked
about that." She reached down and stroked him through his pants. "And I'm
sure this is quite uncomfortable. But, don't you realize Michael? This is
all just a part of your punishment."
His mind was spinning. He didn't have to be so obedient, he realized.
But what else could he do? He could get his hands free easily enough, but
he had no doubt that other than rape, the only way he would get anything
out of this was to do it her way. He had no illusions about overcoming her
with passion. And rape was out of the question, so his best bet was to
obey.
He watched her open her briefcase. She removed a large vibrator,
metallic, like silver or chrome. A whip thing, with a black rubber or
leather handle and several thin strands of the same material. It looked
pretty evil. A short stubby plastic thing. He wasn't sure what it was,
but he could guess. His ass tightened. He was a bit frightened, but still
confident he could keep things from getting out of hand. And, as she
removed these things and lay them on the bed one by one, his cock betrayed
him by stiffening even more. Then a set of handcuffs. That could be
dangerous. Then the last items: his eyes widened as she removed two
condoms.
She pressed her naked body against him and kissed him again. "I bet
you're wondering which of those toys we're going to play with," she said.
"Yes. Ms."
She responded by resuming the kiss, teasing his mouth with her lips and
tongue as she squirmed against him, rubbing her nipples against him. Her
fingers began to undo the buttons of his shirt. She took the scarf which
was still draped over his shoulder and placed it over his eyes.
"You've seen enough for now, Michael."
He felt her tongue on his lips, pushing into his mouth. She fucked his
mouth with her tongue, fiercely taking him. She broke the kiss, pulled his
shirt from his pants, undid the remaining buttons, and slid it off his
shoulders and arms, leaving it tangled at his wrists. .
She kissed him again, licking his mouth, his face, his throat, grazing
him with her teeth, rubbing her body against him. She licked his nipples.
It felt wonderful. She bit his left nipple, holding it between her teeth
as she stroked it with her tongue. Michael moaned with the pleasure.
Slowly, gradually, she increased the pressure with her teeth. As she bit
harder, it began to hurt, but the pain only heightened his senses, the
pleasure of her tongue arousing him even more when combined with the pain
her teeth were causing. He tried to understand this, but she stroked his
cock though his pants and he lost all ability to think. Her teeth
tightened on his nipple.
She released his nipple and his cock. "Owww," he cried as the blood
rushed back into his nipple.
"Now, Michael," she said, and she left him. There were endless seconds
of silence. Then he heard the hum of the vibrator.
"I'm lying on the floor in front of you, rubbing the vibrator over the
lips of my pussy. I'm going to cum very soon Michael. I'm going to put it
in my pussy and slowly fuck my pussy with it. Think about that Michael.
Think about what you're not doing."
"Please. . ."
Gwen ignored him. "I'm sliding it into me now. I'm very wet, very hot.
Slowly fucking with the dildo. Could you do that, Michael, would you have
the self control to fuck me slowly like this, to make it last?"
"Oh, god, yes. . ."
"I'm going to rub it over my clit. Oh. OH. OHHHH. God Michael I'm
cumming. Cumming hard. OHHH!!"
Michael listened to her cries as she came. He was so close to the edge
himself, he felt like the slightest touch would make him explode. His
nipple still tingled where she had tormented it with her mouth. It felt so
alive, so good,
"Oh, god, Michael. I'm going to cum again. Get on your knees and lick
my pussy."
Michael was on his knees in a heartbeat. She ripped the blindfold from
his eyes, grabbed his head, pulled it between her legs. He looked at her
face. Pure abandon, pure ecstasy. The power of her sexuality was
unbelievable. He licked her lips as she thrust the vibrating dildo in and
out of her cunt, rolling her hips. Her licked her lips, sucked them. Her
clit was engorged and exposed. He circled it with his tongue, caressed it
gently.
Gwen moaned. "Ohhh yesss."
He increased the pressure with his tongue, drawing her clit and her
labia between his lips, rubbing her clit with his tongue. He flicked her
clit with his tongue and she screamed, wrapped her legs around him, fucked
his face and came again, screaming and moaning.
Drenched with her passion, Michael lay between her thighs. Rock hard.
Desperate for release. Gwen squirmed against him, making contented noises
as she came down. Finally, she stirred. "Time for your punishment,
Michael."
"Huh," he muttered.
"Michael, have you forgotten why we are here? Now, get on your feet."
"But, Gwen . . ." A sharp slap on the face interrupted him.
"Now, Michael, you've been doing very well. Don't screw it up now."
