by Rebel Rose
“Don’t be. I love that sound. It turns me the fuck on because it means you’re obeying and taking my cock deep.” His hand pulls my head toward his dick. “Do it again. And don’t stop because you gag.”
I take him into my mouth again, and Tristan uses his grip on my hair to control the pace and depth of my mouth sliding over his cock. I unsuccessfully fight the urge to gag and warm tears trickle down my face until they drop from my chin to the floor.
This man is literally fucking my mouth.
He sucks air in through his teeth. “This is better than I dared to hope for, bebelle.”
Bebelle. I hear him call me doll, and I instantly want to please him.
And I have no idea why.
I suck harder and cup his balls with my hand, alternating a light squeeze-and-release motion, rolling the firm spheres between my fingers.
“Oh, fuck that feels good.”
Everything between my navel and knees involuntarily tightens and twitches and tingles when he praises my oral skills. I squeeze my thighs together when I feel the slickness growing between my legs, and the realization hits me: sucking his dick is turning me on. And the more he likes it, the more I enjoy doing it.
“Fuck, I don’t want you to stop, but I’m going to come before I want to if I keep letting you do that.”
He releases the back of my head and pulls his dick out of my mouth. Copious amounts of saliva drip from my mouth and chin as well as his dick. But it’s unnecessary. I can already tell that my pussy is wet for him.
“On the bed. Hands and knees.”
I wipe my mouth and chin as I rise from the floor. I move toward the bed, but he grasps my wrists, pulling me so we’re face-to-face. His hands move up, cradling the sides of my face, and he kisses the wetness on my cheeks from my eyes. “I love tears when they’re the right kind.”
“These are the right kind?”
“Yes.”
He releases me, and I crawl on my all fours onto the bed. “You’ve pleased me, bebelle, but I still need to spank you for trying to leave me.”
I liked the spanking he gave a few days ago. I won’t mind another one.
I place my open palms on the mattress and slide them forward, lowering my head and leaving my ass in the air. “I’m ready to count for you, Master.”
A loud groan rumbles from his chest. “Perfect answer.”
The mattress dips when Tristan climbs onto the bed behind me. “You liked it when I spanked you, didn’t you?”
“Yes, Master.”
“I liked it too. A lot. And I’m going to like it this time too.” His palm flattens on my butt cheek, and he rubs it in a circular motion before digging his fingertips into my flesh. “Your safe word is rouge.”
“Rouge?” Odd choice.
“It means red, and that’s the color your ass is going to be when I finish spanking you.” Shit. “Don’t say the safe word unless you can’t take more. Understood?”
“Yes, Master.”
“Are you ready?”
“Yes, Master.”
I try to convince my muscles to relax, especially my glutes, but the fuckers won’t obey. They have a mind of their own, and they don’t appreciate my trying to fool them into thinking that nothing is about to happen.
I jolt when Tristan’s hand comes down hard on my left cheek. And the intensity gets away with me; it’s so much more painful than the first swat he gave me over the dining room table. “One, Master.”
My body is most definitely not relaxed when the second swat comes. Fuck, it stings my skin. “Two, Master.”
I press my face into the bed and bite the comforter, preparing for the third. And I jerk hard when Tristan’s palm lands on my ass. “Uhhh.”
“Count, bebelle or we start over.”
“Three, Master.”
Oh my God. How many of these am I getting? He didn’t tell me.
Four. Five. Six. Seven.
Rouge. Rouge. Rouge. I bite the comforter to keep the word from rolling off of my tongue.
Ten. I bet that I’m getting ten.
Hot tears sting my eyes and mucus rushes to my nose. Shit, I don’t think that I can take three more painful swats like these.
But what if I’m wrong and he intends on giving me more than ten? What if his favorite number is twelve? Or fifteen? Or what if there isn’t a magic number. What if he keeps doing this until I collapse?
I don’t know what he wants from me.
