“Do you agree with your therapist’s assessment?”
“Not entirely. I prefer BDSM simply because I find control the most heady aphrodisiac there is.”
She releases a laborious sigh. “I don’t think I can do this. I’m not sure what you see in me, but I don’t think a submissive is it.”
Despite a veritable arsenal of coercion employed to try and convince the delectable Ms. Beale to join me in a Dominant/submissive relationship, she has chosen not to do so. I find this regrettable in the extreme.
I try not to allow defeat to permeate my smile. “I had you pegged as adventurous, fearless—a risk-taker. Someone who wanted to explore her submissive nature in a more controlled environment. Was I wrong about you?”
I never show my true feelings to anyone other than close friends and family, particularly submissives, but I am compelled to allow Keisha to see just how vulnerable I am where she is concerned. Manipulative? Yes, but desperate times...and all that.
“I want you, Keisha,” I say, my voice raw with need.
That simple statement galvanizes her into action much quicker than I anticipated, but I’m always ready for the unexpected. She propels herself into my arms and I catch her effortlessly, molding her body to mine without hesitation. Our lips lock at the same time my hands and her legs clamp us together, and I stumble backward to the bed, knowing from experience exactly where it is in the center of the room.
The erection I’ve been sporting since breakfast feels like it has its own heartbeat, as the friction created from us grinding against one another on the bed becomes a riot of sensation way beyond what we experienced the week before. I don’t recall the last time I enjoyed kissing a woman this much, and the greed with which we consume each other verges on desperation. Our hands reciprocate exploration of our bodies despite the clothing which makes it difficult to do so.
Impatience makes me pull her up onto her knees in the middle of the bed as we begin to disrobe one another without speaking. Words are not required even as we reluctantly stop kissing between rough caresses and eager contortions to undress.
I’m anxious to enter her body without my usual slow perusal first, but I can’t refrain any longer. I’ve waited a week to be here, and now that she’s offering, I simply cannot refuse.
Reaching into the drawer of the bedside table, I retrieve a condom and raise myself above her to slide it on. Keisha’s eyes widen as she takes in my erection, but I don’t give her a chance to protest its size. With one yank, her panties are off and I’m inside the tightest, wettest, most delicious snatch known to man.
A simultaneous, harmonious grunt is all that either of us can manage when I enter her. I take a few guttural breaths, blinking to focus on her face before I’m able to mutter the words, “How long’s… it been… for you?”
Despite how tight she is, I feel like this woman’s pussy was especially made for me. She is thoroughly wet, but her cunt is squeezing my cock so hard, my throat feels constricted. This is not going to be a languorous marathon as I originally intended, it’s going to be more like a fucking sprint. And I don’t do puns.
“Three and a half… years.”
Looks like I’m not the only one having problems speaking. After three practice strokes, I begin to move with alacrity. When Ms. Beale emerges from this bed, she’s going to be so thoroughly fucked, she won’t want another dick within six feet of her personal space, let alone near her pussy. That is, unless it’s mine.
I thought six months on my part was a dry spell, but this woman has been without for almost four years. I feel like it’s my duty to make this encounter the best she’s ever had, and then some.
As I ramp up into cruising speed, she clasps my forearms and attempts to hold on, but there is no purchase she’s able to find against the onslaught. Somehow, though, she manages to move beneath me in some semblance of rhythm. Her eyes are closed, but I keep mine open, watching as her visage changes with every thrust, going from mild discomfort to rapturous wonder. Tears seep from the corners of her eyes, which concerns me greatly, but if I’m hurting her, I simply can’t stop. When I threaten to ease up, she continues at the pace I’ve set, stubbornly refusing to slow down.
The noises she’s making don’t sound as if they are noises of pain. They are groans of pure pleasure. She sounds as if she’s sobbing, but these are expressions of pleasure she’s having trouble articulating. I have not worked this hard during the sex act in years, but my body yearns to fuck Ms. Beale into oblivion. Hence, I’ve pulled out all the stops and my moves are not the simple up and down of missionary position. I’m giving her the signature Tristan White moves that submissives don’t usually get unless they’re superb.
