by Eve Langlais
They were easy instructions to understand, but hard ones to follow with a cock that didn’t want to be crushed. Tucking it under his stomach, Grant placed himself on the bed and spread his limbs as she commanded. His shaft beat against his lower belly, pulsing an eager rhythm.
Lying there unable to see anything with the crux of his thighs open, he felt exposed and strangely vulnerable. His dominant side, which emerged mostly at work, wanted him to rise and stand in a position of equal footing when she finally returned. But his kinky, submissive side tingled as he waited breathlessly for what she had planned.
He had a feeling it would be worth it.
Isabelle flushed with excitement over Grant’s quick capitulation. As she slid into her one-piece latex suit, thoughts of what the night might bring ran like a kinky movie inside her head, and her fingers grew clumsy.
Oh, the things I’m going to do to him.
Slipping on her high heels, she grabbed the red lipstick off her vanity and traced the line of her full lips. Ready, she strutted out to her bedroom, her tummy tingling with excitement and pussy wetting when she saw Grant’s powerful nude body lying spread eagle on her bed.
She could tell he was aware of her presence by the way his body stiffened. Wanting to stretch out the moment and knowing just how vulnerable he must feel, she perused him slowly, from his finely shaped calves, to the heavy balls between his thighs. With a smile, she walked over to her bed and with one manicured nail, traced a line that started at his ankle and traveled up one of his firm, muscled legs, rounded one of his tense buttocks, and finally crawled up the broad expanse of his back. She had so much of him with which to play.
“You’ve been a bad boy, Grant.”
He shuddered at her words. Not the response she wanted. She tweaked one of his ass cheeks, and he yelped.
“The correct answer is yes, mistress.”
“Yes, mistress,” he repeated, unable to hide the smile filling his voice.
A happy slave? Not quite what she wanted. He didn’t seem to be taking the situation seriously enough. He thought they were just having fun and playing a game. By the end of the night, however, he’d know differently.
She knelt on the bed between his spread legs and dug her fingers into his thighs. His body shook. Then she traced a line down the crevice of his ass with one finger. Immediately, he clenched his cheeks tight. She frowned at his back. She didn’t like being denied. She tickled his balls in hopes that he’d relax, but his cheeks remained tightly clenched.
“Relax,” she commanded.
He shook his head. “I don’t like to be touched there.”
That wasn’t the right answer. Getting off the bed, Isabelle pulled a chair out from the wall and sat in it. “Come drape yourself over my knees.”
“Why?” He turned to look her, his eyes confused. “I don’t understand. What are you going to do?”
“Either do as I say, or you can leave now.” She narrowed her eyes at him and crossed her arms under her breasts, pushing them out of her costume. “Do you understand?”
“Yes, mistress.” He swallowed hard and got off the bed, his towering figure casting a shadow over her.
She put on her sternest face. His curious urge to comply was obviously warring with his masterful side, but his curiosity won out. Without questioning her any further, he folded his long frame over her knees. His knees touched the floor on one side, while his head hung down on the other. He braced his hands on the floor so as to not crush her with his weight.
Isabelle smiled when his rigid cock brushed her thigh. The sight of his pale, tightly clenched buttocks proved irresistible. She ran her hand across them, over and over, gently stroking him until he relaxed.
Crack! The slap of her hand against his bare flesh echoed loudly in the room—as did Grant’s curse when he jumped up and rubbed his offended posterior.
“What the hell?” he exclaimed.
“Get back over my knee right now,” she commanded, pointing to her lap. The first moment of truth had arrived. Would Grant let her take control? Would he let her punish him?
Chapter Eight
Grant’s ass stung but truth be told, the pain made his cock harder even as the action shocked him.
Isabelle had spanked him without warning or remorse, and now she sat there, regal and gorgeous, imperious even just like a fucking goddess. She waited expectantly in a one-piece suit made to tempt a man to sin.