My sharp inhalation is unintended, as is the sob that follows, and I press my face into the comforter harder. I concentrate on inhaling and exhaling slowly while he finishes this.
I squeeze my eyes shut and imagine myself anyplace except here. But it doesn’t help when the next swat lands on my cheek.
Eight. Nine.
Ten. It has to be ten. I don’t have it in me to take more.
“Ten, Master.” A loud sob escapes my lungs.
“That was the last one, bebelle.”
My body collapses on the bed, my trembling extremities giving out beneath me. I’m out of breath. My muscles are jelly. The whole thing couldn’t have lasted more than a few minutes, but it feels like I’ve just finished running a long marathon that went on for hours. I don’t have the strength to do anything but lie beneath him like a lush.
He climbs over me, his front pressed to my back, and kisses the back of my neck. Chills erupt over my entire body. “Do you think that I’m finished with you?”
I know better than to think that. I saw the extent of Tristan’s sexual stamina last night. The man can go and go and go.
“No, Master.”
“Good. Because I’m not.”
Even though my ass is on fire, a surge of happiness blazes through me. I want his mouth on me again. I want more of that gifted tongue licking my pussy, and if I have to endure a hard spanking to get it, I’ll choose that trade-off every time. It’s that good.
His strong hands wrap around my wrists, stretching them outward, and he places my hands on the edge of the mattress. “Hold on to the edge and don’t let go.”
Don’t worry. I’ll have no choice when that magnificent orgasm hits.
He uses his knee to push my thighs apart, and his hips settle between my parted thighs, his erection nudging against my vulnerable entrance as he moves up and down as though teasing me. And not in a good way.
“What are you doing?”
“Shush, bebelle. You’ll like it. I promise.”
I twist and look at him with a mixture of fear and anger, abandoning my new role of submissive. “I told you no anal.”
“And there’ll be no anal… today.”
There will be none tomorrow or the next day or the next or any day after that.
His hand moves between my legs and strokes my lips, igniting tingles in my core. “Mmm… who does this tight little pussy belong to?”
I step back into my role. “You, Master.”
“Say it.”
“My tight little pussy belongs to you, Master.”
“Yes, it does. You’re mine to play with. I can do anything I want to you. Do you understand?”
“Yes, Master.”
Two fingers slip inside me. “Your pussy is so wet. Is that because you’re a dirty little girl who wants to be fucked?”
His mouth is filthy. I can’t believe that he had the nerve to call my language crass.
“Yes, Master.”
He takes his fingers out of me and uses the lubrication on his fingers to make my folds slick. Preparing me. He’s not going to be tame like he was last night—I’m seeing that in the way he’s talking to me.
And I’m not wrong. He enters me with one powerful thrust, plunging so deep into me that his hard cock hits a bundle of sensitive nerves that can only be located somewhere near my womb. The sudden intrusion is unexpected and sharp. It feels as if he’s trying to split me in half, which prompts a quick gasp from my mouth.
The animal-like growl I hear behind me is unnerving, and yet my body respond
s to it, growing wetter and stretching to accommodate his huge cock as it enters me from behind.
He fucks me brutally. No mercy. And I admit that I scream. Some are elicited by pain, some by pleasure, and the two intertwine until I can’t distinguish between them.
His body lowers and he lies on top of my back, but not with all of his weight. The brunt of it is on one forearm against the mattress while his free arm comes around my body, his hand wrapping around my throat. His fingers press against the vulnerable vein at the side of my neck, holding my life in his hands. And I feel completely controlled by his iron grip.
He presses his mouth against my ear, and the pressure on the side of my neck increases. “I’m going to come inside you, and your pussy is going to take every drop. Do you understand?”
“Yes, Master.” My voice is a strangled whisper.
He pounds into me harder, and the friction of the big head of his cock sliding in and out beneath my pelvic arch increases, hitting a sensitive area in the roof of my pussy perfectly. I can’t recall any man ever doing anything to me that feels this way.
