by Ws Greer
After Ava wipes her mouth and puts the cake down, she sips her wine and looks at me with a smile. I smile back, although I know what both of us are thinking, and it doesn't involve smiles. Ava sips her wine before speaking to me over the glass.
“So, how was work? Anything new and exciting?”
“Well, first of all, you know I can't talk about my patients,” I say, with a nod of my head. “Secondly, if you're wondering if I met a patient I’m attracted to the way I was attracted to you the first time you came gliding into my office, the answer is of course not. You don't have to keep asking me that.”
“It’s not that,” Ava says with a playful smirk signaling her lie. “I just wanted to see how things were going at the office. I haven't been there in a while. Just interested in your work.”
“I see,” I say behind a scoff. “Well, it’s going well. My list of patients keeps growing, so I’m busier than ever, but making great money while also helping a lot of people. Everything is running smoothly. Great patients, great money… you. Life is good.”
Ava’s body pauses while her eyes lock onto me. She’s stunning tonight, wearing a red dress that hugs her body like a comforting friend. Ava is five-foot-six and a hundred-seventy pounds of pure thickness. In a dress like this, her ass and hips are on full display, and they draw countless eyes in her direction. Her dark brown hair is wavy tonight and flowing behind her shoulders, and her oval, brown eyes peer right into my soul. She’s the most gorgeous woman in the room no matter which room she’s standing in, and when she looks at me, I feel it in my chest.
“So, you're happy with me?” Ava asks as her eyes suddenly fill with tears teasing to spill over. “You don't regret risking your career for me?”
I frown. “What? Of course not. The past couple of months have been great. I’ve got nothing to complain about, Ava. We’re good.”
Ava smiles so beautifully I swear I can hear the plates on the table let out a gasp. I know she has some insecurities that have carried over from her past and her relationship with Lucas. There are times when she needs reassurance, and I know it’s all about problems with trust. The therapist in me knows Ava has issues she still has to deal with, but I’m no longer her therapist. I’m her boyfriend. My job isn't to provide therapy now, it’s to support her, so while I know she has issues she’s working on, I’m here for her now in a different capacity than before.
Before I can say anything else, Ava gets up from her seat. As she rises, she glares at me in the way she knows I love, and I stare back. I watch her straighten out her skin tight red dress, pulling the fabric down her thick, luscious body inch by inch, before finally walking over to my side of the booth and sitting down next to me.
Once she’s seated, we both smile. I smile because I’m curious, she smiles because she knows what’s coming. This is how we play with each other. This is why our sex is so unbelievable. This is what bonds us.
“You've been amazing, Malcolm,” Ava says as she leans forward and places her face on her fist, leaning on it. “Our time together has been phenomenal for me, too. I really appreciate how good you are to me—how good you make me feel. I wanna make you feel good, too. Right now.”
“What?”
Ava doesn't hesitate when she reaches down and grabs ahold of my thick cock beneath the table. She gasps when she touches it, as if she can feel how good it feels to me. I want to stop her, but when she starts to rub it, making it harder and harder, I’m the one who hesitates. I close my eyes for the slightest second, allowing myself a moment to sink beneath the waves of ecstasy, and the next sensation I feel is Ava sliding down my zipper.
My eyes shoot open, and I look down to find my bare erection in her hand. Ava has literally pulled my dick out under the table at Outback fucking Steakhouse.
“What the fuck are you doing?” I ask, my eyes darting around the restaurant to see if anyone has noticed what is happening. Luckily no one has yet, but that won't last forever. This dick demands attention.
“I want it, Malcolm,” Ava whispers, leaning towards me. “I want to taste you all over my tongue. I want you so bad I can't fucking stand it. From how hard your cock is, I know you want me, too. So, if you don't take me out of here right now, I’m going to get on my knees under this table and make you come in the middle of my favorite restaurant. That’s how bad I want it.”
“Jesus Christ,” I mutter, as Ava starts to stroke my cock vigorously.
