by Ashe Barker, Lily Harlem, Katy Swann, Wendi Zwaduk, Lucy Felthouse, Dolly Watt
Smiling, she moved so her bottom was on the edge of the mattress and her legs were draped over Tristan’s shoulders. “Is that okay, Sir?” she asked.
“Yes, that’s good. Very good. I can see you, smell you and taste you very easily in this position. Are you ready, little subbie?”
“Sir, I am always ready for you.”
She suspected he hadn’t meant to, but he let out a quiet chuckle, then quickly hid it by burying his face between her legs. Immediately, all thoughts of…well…anything, disappeared and Jayme simply enjoyed what her husband’s talented tongue was doing.
First, Tristan licked up all of the copious juices she’d produced since they’d started fooling around. He didn’t seem to mind that it was a never-ending task—that each swipe of his tongue, each scrape of his stubble against her skin, each huff of warm breath on her sensitive flesh just made more slickness issue forth. He licked, nibbled and sucked at her labia and clit until she was driven half out of her mind with desperation to come.
“Sir,” she eventually choked out, unable to take any more. “Please, Sir, may I come?”
“Not just yet, little subbie,” he replied. “If I can’t spank you, I’m sure as hell going to tease you and make you bloody wait.”
Fucking hell…this lack of spanking may just be the end of me.
Out loud, she said, “Yes, Sir.” No sense in riling him further, especially since she was already teetering on the very edge, clinging on with her fingernails, and if she came without permission she had no idea what he’d do. Normally he’d whack her backside until sitting down was uncomfortable for a week, but now…who knew?
Gripping the duvet so tightly it made her hands ache, she hoped like hell she could hang on…just a little bit longer.
Tristan, however, seemed determined that she wouldn’t hang on. While his right hand rested on top of her leg, he was making use of his left—more successfully this time. As he tormented her clit, pulling out all the moves she liked best, he pushed two fingers inside her, and, slightly awkwardly, maneuvered them to press against her G-spot.
Damn it! Jayme’s eyes rolled back in her head, then she squeezed her lids tightly shut. Clit and G-spot at the same time? Why was he so determined to get her into trouble for coming without permission when he couldn’t punish her? God, he wasn’t planning to start tallying up all the spankings he owed her, was he? Christ, if he did that between now and whenever he was ready to administer them, she’d be owed so many that when he dished them out she wouldn’t be comfortable sitting down for months. Especially if he brought out the big guns—the whip, the belt, the tawse.
Her entire body clenched just thinking about it.
“Hey,” Tristan warned, pulling away from her cunt and sinking his teeth into her inner thigh. “Not yet.”
“No, Sir,” she squeaked, even as endorphins transformed the pain in her thigh into delicious pleasure. “Not yet.”
His fingertips pressed harder into the spongy bundle of nerves inside her pussy as he resumed his blissful torment of her clit. He rubbed and stroked, rolled and pinched, licked and sucked, nibbled and nipped.
On and on he went, keeping her teetering, so very close to coming, so close it fucking hurt. Her clit throbbed. To Jayme it felt like it was the size of a damn golf ball, and her pussy lips were so swollen that she couldn’t even articulate what they felt like. Just that she imagined they would burst if she wasn’t allowed to come soon. Very. Bloody. Soon.
In her head she whimpered, whined and begged. Pleaded. Please, Sir, let me come. Please. You are driving me fucking crazy. Let me come and I will return the favor. Will lick and suck your big, beautiful cock until you empty your balls down my eager throat.
She would, too. Going down on Tristan was one of her very favorite things to do, and he knew it. But now wasn’t the time to voice any of those thoughts—they simply served to distract her. And if even the tiniest bit of distraction would stop her from coming, then it could only be a good thing. She so wanted to please him.
Tristan pulled away from her clit but continued his ministrations on her G-spot. “Well done, sweetheart. I’m very impressed. Go on then, you can come. And when you’re done I want to fuck that beautiful mouth of yours.”