My breath comes faster, shallower, and is constricted. The pleasure I feel is climbing at a rapid pace, and I have this incredible desire for more. “Fuck me harder.”
“Don’t command me,” he growls. “And don’t you dare come until I say that you can.”
“What do you mean don’t come?” I can’t stop an orgasm from happening if he continues doing what he’s doing.
“Fight it, bebelle.”
Fight it? Is he kidding me? I’ve never been able to achieve an orgasm with intercourse, and now that I’m going to he wants to take that away from me. No fucking way. I want this orgasm.
His hand grips my throat tighter. “I’m your Dom, and I decide if and when you get to come.”
I tense my pelvic muscles, but that only manages to make it feel better, bringing me closer to orgasm. “I can’t stop it from happening. I don’t know how to control it.”
He slows his thrusts. “Ride the edge. Don’t give in to it.”
My entire focus is on the friction I’m feeling inside my pussy and not letting those uterine contractions begin; once the first one begins, it’ll be over. I’ll be at the point of no return. And he’ll be displeased with me.
I’m relieved when the heavy feeling inside my core lessens, taking with it the urgency to explode. But it hasn’t gone away entirely. “Please let me come. I’m so close.”
“No. Don’t let it happen until you have my permission.”
His merciless thrusts return, and so does the climbing pleasure. “It’s building again. I can’t stop it.”
“Almost there, bebelle. Hold on a little longer.”
I grip the edge of the mattress and breathe deeply. It’s the only thing that I have total control over right now.
The pressure on the side of my neck increases when he presses his fingers harder and I feel lightheaded, as though I might black out. “Come for me, bebelle. Now.”
He pushes into me as far as he can and groans. “I’m coming so hard inside your tight little pussy.”
The contractions in my pelvis tense and relax around his cock at least a dozen times before dwindling away. It’s over too quickly.
He’s lying on top of my back, his weight holding down my body. I can’t move, but I don’t think that I could even if he weren’t on top of me.
He stays inside me until his softening cock slips out. Once we’re no longer joined, he rolls to his back to lie beside me. “Be at ease, bebelle.”
“Be at ease?”
“It means that you can speak freely. You don’t have to formally address me as Master unless I tell you to resume your submissive role.” He rises and leans over my body to kiss my shoulder. “I don’t usually let my submissive orgasm, but I found out last night that your pussy is heaven when you come around my cock. I couldn’t resist; there’s nothing in the world like it.”
“I didn’t control the orgasm. I just got lucky with the timing.” I might as well tell the truth.
“Thank you for being honest about that.” His hand rubs my back, and it easily glides over my skin thanks to the sweat he deposited there when he was pressed on top of me. “There’s an art to learning how to edge. I’ll teach you how we can control it together.”
“To edge?” Edge is a verb?
“That’s when you build your sexual excitement to the point that you almost come, and then you stop and let it smolder. You deny yourself of an orgasm. After you build and deny several times, your body will explode when you finally do come. The orgasm is incredibly powerful, but it’s time-consuming and takes a ton of patience. And self-restraint. I didn’t have any of those things in me after I saw you on your knees in the submissive position.”
He moves down my body, kissing along my spine, and slides his hand between my legs. “We have nowhere to be. Turn over and spread your legs. We’ll begin your first lesson in edging.”
He wants to teach me how to control my orgasm. Postpone it until it becomes explosive.
I’m okay with that.
Maybe this submissive thing won’t be so bad after all.
2
Tristan Broussard
Her cunt was so tight and slick. My cock was in heaven when I glided in and out of her. She was drenched because of me, because of the desire between us.
Mon bebelle enjoyed our first Dom-sub experience. Maybe as much as I enjoyed it.
Addressing me as Master came with pure ease for her; she was turned on by my dominance. She liked handing over all control to me. And I’m in no way surprised.