Pointing at her lap again, she said not a word, her expression daring him to forget the rules he’d been taught all his life about normal sex games.
How would she like it if I turned the tables right now and flipped her over my knee and spanked her?
If Grant weren’t so aroused and scared she’d tell him to leave, he might have tried it, even though he knew he would never intentionally hurt her. He wanted to worship her. I want her to hit me again. I’ve read about men being spanked and while I never thought I’d try it, I have to admit I’m curious. I need to step out of my safe zone and try this. If I don’t and leave now, I’ll always wonder what it would have been like.
He draped himself over her lap again, rubbing his knees against her carpeted floor while his hands curled in the fibers on the other side of her legs, ready to tense at the next smack. Her latex suit felt rubbery and odd against his throbbing cock where it pushed against her thigh. He held himself rigid, knowing he should relax, but anticipation made him unable to do so.
A soft, feathery touch tickled over the skin of his buttocks. A touch that became firmer as Isabelle kneaded his muscles and skin. Almost unwillingly, he loosened up, her soothing caress proving irresistible. When the slap finally came, because he’d expected it this time, he didn’t rear up and actually managed to bite off the exclamation that came to his lips.
“Good boy,” she murmured.
A surge of pleasure rushed through him. “Thank you, mistress.”
She resumed the caresses, interspersed with smacks. Some soft, some hard. To his amazement, he soon forgot the pain and began looking forward to the slaps, the skin of his ass warming feverishly and his breathing coming faster.
Every so often she asked him short queries, such as, “Do you like that?”
And he replied fervently, “Yes, mistress.”
The spanking continued, and he now looked forward to each stroke, arching his back to offer his buttocks to her temptingly. And this time, when her hand slipped between his cheeks, he didn’t clench his legs together and thus enjoyed the scrape of her nails along the underside of his balls. That simple touch made him buck against her leg, and she laughed before she slapped him.
Forgoing the caresses on his ass, she now alternated between slapping his cheeks and stroking his balls and the skin inside his crevice. He tensed slightly when her finger probed at his manhole, then quickly moved away from the taboo spot back to his balls. But as her slaps quickened, he noticed that her fingers returned to his anus more often and that the probes became more insistent.
A sudden flurry of slaps alternating between his cheeks had him moaning helplessly. But they were a mask for her true objective.
The next probe of his butthole became an outright plunge of her finger that hit a sensitive spot he’d never known existed. With a yell, he shot his load against her thigh and collapsed weakly across her lap.
Isabelle stroked him lightly, the bright red skin of his ass shining prettily at her. And while her hand ached, sore from spanking him, she thought it well worth the price to see Grant lose control. Not to mention she’d accomplished her first minor assault against an orifice he’d labeled as off limits. Already she had him crossing lines he’d never imagined. But now it was her turn for pleasure.
With one last slap to his abused posterior, she said, “Get up.”
“Yes, mistress,” Grant croaked, raising his head and turning his passion lidded eyes on her. He unbent himself from her legs and stood unsteadily in front of her.
Seeing this man, who thought himself so powerful,
humbled by her was a heady feeling—not to mention, an erotic one.
She spread her legs wide and showed him the special slit in the crotch of her suit. His eyes widened, and she laughed at his moan when she spread the pink folds that peeked out.
He avidly tracked the movement of her finger as it glided back and forth against her sex. She held out her finger, which was damp with her juices. He immediately grasped what she wanted and fell to his knees in front of her, his mouth eagerly suckling the finger drenched in her essence. Isabelle withdrew the digit from his mouth and arched her pelvis forward. With a moan of excitement, he slid his big hands under her buttocks and pulled her forward, drawing the most intimate part of her to his mouth so he could feast.
And feed on her he did. His moist tongue delved between her plump lips and lapped at her. She stared down at him to find his eyes closed in rapture, the lower half of his face hidden between her thighs as he gorged himself on her flesh.
Isabelle sighed in pleasure.