This was getting to be too much. A little slap here and there wasn't
too bad, and he did love making Gwen cum, but at some point there had to be
something for him. Maybe he should just put a stop to this . . .
His train of though was lost when she unbuckled his belt, unzipped his
fly and slid his pants down over his hips. "Take off your shoes and step
out of those pants." He obeyed gladly. He stood in front of her wearing
only his socks and his bikini briefs.
"Oh, my," she said. "Such sexy underwear. You were hoping to get lucky
tonight, weren't you."
"Yes."
Gwen let out a deep breath. Exasperation. She glared at him.
He thought this business with addressing her properly was foolish, but
he responded, "Yes, Ms."
A smile rewarded him. She caressed his cheek. "And your poor cock is
so swollen. Did making me come do that to you?"
"Yes, Ms." "Or was it the kissing, or the slaps on your face, or maybe
the way I played with your nipple?" She stroked his tormented nipple with
her fingernail as she said this.
He gasped. "Yes, Ms."
"And this does look uncomfortable, confined like this." She stroked his
cock, causing it to swell even more.
"Hmm," she cooed. "Let's see what we have here." She pulled the bikini
down and his cock sprang free. His balls were still confined by the
bikini, but the tightness in testicles only increased the tension in his
cock. It was pointing straight out at her. She stroked the underside
lightly with the tip of her finger and it throbbed, pointing higher. "Oh
my, how nice that is. You know, the sight of a stiff cock makes me horny.
I'm going to need to cum again. Maybe I'll even want to fuck you. But we
have other things to tend to first, don't we?"
Michael groaned.
She pulled his bikini down to his feet and he stepped out of it. Gwen
stroked his thigh. "Move your feet wider apart." She continued to stoke
his thigh as he moved his feet apart. She walked around behind him and
stroked his ass. Her fingertip stroked his ass hole. "Oohh," he gasped.
"Hmm, you like that don't you?"
"Yes, Ms."
"Ever had a woman stick her finger in your ass while you fucked her?"
"No, Ms."
"But I bet you'd like that wouldn't you?"
"Yes, Ms., I think so."
"How about sticking a dildo in your ass while she sucked your cock?"
"Oh god."
"Michael! You naughty boy. Is that a yes?"
"No, Ms."
"But I bet you'd like that, too, wouldn't you?"
Michael hesitated, unsure.
"Let's find out," Gwen said, and she took the anal plug she had put on
the bed earlier. "We need to lubricate this Michael." Gwen took the plug
and slid it between her pussy lips and into her. "Hmm, that's nice, but
this is for you." Gwen removed the glistening plug form her pussy and ran
it over his lips. "Lick it Michael. Suck it. Taste me. Make it nice and
wet."
He closed his eyes, trying not to think about how this thing looked like
a cock, concentrating instead on the taste of Gwen. "Good boy. I think
it's time for this again," she said as she put the scarf back over his
eyes. He felt the plug teasing his anus, then pressing gently. He felt the
tip slide past his sphincter. His cock responded, stiffening and
throbbing. "Hmm," Gwen said. "Mikey likes it!"
Slowly, she drew his cock between her lips as she slid the plug all the
way into his asshole. "Ohhhh," he moaned. The feeling was incredible. He
was ready to explode. She took her mouth from his cock and it pointed
straight up. Throbbing.
He stood there blindfolded, an anal plug buried inside him, his cock
throbbing. Endless seconds passed.
"Gwen?"
He felt a sharp sting on his ass. "Oww," he cried.
"Ms. Huber."
"Ms. Huber." He repeated. "What . . ."
"Punishment time Michael. Have you ever had your ass whipped by a
woman? Or been spanked?"
"No, Ms."
"First time for a few things tonight, Michael. You know, for many men,
being naked and blindfolded and having a woman whip their ass makes them
hard. I wonder if that will happen for you. So, we will wait until your
cock calms down, and then I will whip your ass."
"Please, Ms. . . ."
"Michael, you may not ask for anything. You may not ask me not to whip
you, and you may not ask me to let you cum. We have already established
that you are to be punished, and that I may or may not permit you to cum.
There is nothing to discuss. You may, however, ask me to leave right now,
and I will, and you will never see me again. Michael, you have had only a
taste of the intense pleasure I am capable of giving you, and I can assure
you, if I leave now you will lose any hope of getting more of that
pleasure."
