She Called Him Sir

by JJ Argus

Crack!

  His hand slapped against my bottom in a sharp, stinging blow that jolted my mind into overdrive!

  “Say it, bitch,” he said, his voice quiet, even amused.

  “Oww!”

  Crack!

  “Say it.”

  His finger was rubbing between my legs, setting my insides afire, and my hips were grinding helplessly against him even as his hand cracked down on my bottom again.

  It stung! But I was feeling a hot, bubbling thrill at his outrageous behavior, and didn't want it to stop! I had halfway forgotten what he wanted me to say. Waves of heat and pleasure and raw, animal excitement were sweeping across my mind, and each of them set my consciousness tumbling and turning as I rode his fingers and his other hand cracked against my buttocks.

  My bottom hurt, but it hurt as though it were aflame, and the heat of it melted into my groin, which had its own heat, somehow increasing the sensations as his fingers rubbed me and I ground against them, breathless, dazed, whimpering and gasping and moaning like – like a bitch in heat.

  Crack!

  “Say it!”

  Crack!

  “I-I – ”

  Crack!

  “I am!”

  Crack!

  “I-I'm … I'm your bitch!” I half sobbed.

  I'm not sure what possessed me to say it, a half forgotten memory of something, perhaps. I didn't say I was 'a' bitch, but that I was 'his' bitch. I don't know why.

  I cried out as he yanked my head up and back by the hair, twisting it around so he could mash his lips bruisingly against mine.

  In the background, the pounding beat of the music and the hubbub of voices was counterpoint to our overheated breaths as he moved behind me and kneed my legs apart. I felt his cock sliding between my thighs, up high, along the inside, where the skin was so soft and sensitive. I felt how hard he was, and how soft, as the mushroom head pushed up against the sodden entrance to my sex. The tie ached against my wrists but I didn't try to ease the tautness against me. I wanted my bottom pushed out, my legs spread.

  And when his cock slowly forced the elastic ring of my sex in and back, spreading it wider and tauter and making it stretch and ache, I felt a hot, churning flood of something like elation, like joy, as his cock pushed up into my throbbing, overheated body.

  “Oh! Oh! Oh God!” I gasped.

  His hands were on my thighs, jerking my bottom out as his cock pushed deeper. I felt achingly full, and he was still going deeper. The ache deepened into something close to pain and he leaned in and bit into the nape of my neck.

  I saw something shadowy, and rolled my eyes. Off to the side, at the opening into our shadowy alcove, a couple stood, glasses in hand. I felt a flashing hot wave of embarrassment, but it was almost instantly overcome by a wild, crazy heat. They couldn't, I knew, make out a lot from there, not faces, perhaps only shapes and silhouettes in the shadow.

  But the fact they were looking on was – intense. It should have paralyzed me with embarrassment, but instead as his cock drove up, punching even deeper, I cried out in raw, ragged pleasure and thrust myself back at him in uncontrolled passion.

  I didn't care that it hurt! He started to thrust. In – out – in – out – in. Every deep stroke sent the head of his cock punching into what felt like the back wall of my pussy. It ached, it hurt, but it still felt glorious. And somehow it then felt as if my sheath expanded, and then his hips were slapping against my buttocks as he rode me. The ache diminished, and then turned into something deeply, intensely pleasurable.

  My eyes narrowed to slits, unseeing, my body going almost boneless as his cock drove up into me again and again. I jerked in and out as his big hands pulled on my thighs, but my ability to control my body had faded away as all my focus turned inward, to that incredible pleasure coursing through my body. I was gasping and grunting continuously, my nipples hard, pinpoints of fire amid taut, swollen, overheated breasts.

  A kind of sex heat enveloped my body, and my mind fled to some other place, where nothing but the pleasure mattered. It luxuriated in the delicious power of that pleasure, writhing and twisting as my physical body jerked and shuddered to the powerful blows of his body against it.

  I cried out again, dazed, eyes glazed, as he jerked back on my hair, his mouth in against the nape of my neck, biting, chewing, sucking, licking as his hips ground against my bruised buttocks.

  “Bitch,” he breathed, biting in and growling.

  His free hand plunged down my belly, forcing my hips out again, and when his fingers found my clit the orgasm screamed through my mind and body and shattered my mind.

  Chapter Two

  I was – bemused – afterward. I wandered back to the party, shell-shocked, my body still ringing with the power of the orgasm, my pussy aching, remembering the thick girth of the cock I'd never seen driving up into it. The only thing I could think was “Wow!”.

  Oh wow!

  I didn't see him again, didn't know his name, or anything about him. Talk about strangers in the night!

  Anything after that could only be, quite literally, anticlimactic, so I left, still a bit dazed. Rather than get a ride I decided to walk down the roadway, which was all downhill and which had a marvelous view. It was a warm summer night, and the stars were bright overhead. I didn't get far, though, perhaps a hundred yards, and then a huge black limousine slid to a stop just ahead of me. It wasn't just any limo. This was a stretch Mercedes. It was the sort of car which distinguished the wealthy from the merely well off.

  Now normally when a car slides to a halt as you're walking along a quiet, dark road, and its door opens, you'd back away. But not this car. I eased up to it and looked inside. It was him. He was sitting in the far corner, and made an imperious gesture for me to get in.

  I got in.

  The leather seats were like sitting on air, soft as butter. I looked forward, but there were only more seats facing me. The seats rose to within a few inches of the roof. The driver would be able to hear instructions but not see. The car started forward.