Only one other submissive affected me in this way. I must remember Keisha is not yet my submissive. A Dominant can only hope.
I can feel her tightening toward release, which hastens me toward my own. I slow the momentum and take her head roughly between my palms and kiss her lips hard, then down her jaw and to her throat, while continuing to move greedily into her willing body. Never slowing, I prop myself up on my elbows and using both thumbs, encircle her dark nipples until she squirms as if she can’t take it anymore.
As I feel the infinitesimal constrictions around me, I know she is building quickly toward orgasm. I thrust with an abandon I’ve not experienced since Aimee, and briefly I feel a modicum of guilt that I’m thinking of another submissive while fucking this gorgeous woman.
I kiss her again, this time sucking her tongue deep into my mouth. When I feel her muscles quivering beneath me, I know she is about to explode. Her orgasm is of an intensity that causes her to emit a savage high-pitched scream and I encourage it.
“That’s right. Give it up, Keisha.”
She clamps her legs tight around my ass and milks my final thrusts. My orgasm is sedate compared to hers, but extraordinarily satisfying to say the least. I am at such a loss, all I can do is grunt in appreciation.
We’re both wearing our perspiration like a body-builder wears baby oil, and neither of us can speak for the few moments while our heart rates slow down and we can catch our breath.
Keisha speaks first through her panting.
“Wow… That… Just wow!”
Careful to keep my weight from crushing her slight frame, I hold myself over her as if in a pushup, our foreheads touching, and I’m grinning like there’s no tomorrow.
Though I’m loath to do so, I ease out and raise my torso. A stream of tears are running from the sides of her eyes, and I don’t know what comes over me, but I gently kiss her tears away.
“Open your eyes,” I whisper. She opens them partway, as if she’s now embarrassed of what we’ve just done. “I’m sorry if I was too rough, but you’re so out of practice. Are you in pain?”
When she doesn’t respond immediately, I’ll admit it freaks me out a bit. To keep myself busy and to avoid saying the wrong thing, I dispose of the condom, before I roll back onto the bed and hover over her again, smoothing her damp tendrils of hair away from her face. Finally she answers.
“No, I’m not in any pain.”
“Then why were you crying?”
She ponders my question briefly, and I know she’s trying to figure out what to say that won’t freak us both out.
“I must’ve gotten sweat in my eyes.” Her tone is nonchalant, but a sniffle and an involuntary, shuddering breathing spasm tell me otherwise.
I press my lips to her forehead and pull her into my arms. She buries her head in my chest, and I hold her until she’s calmed down, yet again, to the point of sleep.
She’s going to be sore if her tightness was any indication of the disuse of muscles engaged during sexual activity. I’m delighted that she hasn’t been used by many men. Selfish prick that I am, I prefer relatively inexperienced submissives who don’t have pre-conceived expectations that I can mold to my own preferences. If she pleases me, I will move heaven and earth to please her in return. I’ve just never been one to share,
or to blithely accept someone else’s conditioned responses to sexual stimuli.
As Keisha naps, I move quickly to gather a towel and the already warm massage oils from the ensuite. If I’m going to woo this girl into becoming my submissive, I need to go for broke with her. My ball sac tightens when I get a glimpse of her olive skin where she lays face down on the bed just as I left her. I look down to see that I’m already semi-erect and will myself to behave. For now.
I pour a quarter-sized circle of oil into my palm, rub my hands together and then begin to massage Keisha’s back and shoulders. When she speaks, I know she’s awake.
“Mmm, you really know how to pamper a girl, Mr. White.”
“That would be part of my duty as your Dom,” I say, as I knead the knot of muscle on her slender shoulders. “Everyone focuses on the role-playing, but a good Dom wouldn’t put any more on you than you can bear.” I press kisses over the places I just massaged. “And I… am a good Dom.”
“I’m sure you are.”
