by Nikki Sex
All the while, I make sure that she’s watching herself in the mirror. I also keep up a running monologue, telling her how much I want to bury my cock inside of her, how incredibly sexy she is and how lucky I am that’s she mine.
These multiple erotic sounds, sights and sensations quickly stimulate her to the edge of climax.
“Come for me,” I command her. “Let us see how fucking hot you are when you come.”
Emily screams and thrashes in an explosive release. Anchoring her waist firmly with an arm, I stroke between her legs as she rides out her savage orgasm.
Beautiful.
Cuddling her crosswise on my lap, I remove the nipple clamps. I suckle her nipples, soothing the pain as blood rushes back into her abused flesh. She buries her head in my neck and twitches with aftershocks.
Even though my balls ache with unsatisfied lust, I’m on a total high.
With Em on my lap, I wait for her to come down from the languid mental fog that one gets after a good climax. Her speeding heart slows, her breathing eases.
“Did you like that game, rabbit?”
There’s a glint of mischief in her eyes when she looks up at me. “I loved that game.”
“I’m proud of you.”
“You are? Why?”
“For having the courage to show me exactly how you pleasure herself. That isn’t an easy thing to do.” I grin. “That was incredibly hot by the way.”
She exhales in a happy sigh. “Tell me about it.”
“Do you think that you’d ever want to play that game again?”
“Absolutely.”
“Good.” I kiss her forehead and consider that this a very good start. The scene was a success, but now it’s time to push her buttons a little.
Emily is an anal virgin and doesn’t like the idea of me pushing my dick into that innocent ass of hers. The idea of it freaks her out. Just now she’s got a nice post-orgasmic afterglow going, fuzzing her brain and making her more pliable to my desires. I think she can handle a little fear, anticipation and anxiety.
“Do you know what I’ll do next time?” I say.
Unsuspecting, open and curious, she shakes her head and looks at me all wide-eyed and beautiful.
“Next time we play this game, I’ll have my cock up your tight little ass. You won’t believe how fucking amazing that will feel.”
When I see shock, fear and lust flare in her eyes, I smile.
Chapter 6.
"Women are empty and need to be filled. They desire to be stretched and filled by a man's cock."
– André Chevalier
~~~
EMILY
Momentarily disoriented, I wake to the buzz of an alarm clock. It continues its racket for some time, until I finally reach over and shut it off.
Jesus, Emily, I muse to myself. You were really out for the count.
I know why, of course. Paul wore me out.
The potent smell of Paul fills my senses and I breathe in deeply. I’m naked, in his bedroom and in his bed. My entire body aches and I’m deliciously sore between my legs. It’s a well-used feeling, a physical reminder of some of the most intense and amazing moments of my life.
I check my hips and between my legs. Where are the bruises? This disappoints me. I almost wish I did have visible reminders. That man did things to me that I’ve never imagined.
I had no idea what my body was capable of. Wow.
And as for Paul, the guy is a sexual terminator – he never quits. I may be his rabbit, but he’s the Energizer bunny. He keeps going and going and going! Hmmm. Maybe I should say coming and coming and coming.
Paul Jarman. My life-long obsession. I have a bone-deep need for him that never goes away. Every possible male interest I’ve had, has always been eclipsed by Paul. I’ve never been close to any other man, even if I slept with them, because of my ridiculous fixation.
Paul Jarman. I’ve had a crush on him for as long as I can remember.
When I was a child, Paul was always kind to me. He listened to me and made me laugh. Once I got older and my body flooded with hormones, I saw him through the eyes of a woman, rather than the eyes of a child. The feelings I had for him changed and intensified.
The first time I had a sexual fantasy, Paul was my dream lover. He’s remained the star of my fantasies since then.
I’ve been in love with him practically all of my life, but whenever I tried to tell Paul that, he’d just shut me down. He always looked at me as if I was his little sister. We stayed close over the years and became good friends, but he’s always been so much more.
‘The only way to banish temptation is to give into it,’ is what they say.