His cock was still hard. He wanted it to stay hard so she wouldn't whip
his ass, and he wanted it to soften so he could get this overwith. He
wasn't sure what he wanted. He thought about telling her to leave, but
deep down, he knew he needed to experience what she could give him. She
even implied that he might see her again. He wondered about that, wondered
if he would want that, wondered if it would involve punishment or just
incredible sex.
He felt her fingertip stroke the underside of his cock. "You were
getting soft," she said. "That would be too easy. Let's make you wait
awhile longer."
"Oh god," he groaned as he felt his cock stiffen again. The tension,
the tightness in his cock and balls, heightened by the plug in his ass, was
incredible. If he came now, it would be mind blowing.
How many strokes of her whip would he have to take? He wondered if she
would tell him. How hard would they be? The first stroke had surprised
him more than anything. It was difficult to remember if it was really that
hard or if it was more the shock and surprise that got to him.
"How many . . ."
CRACK! The whip stung his left cheek. That stroke was harder than the
last. "Michael, poor baby, you don't learn. No questions. Yes, you want
to know how many strokes your ass will feel, and whether it's worth it for
what you hope will follow. But, doesn't the not knowing make it even
better, even more exciting? And, that one doesn't count; that one was for
trying to ask a question when I told you not to."
CRACK!! The whip struck again, still harder, this time on the right
cheek. "See, Michael, it does make your cock hard. He felt her hand
encircle his cock and realized it was rock hard again. He felt her lips on
his, her tongue forcing its way into his mouth. He opened his mouth to
her, letting her capture his tongue with hers, encircling it, swirling
around it. He moaned softly into her mouth as her hand stroked his cock.
She broke the kiss. "Such a good boy you are. Learning to receive my
kisses passively. And your cock responds nicely to my whip. You would be
a good lover, Michael, or a good slave. Maybe both."
Slave? Would he be a good slave? No, all he really wanted now was to
fuck her . . .
CRACK. Not as hard as the last, or maybe he was getting used to it. He
really didn't want to think that.
CRACK!! Harder, stinging the back of his thighs, just below the last
stroke on his ass. She was trying to keep him off guard, surprising him.
Kissing, whipping, harder, then softer, then stroking his cock. It was
working.
"I need to cum again, Michael. Watching your hard cock respond to me
inflames me. I need to suck you and fuck you and cum. So, I need to
finish your punishment. Five strokes, plus the one that didn't count. I
wasn't going to count the first one, but I will because I need to fuck you
now."
Fuck, he thought. Oh god, yes, please, fuck me, Michael thought. He
tried to remember. How many more strokes? Two more? One more?
CRACK!!! The whip landed right on top of the last stroke, burning.
"Owww." Michael winced. The hardest stroke of all.
The blindfold was ripped from his eyes, and he saw the passion in her
eyes. She led him, dazed, to the bed, pushed him down on his back. He
winced again when his sore ass touched the cool sheets. Before he realized
what was happening, Gwen snapped a handcuff onto his left wrist and
fastened the other end to the bed post. She took his tie, wrapped it
around his right wrist, and fastened it to the other bedpost.
Gwen climbed onto the bed between his legs. She was exquisite, moving
like a cat, crawling, teasing. His cock was hard against his belly,
pointing up. She ran her finger along the underside. Then, she dragged
her tongue up the underside of his cock. It throbbed. Michael groaned
again, close to cumming, the hardness, the tightness in his cock and balls
intensified by the plug which was still buried inside him. She drew him
between her lips, sucking gently.
"Ohhh," Michael moaned, the pleasure of her mouth so intense after the
pain of her whip.
Gwen let him slide from her mouth. He watched her looking at this
throbbing cock. He was on the edge, ready to explode. She moved up on
him, kissing his belly, his chest. She rubbed against his leg as she
kissed his nipples. She gently licked the nipple she had tormented before.
She moved higher, kissing his neck, biting, nibbling. She kissed his ear,
bit his earlobe, put her tongue in his ear. "Ohhhh," he cried. She rubbed
her cunt against his cock. He moved his hips, trying to position the head
of his cock between her lips. He felt her heat and her wetness. He needed
to fuck her.
Gwen kissed his ear again, sucking it, running her tongue around it, and
whispered, "Whipping you, sucking you, has made me so hot Michael. I need
to take you. Now."
"Ohhh yess," he moaned.
Gwen moved up, rubbing her cunt over his belly and chest, leaving a
trail of wetness. She grabbed the headboard, positioned herself above his
face and lowered herself into his mouth.
"Eat me Michael. Fuck me with your tongue."