His mouth found her sensitive clit, and he flicked his tongue against it with lightening quick touches that had her closing her eyes and throwing her head back at the erotic sensations. But she wanted more than just his tongue.
Reaching blindly beside her, her hands touched the cold wood of her bedside table. Fumbling only slightly, she opened the top drawer and grabbed the first toy she could wrap her hand around.
A large rubber dildo.
Grant noticed her distraction and opened his eyes. Isabelle waved her toy in front of him. He let go of her pussy for a second and with a wide smile, took the fake penis from her. He cocked a brow at her, and Isabelle giggled.
Her play phallus was rather dauntingly thick, but she wanted that girth along with his tongue.
“It will fit, just be sure to slide it in slowly,” she murmured.
She watched with slitted eyes as he probed her sex with the object’s wide head and gasped as he slowly inched it into her, stretching her until she thought she might split. But damn, it feels good.
“Now lick me,” she urged, grabbing his hair.
He needed no prompting. Diving forward, he renewed his energetic licking and sucking. Isabelle thrashed as he pumped her flesh with the large phallus, its bulbous tip hitting her womb and sending electric jolts throughout her.
The rushing roller coaster that was her desire roared to a peak as his tongue flicked her clit and his hand worked the large dildo inside her, faster and faster. The sensations overwhelmed her, and she reached her peak. With a scream, she bucked as her orgasm tore through her.
Isabelle cried out, only vaguely surprised when Grant joined her. Her body quivered with many pleasurable ripples of release and the tremors in her body didn’t ease for several moments. She opened her eyes to see Grant slumped in front of her, one of his hands still wrapped around his cock. His spent cock.
A pleasurable end to the first round of his training. She wondered if the next escalation would be as easy.
Chapter Nine
Grant wanted to spend the night with Isabelle, to hold the wondrous woman in his arms. But she sent him home, saying it was too soon for that kind of intimacy. More intimate than what they’d shared?
Grant floated on a cloud well above that of number nine. Isabelle had introduced him to new experiences, some with lingering effects like the twinge that shot through him whenever he sat, but the reminder of the pain didn’t bother him. It titillated him. Reminded him of what she’d done. What she still might do. What he hoped she would do.
She excited him like no other woman ever had. She’d taken charge of him—a man known for his ironclad control—and made him lose it completely like the most inexperienced of boys. And how I loved it.
The new world she’d shown him both baffled and intrigued him. To his immense surprise, he quite enjoyed the spanking. Its stinging pain had quickly evolved into pleasure. But he experienced even greater shock when he realized just how hard he’d become when she’d fingered his taboo hole.
As a man who’d always enjoyed women, he’d never entertained anal play before, even though he’d heard that many straight men enjoyed it. He admitted to a certain homophobia where that was concerned. And yet, when she’d plunged her finger into him …
Grant’s cock somehow found the will to get hard again at the memory, even though a part of him was ashamed he’d let a woman touch him that way.
But not any woman. Isabelle.
For her, he had discovered, he would do almost anything.
He wondered what new delights she’d have for him on the morrow. A thought that had him stroking his cock one more time before he went to sleep.
The next day, Isabelle sauntered into his office with a bright smile on her face. When Grant would have stood to embrace her, she held up a hand and stopped him.
“Good morning, my pet. Sit down. I didn’t give you permission to touch me.” Grant almost went cross-eyed at her commanding tone, and his cock became rock hard in joy at her presence.
Isabelle hopped onto his desk and with a naughty smile, pulled up her loose skirt and spread her legs. Today she wore a lacy pink thong, the flimsy material of its crotch narrow enough to reveal the edges of her nether lips. Suddenly hungry, Grant dove forward to partake of the unexpected breakfast treat.
The palm of her hand on his forehead stopped him.
“Not right now, my pet. That’s for later. And to make sure you’re ready for me, I’ve got a surprise. Here, take this.” Isabelle reached into the depths of her cleavage and pulled out the small dildo she’d used before.