It feels so good, and I know I should reach down and stop her, but I just don't do it. However, I can't let Ava get on her knees under this table. People will see her scooting her way down there. There will be no hiding it, so when a random waitress walks by holding a tray of empty plates, I reach out and stop her. “Excuse me. Can we get our check, please?”
The waitress can't see that my dick is in Ava’s hand, but she can see her hand is under the table and moving around in my lap. She squints, before meeting my gaze again. All the while, Ava doesn't skip a beat. She keeps going as if the waitress isn't standing right next to us, and I know it won't be long before she decides to get on her knees. Ava won't care that the waitress is here.
I clear my throat and frown at the waitress, before reaching under the table to push Ava’s hand to the side and reach for my wallet. I reveal two crisp hundred dollar bills, which should more than cover our steak dinners and multiple glasses of wine. I toss the bills on the table, shove my cock inside my pants, and fix my zipper. Ava flashes a quick, satisfied smile before sliding out of the booth, and leading me out the door, all while the waitress watches us with a bewildered look etched on her face.
Chapter Six
~ Malcolm ~
The inside of my truck is hotter than it should be, even with the heater set to seventy on this winter's night. As I drive away from the restaurant, I know there are people on the sidewalks. I know there are cars next to us as we sit at the stoplight, and every nerve in my body is aware of their presence. I can't help but think that they know what's about to happen inside this Chevy Silverado. They have to know. They have to see that Ava has removed her seatbelt and is leaning over the center console of the truck, unfastening my pants with both hands.
Ava’s ass is pressed against the window—there's no way that ass isn't attracting attention—as she leans across the truck. I know I should stop this, because what if a cop rolled past us or pulled up next to us? What if someone started taking pictures to post on social media? People do that type of shit all the time. However, this is Ava, and this is us. I know she’s going to get what she wants, because even though she’s my submissive, until I command her, she will go for what she wants. Ava makes her own rules, until I come in and make her bend to my will.
“Ava,” I mutter, but she doesn't even slow down, let alone stop. Let’s be honest, I don't want her to anyway.
“I want it, Malcolm,” she replies, completely focused on my zipper. She slides it down just as the light turns green, and by the time I’m done turning onto the highway, Ava has sucked the entire length of my cock into her mouth.
I let out a gasp, nearly slamming my foot on the gas and sending us hurling forward, but I manage to keep control of my feet. The warmth of her mouth feels so incredible as she slurps and sucks me. I try to focus on the road in front of me, but all I want to do is look over at her ass as it juts into the air like a luscious skyscraper. I reach over and grab it with my right hand, while my left controls the steering wheel, and Ava moans. The deep rumble of her moaning sends tiny vibrations into my cock, heightening the sensation.
“Goddamn,” I whisper, fighting the desire to close my eyes and throw my head back.
Ava continues to suck me, moaning as her lips slide up and down my shaft. She loves it just as much as I do, which is just another reason I fuck with Ava like I do. She's not afraid to embrace her sexuality or the fact that she loves to give oral sex.
Women are often shamed for being sexual, especially when they enjoy giving pleasure just as much as they enjoy receiving it. It�
�s bullshit. I’m a sexual man, and I fucking love having a pussy in my face. I love sticking my tongue into it and letting it glide over the clit. I enjoy giving pleasure, and no one would ever shame me for that—so why the hypocrisy when it comes to women? I love that Ava doesn't buy into that. Take what you want, baby. Do what the fuck you want to do.
I make another turn after a brief pause at a stoplight. Luckily, there weren't any other cars there, so no one could see Ava’s ass pressed against the passenger’s window. I’m only a few minutes from home, and Ava has been sucking me nonstop. As much as I love it, I can no longer fight back the other side of me. The dominant side.
Knowing we’re only minutes away from my housing development, I pull my hand away from Ava’s ass and place it on her back. She thinks I’m encouraging her to keep going—to push me over the cliff of orgasm. However, the gesture is my signal for her to stop.
“Ava, stop,” I command, my voice deep and controlling. “Stop. Now.”