Michael shoved his tongue into her and she moaned. Gwen reached down,
rubbing her clit as he tongue-fucked her. "Ohhh," she cried. "Yess!"
Michael was on fire, grinding his hips, humping the air, trying to cum.
Gwen raised herself off his face, slid two fingers into her pussy,
moaning softly. She lowered herself onto his mouth again. "Eat me
Michael. Lick my clit. Suck it."
He ran his tongue over her swollen clit, licking, sucking, squirming,
desperately needing to cum.
His tongue moved faster, harder, flicking her clit. "YES!! she
screamed. "OHH YESSS!!" and she came, grinding against him, fucking his
face, shaking, moaning, screaming.
And then it was over. Gwen shuddered once, then twice, in post orgasmic
after shocks, and then relaxed. Her entire weight on his face, Michael was
barely able to breathe, but with every breath he was drenched in the scent
of her womanhood, immersed in the power of her sex. And he needed to cum.
Gwen climbed off him, grabbed a corner of the sheet and wiped the juices
from her pussy and began to get dressed.
"Gwen," he began, "Please. . ."
For the final time, she interrupted him. "Michael, I decided not to let
you cum." She took a pen and piece of paper from the desk and wrote as she
continued. "That is the last part of your punishment. But I am leaving
you my phone number. I'd like you to call me next time you're in town.
Now that your punishment is over, I promise you everything that was denied
you tonight. And more. More than you can imagine." She slid into her
panties, her skirt.
"God, Gwen." She pulled on her blouse, stuffed her bra into her
briefcase, gathered up her toys, except for the plug and the handcuffs
which she left where they were. "Denying you now will make it harder for
you to get me out of your mind, make you think about what you need, make
you hunger for the next time, make the next time that much better."
She picked up her jacket and headed toward the door. "Oh, you may need
this," she said tossing the key to the handcuffs toward him, and she was
gone.
The key landed on the bed next to him but he couldn't reach it. He took
a deep breath, dropped his head back on the bed, closed his eyes. He was
exhausted he realized, unable to think, unable to even think about whether
he would call her next time he was in town.
He needed to get free. He tried to work on the tie, but it was tied
very tightly near his wrist in a place he couldn't reach. The he realized
that he could simply lift the handcuff up over the bedpost. With that hand
free, he untied the tie from the other bedpost. His other hand was now
free, though the tie was still tied to his wrist. He picked up the key to
remove the handcuff, then put it back down.
Michael picked up the phone and dialed. A soft voice answered, "Hello?"
"Hi baby."
"Michael!" Veronica called happily. "I was hoping you'd call when you
got to your hotel. Where are you? How are you?"
"I'm fine. Still here, though."
"Get stuck for dinner after your meeting, darling?"
"No. Missed my plane. Waiting for my call?"
"Uh, huh."
"What are you wearing, Veronica?"
"Black teddy. The one you love so much. I wanted to be wearing it when
you called. And what are you wearing Michael?"
Some times she told him what she was really wearing, sometimes she just
made something up as part of the fantasy. But he knew she did like to
dress up in something sexy for their phone sessions. It didn't matter,
though. In his mind he saw her in bed wearing the black teddy. Michael
took a deep breath and decided to tell her.
"I'm naked, Veronica."
"Hmmm. Good."
"My cock is hard as a rock."
"Hmm. I think I'm going to like this."
"I have a tie tied around one wrist and a handcuff on the other. They
were connected to the bedpost a few minutes ago."
"Oh, Michael. How wicked. I had no idea you were into such games."
"Neither did I."
"Hmm. I think this is going to be fun. Even more fun when I see you in
the flesh and we can play some new games."
"Oh god, Veronica, I never knew you were into such things, either."
"Well, darling, you don't know everything about me, do you?"
Michael smiled. "No, I guess not. I love you Veronica, and discovering
new things about you is wonderful."
"Hmm. And so, you are naked and hard. You didn't cum, did you? And
you need to?"
"Yes."
"Oohh I do like this. Michael, I want you to tell me all about it. But
first, I want you to handcuff yourself to the bedpost again. With one hand
cuffed, and the other hand on the phone, I can be sure you won't touch
yourself, you won't cum until I tell you to."
"God, Veronica, you are wicked."
"Uh huh. Now tell me your story."
It was going to be along night, he realized, and probably quite a while
before he got the release he desperately needed. "Well. . ." he said, and
began to tell Veronica the story of the woman at the third counter.
END
Copyright Tiramisu 1999.
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