I take advantage of her preoccupation with the sensation and work my way down her lower back until I reach her firm gluteus maximus. I am a big guy, and my large hands don’t quite cover what’s in her trunk, but it isn’t obscenely large, like say, a certain rapper friend of Darnelle’s I know. Hers is rounded and beautiful given her flawless skin.
“You have a beautiful, spankable ass, Keisha. And your skin is a gorgeous, warm shade of caramel, like the undertone of a Nicoise olive. My favorite.” I know I’m taking a gamble, but my inclinations don’t allow me to exercise any self-control, and I give in to the urge to spank her. Cupping my hand slightly, I bring it down onto her delectable ass.
She gasps and turns to scold me, I’m sure, but she moans as she stares and blinks at me, as if she doesn’t understand why. When she finally speaks, her demand takes me by surprise.
“Okay,” she says. “Do that again. Just like that but no harder.”
I narrow my eyes at her. “You’re quite demanding. You sure you’ve never been a Domme?”
“No, but I’d like you to do that again,” she says with a grin.
I’m secretly relieved that she took her first spanking so well, without calling it weird. It turns me on that she’s open to a bit of play.
“As you wish, Ms. Beale.”
I smooth my hand from the middle of her back down to her ass where I circle the opposite cheek and then whack it much the same as I did the other side. Then I squeeze and massage her supple flesh.
“You sound like Westley,” she says almost conversationally in her relaxed state.
I stop kneading her thighs.
“Who the fuck is Westley?” I say, annoyed that she would talk about another guy in my Grotto.
“Haven’t you ever seen the movie The Princess Bride?” She says, appalled.
“No.” I begin anew kneading her bottom in a pattern that consists of massaging, circling, and then smacking her until the skin of her ass is rosy and slightly warm to the touch. I can see that her sex is engorged and she’s wet. My cock is ecstatic. As am I.
I breathe in her natural scent mingled with the oils I’ve massaged into her skin, then I move to cover her body with mine. My erection lodges comfortably in her ass crack as if it’s found its true north. I move the hair away from her ear and kiss a trail from her ear down her delicate throat.
“I know you want me to fuck you again,” I say between kisses.
I balance precariously over her on one arm, my fingers ghosting over her waist, down to her hips, and back up to her waist. As I Push her knees apart with mine, her breath hitches.
My erection knows exactly where it wants to be and slides into a rear entry between her legs. I smooth my hand from her thigh and back over her ass, where I caress it briefly before trailing my hand between her legs. Yes. There’s nothing like the silky smoothness of a woman’s natural lubrication.
I think briefly of slathering it over my cock and impaling her beautiful ass, but that would really send her running and screaming. Besides, it would also be the height of disrespect to any woman being introduced to the lifestyle. A good Dom always conditions the ass with a butt plug and plenty of lube before going full out into anal sex. Not only would it be extremely painful, but it would be extremely rude.
Instead, I snake my arm under her torso and pull her onto her knees. I’m impressed that she’s not asking a ton of questions about what I’m about to do to her. I pat her glutes to indicate that she’s to wait in that position until I retrieve a few things to make this round infinitely more interesting. I place the items on the bed near her head so she can see what I’m doing.
She’ll recognize the sleep mask I bought at her store. I also place two lengths of black ribbon and a condom there, as well. I move back into place over her, shifting my weight onto my knees, keeping her pinned beneath me.
I cover her back with my chest again and whisper, “Will you trust me to make you feel good again, Keisha?”
“Yes,” she says with no hesitation.
Someone is greedy for me now, but all I say is, “Good.”
I tie her outstretched hands to the iron filigree headboard with the ribbons. Once that’s done, I place the mask over her eyes, explaining the reasoning behind my actions. “Tactile senses are enhanced when other senses are taken away. Removing one will do for now. It will force you to concentrate on those that remain.”
She squirms in anticipation, and I laugh. “All in due time, Ms. Beale.”
I rip the foil, toss the wrapper and roll the condom onto me, and align myself with her dripping sex.