It turns out that ‘they’ are idiots.
That’s why I went to Cabo San Lucas, Mexico, several weeks ago. I hadn’t seen Paul for three years and after elaborately disguising my appearance, I orchestrated a way to meet him there using the name, ‘Candy.’
It was such an underhanded thing to do, but I was single-minded.
My idea was to finally scratch that long term, never ending itch of mine. I figured that if I had sex with the object of my obsession, maybe I could get over him and finally move on with my life.
It’s funny now, to look back and see how infatuated Paul became with me as my assumed slutty persona, Candy. It’s even funnier to realize that Candy was me. A woman who, as it turns out, really enjoys sex. Sex with Paul, anyway.
I’ve always tried to do the right thing. I’m a rule follower, not a rule breaker. This goodie-goodie behavior of mine never got me anywhere. Being ‘Candy’ the ‘bad girl’ was so liberating, mind-blowing and life changing. It was my chance to truly let loose. Yet deceiving Paul was just plain wrong.
I went down to Cabo San Lucas intending to deceive, trick and seduce him. I’m so glad I did. Just look where I am now? In his bed, basking in his scent, feeling well-used and loving it. Mmm.
Bad girls clearly have more fun. Mine’s a cautionary tale… in reverse.
Now that we’re together, my dreams have come true. I don’t think I’ll ever get enough of him, but I want to keep trying. Hell, I’d be happy to die trying. I wonder if a person can actually climax to death?
What a way to go, with a smile on my face.
Paul’s angular face and high cheekbones can give him a somewhat menacing and dangerous look. His trim, yet muscular six-foot frame accents the primal male inside. Penetrating hazel eyes compliment his thick, brown hair. And that sexy smile of his? It makes every woman melt.
It doesn’t seem fair that he’s the object of desire for so many women. I know he’s broken many hearts. I can barely wrap my brain around the concept that Paul Jarman, actually wants me.
I’ve always been kind of mousy and way too uptight. But he doesn’t want to just screw me and leave me. He loves me. Me!
Some people know Paul as an attractive, friendly, young man, who easily shakes hands and makes eye contact with others. No one sees the powerhouse underneath his calm and confident exterior. No one knows how completely he can dominate a woman.
They don’t know him as I do.
Just seeing him naked causes libido overload. Recently, he’d been laboring in the sun crewing on yachts in the Gulf of California. It shows in his tan skin and the blonde streaks in his brown hair.
Paul has broad shoulders, a six-pack and ripped chest. His stomach is flat, his ass is tight. And then there’s his beautiful, thick cock.
I want to lick him all over, head to toe, I think with a giggle.
Again.
Sex with Paul has been a real eye-opener. He gives me incredible orgasms, one after another. It’s never been like that for me. I can get myself off, but it’s always been impossible to climax when I’m with a man.
And the orgasms I’ve given myself? They were never anything spectacular. They provided a nice, mild release but no fireworks. They were like Astronaut food. It’ll keep you alive, but not really satisfied.
I’ve never had a man take control
like Paul does. Usually, during sex, I’m all up in my head. Internal dialogue runs through my mind like, “Does he think I’m fat?” or “Am I doing this right?” I’m always thinking stupid stuff like, “Should I tell him what I like, or will that insult him?” and “Maybe I should…”
I’m unable to stop thinking.
Like a hamster running endlessly on a wheel: my thoughts take a lot of mental effort, make a ton of internal noise, and get me nowhere. Paul keeps my body so busy, constantly overwhelming my senses, that my mind doesn’t have a chance to focus on stupid crap.
With him I don’t think at all – I just feel.
The distinctive sound of a shower running, explains where he is right now.
My hands move to gently touch my nipples. They’re pretty tender. Probably from the nipple clamps. Or his teeth. God.
For a moment, my mind flashes back to the things we did last night. My entire body flushes with sensual heat. I love the way he bosses me around. I rode him and he rode me. Every single time I climaxed, his attentive eyes saw it all.