“Yessss, Sir!” Her words were followed by a string of absolute gibberish as she let go, gave in to the pleasure she’d been granted. Her orgasm hit her hard—she seemed to lose all control of herself for several seconds, seconds that felt like an eternity. Her muscles stiffened, froze, then released as waves of pleasure emanated out from her crotch, racing through her every nerve, right to the tips of her fingers and toes, letting loose sparks everywhere they went.
She was aware of the racket she was making, the increasing hoarseness of her throat, but didn’t care. She was firmly in the grip of her pleasure, her thighs squeezing Tristan’s head as she rode out the delicious sensations rushing through her.
Then it was over. Her body slowly relaxed, like a deflating balloon. She felt like she’d become boneless, like she’d turned into liquid and would sink right into the mattress, never to be seen again. And what a way to go.
Tristan removed her legs from his shoulders and lowered her feet to the floor, but stayed where he was, presumably so the rest of her body wouldn’t follow her feet to the carpet in her orgasm-addled state.
“Sweetheart,” Tristan said, breaking into her floaty world, “stunning as that was to watch, to taste, you’ve got sixty seconds to pull yourself together. If in one minute you are not on your knees in front of me, ready to take me in your mouth, then there will be trouble. And don’t think there won’t be, because I’ll think of something. Trust me.”
His firm tone, his words—especially the last two—sent butterflies whizzing around her stomach at a rate of knots. She didn’t think it was even possible, but a fresh trickle of juices seeped from her pussy, running down her crack and soaking into the duvet.
Clearing her throat, she replied, “Yes, Sir.”
Pulling in a deep breath, she attempted to get a hold of herself, to make her limbs obey her once more, so she could obey Tristan. Her wonderful husband, her Dom.
“S-Sir, if I may… I love you.”
A smirk flirted with the corners of Tristan’s lips. Standing, he leaned down and pressed a kiss to her damp forehead. “I love you, too, little subbie. Now stop stalling and get me ready, beautiful.” He took her hands and pulled her to a sitting position, then left her to her own devices.
Quickly, she sank to her knees on the carpet, looking up at her Master, awestruck by his power over her, at how she responded to it. Adored it. Craved it. Letting her gaze rake down his body, she stopped when she reached his cock, which was as hard as she was wet.
She licked her lips.
Chapter Three
Jayme knew what her husband wanted. And, best of all, it was exactly what she wanted, too. Making sure her lips were good and wet, she then grasped the base of his shaft and began to cover his length in saliva. The sensation of velvet over a core of steel on her tongue was divine, and she had to resist the temptation to suck him. That was not what she’d been asked to do. Her job now was to lubricate her Master’s dick so he could fuck her mouth.
And that’s precisely what she did. Wetting Tristan’s cock by running her tongue over his skin, over the smoothness, interrupted only by the ridges of his veins, she waited for his inevitable command.
“Stop. That’s enough, little subbie. Very good. My dick is shining like the Blackpool Illuminations. Now, open wide.”
Sucking in a deep breath, Jayme did as she’d been commanded. Thrills skated over her skin as she opened her mouth, already willing her gag reflex to relax. It would happen—it always did. God knows she’d had years to perfect the technique.
Without even being asked, she put her hands behind her back and clasped them together. That way she wouldn’t be tempted to use them—either to steady herself, or to touch herself or Tristan. It was strictly forbidden. And besides, sh
e wouldn’t need steadying—her Master would see to that.
She just had time to moisten her lips once more before Tristan forced his cock between them. Slowly, he inched his way inside her willing mouth.
“Ready, little subbie?” Tristan asked.
“Mmm-mmm,” she murmured around his cock.
“Good. Because I sure as hell am.” She heard the smile in his voice as he replied.
With that, he reached down and fisted his left hand in her hair, wrapping the long locks around his fingers. Normally, he’d have used both hands, but he was clearly conscious now of any kind of unnecessary pressure on his right hand. Instead, he rested it on top of her head.
It didn’t matter. Even with his left hand he had a mighty strong grip, and he tugged her hair tightly, sending prickles of pain dancing across her scalp.
He groaned. “Oh God, you’re so hot, my sexy, slutty little subbie. Kneeling there like a good little girl while I fuck your warm, wet mouth.”