Grant took it and looked at her. “What do you want me to do?”
“Lick it for me, and when you’ve got it nice and wet, put it inside me.”
“Yes, mistress.” Grant slid the hard plastic between his lips and locked eyes with her. Then, with clumsy fingers, he pulled the crotch of her panties aside and inserted the toy’s now wet tip between her folds. He slid it in slowly. By the time the dildo’s length had disappeared inside her, he shook with desire.
Isabelle spoke huskily, “Every time you look at me today, I want you to think of the toy inside my pussy. Think of my sweet hole squeezing it tight, my panties drenched with my juices.”
Grant almost came at her words. I can’t do this. She’s going to drive me mad.
She wasn’t through speaking, though. “You will not touch yourself today, even though you will want to. Periodically, I will come into your office and lift my skirt for you, and you will put your hand on my crotch and insert one finger so you can see I’m still being penetrated. You will do no more than that until I command you to do otherwise. Do you understand, my pet?”
“Yes, mistress,” he whispered. Oh, the sweet torture.
A knock at his office door had Isabelle hopping off his desk and smoothing her skirt just in time for the firm’s boss—her father—to enter.
“Grant, my boy. Have you got those specs I asked for?”
“Huh?” Still befuddled by what had just happened with Isabelle, Grant hesitated. The blood from his brain still circulated inside his lower parts rather than his head. Isabelle thankfully came to his rescue.
“They’re right here, daddy,” she said, reaching over to a pile of papers on his desk and pulling out the right one.
He smiled. “Thanks, Issy. Are you having lunch with me today?”
“Of course I am. That is, if it’s okay with Grant?”
“Uh, sure.”
“How’s my boy here treating you?”
Grant almost choked wondering if her father knew about them.
“Oh, daddy. Grant’s a great boss. And he’s smart, too. He knows when he should listen to his secretary. Don’t you, Grant?” she said, turning her baby blue eyes on him and smiling impishly.
“Yes, um … she’s very efficient,” Grant managed to reply. He bit back the other words that sprang to mind; sexy, delicious, arousing, fucking awesome.
“Excellent. I guess I should go and leave you two to work.
One o’clock for lunch, then Issy?”
“Okay, daddy.” Isabelle turned back to her father. “See you then.”
As her father—his boss—left, he shouted over his shoulder, “Bring Grant along too, if you want.”
“Maybe I will.” Isabelle went to follow her father out, but turned back to Grant at the last moment. “I’ll be back for my panty check. You be good, now.”
It took Grant a few moments to recover from that statement. Good thing he was competent enough at his job that he could do it without thinking.
Isabelle squirmed in her chair often during the morning, enjoying the feeling of the dildo inside her, even as her panties grew damper and damper. If her father hadn’t invited her to lunch, she would have probably closeted herself in the office with Grant and enjoyed a different kind of meal.
Perhaps she still would.
Quickly catching up on overnight emails and other items, she kept an eye on the clock. A half hour before lunch, she entered Grant’s office and caught him talking on the phone.
He quickly hung up and watched her expectantly.
Locking his door so that no one would accidentally interrupt, she sauntered over to him and hiked one leg, resting her foot on his desk.
“Time for my panty check,” she told him, enjoying the way his cheeks flushed and his eyes grew bright.
Eagerly he lifted her skirt and palmed the crotch of her panties, curling one finger under their edge and inserting it into her to check that the dildo was still in place.
“It’s intact,” he choked out. And remembering her instructions from earlier, he withdrew his hand with a pained look.
She brought her leg back down. “Have you been a good boy?”
Grant nodded.
Isabelle looked at him sharply.
“Yes, mistress,” he said.
“Good. Now, we’re going to lunch with my father,” she said, casually dropping to her knees and unzipping his pants. “I’m going to need you to control yourself and try not to think of the dildo in my pussy. Oh, and one last thing—no coming in your pants.”