Hearing the seriousness in my voice, Ava slowly releases me. As she backs away, our eyes meet, and I can see the hunger in her. She craves me, but now it’s time for something else.
I let my eyes roam Ava’s body. She’s so sexy it hurts. I love the look of her. I love watching her.
“Pull your dress up,” I demand. My eyes dart back to the empty road before going back to Ava, who smiles, knowing I’ve taken control and yearning for what’s next.
“Yes, sir,” she says, breathing hard.
I hate that I have to take my eyes off of her to make sure I don't drive off the road, but the second I see we’re safe, I look down at Ava’s black panties. They're lace and decorative, and as much as I can appreciate that, all I really want is for them to be out of the way.
“Take them off,” I say, before glancing at the road.
“Yes, sir.”
Ava pulls her panties off, and my heart races at the sight of her tugging the lace over her heels and dropping the thin fabric onto the floor of the truck. Once the panties are discarded, Ava leans back in the large seat and looks at me, awaiting my next command.
I look at her for a second, enjoying the view and thinking about what I would do to her if I wasn't driving this truck. I wish I could touch her, but since I can’t, I tell Ava what she's going to do next.
“Rub your clit for me,” I tell her. “Rub it the way you'd want me to if I wasn't driving right now.”
“Yes, sir.”
Ava moves her hand slowly up her leg, dragging it out just to tease me. I smirk before licking my lips, as Ava’s fingers find her clit and start to rub circles over it. She moans at her own gentle touch, and I feel the temperature in the vehicle skyrocket. It gets so hot that I have to turn down the heat, even though it’s the middle of January and cold outside.
Ava starts to pick up speed, rubbing her pussy like she can't help herself anymore. She closes her eyes and bites her lip, which has always been something that turned me on. I don't know why, but there's something unbelievably seductive about a woman biting her lip. It sends me reeling every single time.
“Fuck, Ava. You're so fucking sexy,” I tell her as she continues rubbing herself. “Look at me while you do it, and I want you to come for me. Let me see you come.”
Ava’s eyes pop over to me. “Yes, sir,” she says, and when our eyes meet, I reach down and grab ahold of my stiff cock. Ava’s eyes bounce back and forth between my eyes and my cock, and she rubs her pussy like she’s in a room by herself. I know she likes watching me stroke myself, so I do it with vigor. I keep my eyes on the road, but I let my hand glide up and down my shaft as Ava watches me. I become her porn, and she becomes mine.
“Oh my god, I love watching you,” Ava says behind labored breathing. Her breaths quicken, and I know she’s getting close, so I stroke myself faster. “Oh fuck. Can I please fucking come?”
I hear her say it, but I can tell it’s too late. She’s too excited to hold it back now. I give her permission, but before I can finish saying, “Yes, you can come for me,” Ava’s skin is already flushed. She lets out a loud moan that makes my cock twitch in my hand, and I watch her come. It’s my favorite thing in the entire world, even if I’m not bringing her to orgasm myself. Nothing excites me like her coming for me.
As Ava’s orgasm relents, I turn the truck into my driveway. The garage door goes up as Ava’s breathing finally starts to slow down, and I pull into the garage, closing it behind us. When I shut off the engine, Ava looks over at me and smiles. We’re not done yet, and she knows it.
“So,” Ava says, pausing to lick her lips. “What’s next? Where do you want me, sir? Upstairs?”
I don't have to think of the answer. It’s a no-brainer, and the thought of it tugs at the side of my mouth, making me smirk in anticipation.
“When you get inside, don't go upstairs,” I say. “Go downstairs, and wait for me in the Black House.”
Chapter Seven
~ Malcolm ~
I’m not afraid to admit who I am. I’m not normal. What is normal anyway? It’s a subjective adjective that changes depending on the person using it. Normal for some people is vanilla sex—nothing but missionary and no oral or anal ever. Some people—lots of people, actually—have sex all the time and never orgasm. When I say people, I mean women. To far too many of them, that's normal. That shit will never be normal to me.