“I’m going to fuck you like this,” I say and cup both her breasts, holding her in place. I slide into her until her body resists, then pull back and still.
“Feel what I’m doing to you,” I whisper, hoping my words and tone intersperse just the right amount of seduction. “And remember it.”
I retreat from the snugness within her until only the tip of me remains, yet I can feel her clenching as if she doesn’t want me to go.
I reach around her waist and down to circle her clit with my fingers and she jerks from the contact.
“You’re so ready. I like that very much.” I say this against her skin, in the exact places where my lips and tongue were just seconds before, knowing that breathing against the stimulated skin carries a sensation of its own.
I nuzzle behind her ear as I continue to use her own lubrication to massage concentric circles on her most sensitive flesh. She joins me by commencing a grind of her own forward against my fingers then backward against my cock. She does this with such abandon and without any shame that her sexuality has taken over, demanding a release that she will not be denied. Endorphins will do that shit to a person, and I’m inordinately pleased at her response to such intense sexual stimuli.
“That’s it,” I say, with a mixture of both command and encouragement. I insert two fingers inside her, stroking her G-spot, knowing that my concentration here will elicit her release quickly and efficiently. She cums all over my hand and moans so loudly I’d be concerned the neighbors might hear her if I weren’t so confident that the soundproofing installed in the walls of this room wasn’t doing its job.
I re-enter her on the heels of her orgasm, and begin a rhythm meant to exact every ounce of pleasure from her supreme responsiveness. She is exactly what I’ve needed, a relative blank slate sexually that I can train to respond in the way I desire. She moans again and I cover her mouth with the hand she came all over seconds ago.
Surprisingly, she darts her tongue out and tastes the saltiness of her juices, and it turns me on that she doesn’t find it distasteful.
“Good, huh?” I retrieve my hand and lick the rest of her essence from my fingers. “Mmm. When I’m done here, I’m going to eat you up. I might even fuck your mouth while I’m eating you,” I say, between thrusts.
Keisha makes a guttural sound and I cover her mouth again with my hand. She bites my fingers. I hiss and she releases them.
<
br /> “You sure you’ve never been a Domme?” I rasp against her ear. My own words arouse me to the point of increased tempo, and I go as deep as her petite body allows me. Employing the Tristan White signature move, I circle my hips and move into her with an ardor I haven’t experienced in years. After more than a couple dozen of these moves, I feel a quivering from Keisha which clues me in that she’s nearing orgasm again.
I halt mid wind-up. “I don’t want you to come yet.”
“Please.” Withheld orgasms will make the proudest woman beg.
“I want you to remember this as you think about my offer.” I move deep inside her again and stop.
“Please, Tristan.”
“What do you want, Keisha?” She groans in reply and I move within her again. “Huh? Tell me.”
“I want you . . . to make me come,” she whimpers.
“Your wish. My command.” I continue the excruciating rhythmic pace, re-doubling the intense, punishing assault on her severely underutilized body. I can feel how close she is to the culmination of that acute crescendo of sensation once again.
“Let go, Keisha.” My words ignite a powerful orgasm within her that will not be denied. Her body convulses as she comes setting off a chain reaction in me. I execute a few more frenetic thrusts and ejaculate, shouting incoherently and burying my face in her luscious hair.
I breathe hard against her neck. “If damn-near vanilla is like this, I’d love to see what total power exchange is like for us.” I slide the blindfold off her eyes, release the ribbons from her wrists, and pull out of her. Rolling her with me, we collapse onto the bed. I embrace her, holding her close against my chest. Her entire body is like so much putty as she lies in my arms with a look of utter astonishment on her lovely face.
CHAPTER SEVEN
We shower together in my Grotto’s ensuite, another wholly uncharacteristic thing I’m doing with Ms. Beale. I observe Keisha as the water sluices over her olive skin. She doesn’t seem at all coy or shy about her unclothed state, which pleases me. She has to do some form of exercise on a regular basis, because her musculature is firm, yet her skin is soft and smooth to the touch.
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