Submission can be learned, but for some it happens naturally. Those are the special ones. And mon bebelle is very special. She is my natural submissive. My counterpart. I’m even more sure of that now than I was the first time I saw her.
She is the one.
Mine.
My little submissive wanted my cum. Her greedy pussy clenched and relaxed around my cock over and over, milking every drop from my balls until I had no more to give.
She told me to fuck her harder. A command. It was gratifying but displeasing at the same time. Definitely worthy of another five swats across her ass, but I resisted the urge. Two spankings in such a short time span would probably overwhelm her. And I choose to overwhelm her in a much different way.
I’ve played with her pussy all morning. Rubbed her. Fingered her. Licked her. I’ve brought her to the edge of orgasm many times and then kept her climax at bay. Training her. “Should I let you come this time?”
“Yesss. Pleeease.”
She squeezes her eyes shut when my fingers press harder on the walnut-shaped bundle of nerves inside her pussy. Her breath moves in and out through pursed lips. Desperate to come. All of the signs are there, but she’s fighting it to please me.
“Look at me, bebelle. Eyes on me.”
Eye contact. It’s not something that I’ve demanded from my other submissives. In fact, I didn’t want to look at their faces during sex at all, but Emma Lia isn’t one of my trained subs. Everything about this relationship is going to be different.
She opens her lids, and our eyes connect. Her parted lips and tense facial muscles are a clear indication of the struggle she’s experiencing.
“Come for me, bebelle.” I move my fingers faster and the wet friction sound grows louder. “I want to feel your pussy quiver.”
Her hand comes up and her fingers push into the back of my hair. She pulls my head to hers and our foreheads are pressed together. Her grip is ironclad. It wouldn’t be an easy escape if I tried to get away.
Her pursed lips open and form an O. “Oh… ohhh… ahhh.”
I cover my mouth with hers, devouring her screams, and her entire body is trembling. She nips my bottom lip, and I immediately taste copper. Any other Dom would be furious and probably flog her ass until it welted, but I don’t mind her bite. I’m sort of sick that way.
Her body begins to relax as the orgasm spirals down from i
ts peak. She releases my mouth, and her breathing slows. And my pride swells because I know what kind of breakthrough I’ve just made with her.
She’s still holding the back of my head, and we’re simply looking at each other. No expression. No words. Just eyes on eyes. And there’s something truly penetrating about the way she’s looking at me.
I remove my fingers and bring them to my mouth, sucking them clean while she watches.
She smiles, breaking our staring contest, and her body becomes toneless when her limbs fall to the bed. “I have never experienced anything like that in my life.”
“You liked it?”
“One word can’t describe that. It was agonizing… and astonishing… and amaaazing.”
“I wasn’t exaggerating when I said that edging takes a lot of work and patience when it’s done well.”
“It was done very well. My body is exhausted. I need a nap.”
I look at the clock beside Emma Lia’s bed. “Take a nap if you like. I’ll wake you in a couple of hours, and we’ll go out for a late lunch.”
“You didn’t sleep last night. I know that you must be tired. Stay and nap with me.”
I’m exhausted. Staying in bed with her is tempting as fuck, but this is day one of our Dom-sub relationship. I don’t want to send mixed messages to Emma Lia and cause confusion right off the bat.
“Don’t have time to nap. I have calls to make since I’m not going in to work today.”
“I made you come.”
“You certainly did.”
“I’m owed a key pull.”
As if she needs to remind me. “You are. Would you like to get up and do it now or after you’ve napped?”
“Hmm… I’m so tired. I don’t think that I can get up and do it right now.”
I’m elated that she isn’t jumping out of bed and racing to the box. I’m even more hopeful that I’ll be able to keep her long enough to mold her into what I want, and then she’ll choose to stay of her own accord.
I lightly smack the fleshy part of her hip. “Rest, bebelle. I’ll come back in a couple of hours.”