For me, normal is kinkery. With me, normal involves lots of spanking and multiple orgasms. It includes a plethora of toys designed to bring a woman to orgasm in a myriad of ways. Normal is pleasure masked as pain. Normal is bondage. Normal for me would scare the hell out of most people, and I like it that way. I don't want to be your version of normal, because I fucking love my version, and the Malcolm Colson edition of normal is showcased in the newest edition to my home. The Black House.
After Ava and I had been dating for about a month, I realized that the toys in my room just weren't enough. Don't get me wrong, I loved having Ava on her knees in front of my bed while I opened up the four drawers of pleasure beneath the bed frame. Nothing made me more excited than seeing the drawer full of floggers, or the one full of dildos, or the one full of vibrators. Those were my weapons of choice and I knew how to wield them. However, once Ava and I became a real thing, I knew it was time for an upgrade. Not only because Ava would appreciate it, but because I had grown as well. My desire to take control had grown from a seed to a beanstalk, and it was time to climb to the top.
The basement of my house was mostly empty before. I didn't have much of a need for it except to store some boxes here and there. Anything I couldn't find a specific space for upstairs found its way into the basement, where it collected dust until I remembered it was there and threw it out. Until I had an epiphany.
One morning, while browsing kink sites and looking for new toys to order, I realized I shouldn't stop with a new flogger with thick black braids. I decided I’d buy all new toys, but as I filled my kinky shopping cart with all-black whips and paddles, I realized I could buy an entire warehouse full of toys and put them all in my basement. I had a vision that hit me like a lucid wet dream, and before I knew it, I’d bought enough toys to turn my entire basement into a dark and twisted fantasy of pain and pleasure. I bought toys I’d never used before to go along with my all-time favorites, and even made a trip to Home Depot to purchase a new black door to the basement, and have black carpet installed. When it was all finished, I decided to call my new creation of fetish and desire the Black House. It fit perfectly, and I’ve never been more in love with a single room.
As I descend the stairs that I had painted black, I let my eyes take in the room as it comes into view. At the bottom, I step onto the soft black carpet and take it all in with a smile pulling at the corner of my mouth.
In the middle of the room is a black table topped with black, soft leather that matches the couch in the left corner of the space. The table has silver U hooks bolted to the long sides of it, which are designed specifically for rope or handcuffs to b
e fastened to them. The sight of the table alone makes me smile.
On the wall to the left is a black chest of drawers made of mahogany. I don't go over to it because I won't be using the toys in it tonight, but I know it’s full of floggers of all sizes and thicknesses.
To the right of that is another chest of drawers that looks just like it, and it’s filled with every dildo I could think of when I was searching online.
At the far end of the basement is a king size bed covered in black sheets with a black frame. The frame has four pillars reaching for the ceiling, and every pillar already has a black rope dangling down to the floor, waiting to be wrapped around my submissive’s wrists and ankles.
Next to the wall on the right is a black sex swing, a black Sybian vibrator, and a new version of The Tremor floor vibrator, which I’ve only used once to amazing results. Next to that is a display of spreader bars in a glass case with a black frame, and a shelf of handcuffs.
The space is incredible, and everything in the basement is capped off by the giant toy to my immediate right. Just over my right shoulder, I see the outline of a black Saint Andrew’s Cross that’s taller than my six-foot frame. The cross resembles a massive X, and at each end of the arms are black cuffs. Out of everything I purchased for the Black House, this is my absolute favorite.
Just looking at it all makes my heart race. Everything in me desires to use the toys in this room, and there isn't a better submissive for this lustful heaven than Ava.
When I look over my shoulder at Saint Andrew’s Cross and find Ava kneeling in front of it, my cock grows from aroused to rock hard. She’s completely naked with her hair tied into a tight ponytail that hangs behind her back. Her succulent curves command my attention as she waits for me with her head down but her confidence higher than ever.
“Are you ready, Ava?” I ask as I step towards her and begin to unfasten my pants.