Behind her back, Jayme dug her nails into her palms. The dirty talk, the degradation, the feeling of being used purely for Tristan’s pleasure really got her going, and her aching, swelling pussy was silently begging for stimulation. Stimulation it would only get if Tris gave his permission. And that, she knew, would depend on how well she took his cock now. So, continuing to dig her nails into her palms to help her stay focused, she kept her lips and throat relaxed, letting plenty of saliva slick over her husband’s cock as he pumped it in and out of her mouth. She dragged in air through her nostrils as best she could, having long gotten used to the sense of panic caused by thinking she was not getting enough oxygen. One might say she was a pro—after a decade and a half together, she could hardly be any less.
Tristan’s grip on her hair increased, and the prickles of pain on her scalp transformed into something more like stabs. At the same time, he fucked her face harder and faster, his cock riding over her tongue, bumping against her lips and her teeth, the tip invading her throat. But this was not about finesse—this was about getting off. And the pick up in speed, unless she was quite mistaken, meant that getting off was in Tristan’s very near future.
The taste of pre-cum flirted with her taste buds. By now he was jerking in and out so roughly, tugging her hair so hard, that liquid dribbled down her chin and tears rolled from her eyes. She was squeezing her hands together so hard that it hurt, but it was necessary, because she was so damn aroused that she wanted nothing more than to strum her desperate, throbbing clit until she climaxed. Which wouldn’t take long at all—a couple of strokes, maximum. Juices coated her inner thighs and, even without looking, she knew her nipples were so hard they could probably cut glass.
But, of course, that was what this was all about. Yes, she was being fucked, being used as a convenient hole for Tristan’s cock, but it wasn’t all about his pleasure. Their games, this game in particular, was a personal favorite of both of them, because it turned Jayme on just as much as it did her husband. And what turned her on, turned him on and vice versa. Delicious, deviant kinks—the gifts that just kept on giving.
“Ooh, my little slut. Are you ready for my cum? You’d better be, because it’s on its way. Right…unh…now!” With a couple more ferocious thrusts and a roar, Tristan came. His cock thickened and stiffened between her lips, then, after a pause, began to twitch as jet after jet of spunk traveled into her eager mouth.
Humming happily, Jayme drank it down, able to lick and suck at Tris’ shaft now he’d stopped pounding her mouth like there was no tomorrow. Once his sac had emptied, she set about slurping up every last drop of his salty fluid, cleaning him thoroughly. Now she could breathe properly, she noticed the scent of sex filled the air.
Suddenly, Tristan released her hair and pulled back with a moan. She knew why—his dick had grown oversensitive, and the stimulation she continued to give was too much. Biting back a smirk, even as her scalp recovered from its abuse, she said, “Thank you, Sir. That was wonderful.”
“Too bloody right it was,” he shot back, grinning widely as his chest heaved. “So,” he continued, after a pause to catch his breath, “what now, beautiful wife of mine?”
“Well, Sir, that’s up to you, of course.” Obedient to a fault, but really, it was like a code. If she said it was up to Tristan, then it was her way of saying she was happy to carry on playing, carry on taking whatever her husband wanted to dish out. But if she’d had enough, she’d express an interest in a rest, or a shower, or something to eat. Anything that wasn’t fucking.
But right now, she was far from finished. Yes, she’d come, and she’d also pleasured her Master, but she wasn’t yet sated. Her cunt felt empty, bereft, and she wanted nothing more than to have Tristan’s hard cock taking it the way he’d just taken her mouth—hard, fast, rough. In other words, fucking perfection.
“Good. Well now”—he observed her naked body, still kneeling, hands clasped behind her back—”I need a minute or two to recover, but I would very much like to screw that tight little arse of yours.”
Without meaning to, she had to have allowed her expression to register her disappointment.
“Is there a problem, little subbie?”
“No, Sir. It’s just…”
“You may speak freely.”
“Thank you, Sir. It’s just, I’d really like you inside my pussy, Sir. I’m so wet I think I may be flooding the carpet.” She bit her lip, mentally keeping her fingers crossed that he’d grant her this.