Nothing passes unnoticed. Paul really seems to get off on getting me off. This is also new for me.
I’ve always found his hazel eyes entrancing. They often look chocolate brown, but in sunlight or any well-lit setting, his irises are a beautiful, bright green near the pupils. But it’s not just the color. He’s so perceptive. Nothing escapes him. I feel naked and exposed when Paul looks at me with those eyes.
Hmmm. Speaking of naked, he’s in the shower, all warm and wet. Yum.
The clock says 7:15. We don’t have to be at work until 9. I slide out of bed suddenly, like my ass is on fire. I want to catch him before he gets out of the shower.
I open the bathroom door and hear him humming. This makes me smile.
When Paul is happy, I feel happy. In all of the time that I’ve known him, he’s always seemed just a little sad. His parents were nice to me, but neither of them was ever affectionate. They can be cold, distant and difficult to deal with.
As annoying as my mom can be, I always knew she loved me.
I see him through the glass and stop short, drinking him in. He’s rinsing his hair, eyes shut, hands up on his head in a way that makes his biceps bulge. The shower door makes a little sound when I pull on the handle. His eyes open and meet mine.
“Hey, sleepy head,” he says.
My breath hitches as a nearly tangible frisson of attraction passes between us. We grin at each other stupidly for a moment – lovers with shared secrets, remembering recent intimate pleasures.
“Hey, yourself,” I say.
He holds out his hand. “Come here,” he says, in a ridiculously proprietary manner. That authoritative bite in his tone sends a thrill of desire flashing through me. The velvet timbre of his voice is deep and mellow.
But his simple order isn’t a suggestion.
He fully expects to be obeyed.
A part of me finds him intimidating. Another part is drawn to his power, his hunger for me and his complete control. At times, I feel utterly consumed by him. I want to give him everything. I don’t know if he’s bringing out things that were already there within me? Or is he making me into something I’m not?
Either way, I respond instantly, taking his hand and stepping into the shower. My eyes fall lower and my mouth drops open to see how quickly he’s become hard. His beautiful cock juts skyward.
Paul pulls me into him, my breasts push against his chest. He’s so solid. So male. His lips meet mine and his cock presses against my stomach. My knees tremble from the warmth of his touch.
He bends his head for a chaste kiss, his cheeks rest against mine. Last night his face was covered in scratchy stubble. Now his hard jaw is clean and soft, freshly shaven.
When he steps back, his mouth curves into a slow smile. My gaze drifts down once more. I can’t help but notice that his erection is enormous. I lick my lips. All I want to do is taste it.
“Do you want to suck my cock?” he asks softly, his words echo in my suddenly blank mind.
My eyes fly to his face, but it’s too late. He knows exactly what I’m thinking. It’s embarrassing really, but I might as well admit it. His delicious shaft is all wet and hard. My mouth fills with saliva at the thought of tasting him. I nod.
“The words, Em. Tell me what you want,” he says with deceptive mildness. “And remember to ask nicely.”
Holy shit!
There it is, that uncompromising tone of his that cannot be denied. He used that commanding voice on me all last night.
It’s a weird thing, the way I respond to it.
When Paul gives me a direct order my belly tightens, my breath stops and all of my muscles clench, particularly the ones between my legs. I feel his no-nonsense instructions from the top of my head, right down to the spontaneous curl in my toes.
I’m like a dog, salivating when the dinner bell rings. Paul gives one command and my body becomes pliant, wanton and wet.
“Tell me the words,” he orders while giving me the ‘Look.’
That no-nonsense ‘Voice’ working together with the ‘Look’ is an unfair advantage in every way. I’m totally defenseless. No red-blooded woman could resist that devastating combination.
Stupidly, I giggle like a school girl, but I have no idea why. “May I please suck your cock?”
He smiles and draws me into him again, holding me close, skin-to-skin, under the warm shower of water with him. Paul isn’t much of a talker, but he’s pleased with me. This is his wordless way of telling me so. Elated, I wrap my arms around his neck and press closer.