Letting out a groan, Tristan said, “That sounds absolutely amazing. How about this? Since you were so good while I fucked your pretty little mouth, I ram your pussy until you come around my dick, then I use those plentiful juices to ease my passage into your arse?”
“If that is what you wish, Sir, then of course I am amenable.”
“You’re such a good girl. Can you stand?” Dominant yet caring at the same time. It was no wonder she loved him so much.
Without waiting for her answer, he reached out to help her to her feet. Her legs were a little wobbly. Regaining her composure, she swiped the back of her hand across her wet cheeks and chin and smiled at her Dom. “Thank you, Sir. Again.”
Capturing her chin in his hand, Tristan leaned down for a kiss. With his tongue, teeth and lips, he truly possessed her mouth, claimed it, showing her without a word how much he loved, respected and desired her.
Much as she adored what they did, there was nothing she liked more than such a masterful, passionate, toe-curling kiss from her husband. It increased the ache in her pussy further still, and she fell into the dizzying effects of the embrace willingly, kissing him back with gusto and hoping he felt even half as much pleasure from it as she did.
Breaking away, Tristan gave her a sinful wink, then grabbed her shoulders, spun her around and shoved her face down onto the bed. With an involuntary squeal, she bounced onto the mattress, but before she could do anything else, Tristan’s big, beautiful body was covering hers.
He tickled behind her ear with his tongue, then nipped at her earlobe before whispering, “You’re going to get it now, little subbie. I hope you can handle me.”
Glad he couldn’t see her face, she caught her bottom lip in her teeth and let her eyes roll back into her head in delicious anticipation of what would happen next.
Pushing her legs together, Tristan straddled them.
His cock and balls brushed against the backs of her thighs, and she managed to stop the gasp before it left her mouth. OhGodohGodohGod… Surely he’s not going to do that…and expect me to stay quiet? I can’t!
Shifting higher, Tristan lay the length of his cock in the valley of her arse cheeks and pumped a couple of times. “I can’t wait to get inside that beautiful arse of yours, little subbie. But first…”
With a little maneuvering, he slipped his cock between her thighs and found her slick entrance. It wasn’t easy to achieve, this position, but Christ, did it feel good once they got there. Wriggling a little, Tristan sank into her sex, resting his hands on
her bum cheeks.
They both moaned at the sensation, and Jayme prepared to be screwed slowly, but deeply, with her G-spot getting the most intense stimulation possible.
“Little subbie,” Tristan said, squeezing her arse, “I know what this does to you, so I’ll be nice, all right? I’ll let you make all the noise you want, and come all you want.” He let out a bark of laughter. “It’s gonna be like being in the damn bath before long with all your sweet juices, you horny, sexy bitch.” With a sharp pinch of her left cheek, he penetrated her as deeply as he could—due to the flesh of her bum and thighs, it was far from balls-deep, but the length and girth of Tris’ cock in this position sent her G-spot into overdrive.
She gripped the duvet yet again, grunting as tingles radiated from her cunt throughout her entire body. Eagerly, she waited for her husband’s next move. Fortunately he didn’t delay, and, pulling back, he rocked into her again. Slowly, deliberately, he began to screw her, getting into his stride, into that difficult-to-achieve rhythm that drove Jayme wild, without slipping out of her pussy. It was quite a mean feat, but once he got there, it sent her completely out of her mind.
Shivers began to wrack her body, uncontrollable shivers, coupled with overwhelming, indescribable sensations. All she could think about was that it was good, so fucking good, and she wanted more. More.
She hadn’t realized she’d spoken out loud until Tristan pinched her bottom again. “Hey. I give the orders around here!”
“S-sorry, Sir! I didn’t mean to say that.” Out loud.
He responded by grinding into her harder, his stiff shaft working her G-spot into a frenzy. A couple of slow thrusts later and she screamed, her body completely out of her control as her cunt clenched, pushing forcefully against Tristan’s dick as hot, watery fluid squirted from her channel. Gasping, she trembled as she squirted again.
Muttering incoherently, she face-planted into the duvet, completely wrung out and floating in a place of pleasure that felt otherworldly. Like an out-of-body experience.