“Don’t be embarrassed, Em,” he says, kissing my eyes and my forehead. “Even though you’re cute with that pink tinge in your cheeks. Lots of women enjoy going down on a man, and most submissives particularly enjoy serving their Dom in that way. I told you that I believe that you’re naturally submissive.”
Paul shifts one hand, placing it around my jaw and throat in a gentle, yet firm, sexy grip. I can’t move. Completely entranced, I freeze and meet his gaze. I wasn’t going anywhere, not that I wanted to anyway.
His eyes penetrate. “First, I’m going to kiss you,” he says, “and make your lips very wet for me. Then you may go to your knees and kiss my cock.”
Desire floods my body in a wave of heat. The things he says make me melt. Combine that with his beautiful face, his hard, alluring body, his heady male scent, and the feel of him against me? Well.
It’s devastating.
Those words and his voice tip me into libido overload. I’m pretty sure I’d fall to the ground, if he didn’t have such a strong grip on my waist and throat, anchoring me to him.
Using his tongue, Paul licks my lips thoroughly, teasing them apart. My eyes drift shut with erotic bliss, and I make a sound, something like a moan. He kisses me slowly, with maddeningly cool control.
My pulse quickens and my breath catches. The feel of his lips, teeth and tongue fog my brain, and push my body into a tingling high. I’m lost to sensation. When he pulls back and softly touches my cheek, it takes me a moment to open my eyes.
When I do, I can only stare at him.
His thumb rubs over my lower lip and I quiver. His dark intensity dwarfs me. Paul’s every touch is so casual and possessive. He can have me, take me, and use me exactly as he wants. He knows this. And he knows that I know it, too. I’m overwhelmed by the strength of his personality. By him.
Every part of me surrenders completely. I want to raise a white flag. I want to give in to his zillion megawatt power.
He owns me.
Paul’s face is calm and composed. There’s nothing to show that my kiss affects him at all, except for the triumph in his eyes.
“Kneel for me,” he orders. His tone of dark seduction sends a surge of heat straight to my core. “You may kiss my cock now.”
His big palms seep warmth into my shoulders as he pushes me downward. Instinctively I comply, finding myself on the tile floor, without even thinking about it. Like a
well-trained animal, I fall to my knees, and press my lips to his heated shaft.
I merely kiss his engorged head, just once, exactly as he directs. I feel incapable of doing anything else. He’s hot and wet. His beautiful cock has such soft skin, yet it’s so very hard.
A wave of intense pleasure rolls through me.
It feels so good to obey him. It feels right.
Paul reduces me into a bundle of bodily instincts, sensations and raw desire. Like an adoring pet, I’m devoted to him. I’ll do anything for his attention and his praise.
Chapter 7.
"Women have strong oral needs, too. A woman's warm, wet mouth is another such needy, empty place; it craves to be stretched and filled by a man's cock."
– André Chevalier
~~~
"You are a very good girl,” Paul says.
I shift my gaze away from his cock and stare up at him.
He looks down at me with a hooded gaze. Fisting my hair with one hand, he pulls it firmly in a delicious bite of pain. He cups my face with the other.
“Put your hands on me now, your hands and your mouth,” he murmurs. “I want to stretch those soft, wet lips of yours and fill your mouth with my cock."
His dominance causes my molten core to clench. I reach up and grip his hips with both hands. Heat radiates from his groin. Even in the shower, his unique heady scent makes me swallow. His shaft is thick and solid. I move to put my mouth over him.
“Stop,” he says, stroking my face with his knuckles. “You’ve asked to suck my cock, and I’m going to allow it. What do you say?”
I grin and laugh out loud. I know Paul’s trying to teach me to be his submissive, using his own ways and means. But sometimes this all feels very silly. “Hmm. Let me see.” I rub my chin, over dramatizing pensive consideration. “Do I say, thank you?”
“Yes, you do.”