  “What shall I call you?” he said.

  Somehow, I realized it wasn't really a question. He wasn't asking me my name.

  “Isabel,” he said, running the name over his tongue. “No, doesn't suit you. An American girl. Katy? No, too plain.

  “Riley,” I said, giving him my name.

  He considered it, then shook his head. “Too bloody Irish sounding.”

  He leaned closer and his hand reached out, fingers sliding through my hair.

  “Fire,” he said. “Yes, I like that. “I'll call you Fire.”

  I felt caught by his eyes, by the intensity of them.

  “You used to work as a waitress,” he said.

  “I do work as a – .”

  “I need an assistant. You'll be that assistant.”

  I stared at him for a long moment.

  “How do you know I can do that... sort of thing?” I asked almost incuriously.

  “You'll do what I tell you,” he said confidently.

  That should have made me snort with disdain. I'm not sure why I didn't.

  “Wh-what is your name?” I asked.

  “You can call me sir.”

  Breathtakingly arrogant!

  I inhaled deeply. “And what uhm, will I be doing?”

  “Many things,” he said softly.

  I wanted to frown, wanted to say I wasn't a whore, even though I'd just acted like one.

  He moved closer, and I held my hands up. He grasped them in a strong but gentle grip, then pulled them out to him, examining my wrists. He kissed the bruise forming on one, then his tongue eased out, sliding over the flesh. He turned my hand and his lips brushed across the knuckles before he looked up at me.

  “Take off your dress,” he said softly.

  It wasn't a request.

  I felt a surge of heat, a wild, kinky kind of heat, a thrill running up my spine, as though I were in unfamiliar but exciting territory. I glanced at the leather seats across from us as th
e car reached the bottom of the hill and headed into the brightly lit streets of the town. The windows were tinted, though, and the car felt so heavy, so luxurious, that it was as though I were cocooned inside.

  I undid the string behind my neck and let the front of my dress down, then slipped it down, raising my buttocks and pulling it out from under, then down my legs and off. Beneath, I wore my bikini. He reached behind me, undoing my bikini top, and, flushing, I pulled it off. Then, chest tightening, glancing at the little opening ahead, wondering what the driver was thinking, I pulled my thong off.

  I was naked.

  “On your knees,” he said.

  I stared at him, again overwhelmed by his arrogance, and not even sure if he was serious or pretending. But the thought of it made my pussy throb, and so I obeyed, sliding onto the floor. The carpeting was as luxurious as the leather seats, as he opened his legs and invited me in. I reached for his zipper, pulling it down, then undid his trousers and pulled free the belt. He took it from me and leaned forward, pulling my arms together behind my back.

  He held them with one hand around my elbows, my arms in an X behind me as he wrapped the belt around them and yanked it tight. Somehow he locked it there, and then leaned back, filling his fist with my hair, pulling me firmly forward.

  Dazed, I stared at his cock as he pulled it free, and then he pulled my mouth down on it.

  His other hand reached under to knead my breast, then slid down onto my bottom and slapped it. I moaned around his cock, remembering the slaps earlier, wondering what manner of a relationship I was entering into, but a wild, dark thrill filling my mind and body as I began to suck. My lips rode up and down the front half of his cock as I licked at the underside, and he pulled at my hair in short, sharp little movements that reminded me how much in control he was.

  He slouched back, arrogant, calm, watching me as I sucked. I rolled my eyes up at him a time or two but felt overwhelmed by his gaze, and dropped my eyes back to his thick cock as it entered my mouth.

  I pulled off, and licked along the base of his cock, licked up and down, but he jerked up on my hair and 'forced' me back down onto it. I moaned excitedly, sucking, bobbing, and then pushed myself lower, the excitement allowing me to take him into my throat. I gagged weakly, for he was very thick, but the heat was churning within me, and I was able to force myself lower, to slide my throat down along the thick shaft until my face was pressed in against his groin.

  He held me in place for long seconds as my heart pounded, then I felt the pressure on my head ease, felt the pull on my hair, and slid slowly up. Again I gagged a little, cough as he came free of my throat. He pulled my head back and rubbed his spit wet cock back and forth over my face as I caught my breath. Then he pulled me down over his cock again, and I took him deep again. As my throat became numb to the pressure against it I was able to slowly slide up and down on him, bobbing my lips even as half his cock lay within my throat.

  I couldn't always do that, but heat filled me, and I wanted to, I don't know, impress him somehow.

  He stopped me and unfastened his trousers further, spreading them, pulling them down so he could pull my mouth against his balls. I sucked on them, first one, then the other, my nose nuzzling at his cock as he held it up. Then I kissed my way back up the shaft and took it into my mouth and throat once again.

  I could tell from the pressure of his hand on my head, on my hair, that he wanted me to go faster. That wasn't easy, but I did it, sucking and licking, bobbing up and down as he pushed and pulled at my head and hair. Then he jammed me fully down on his cock and held me there, both hands against me as he gasped and grunted. I knew he was coming, coming deep in my throat, and sucked hungrily until the pressure against my head eased.

  I pulled my mouth off him, pleased, and he released my hair. Panting, I sat back on my heels, my skin hot with excitement as I knelt there on that deliciously soft carpet. Naked.

  He stared at me, running his eyes up and down my body, then put himself back into his shorts and did up his pants. He sat up, leaned forward and reached for me, his hand sliding behind my neck and pulling me forward. His fingers shifted to my hair, and his other hand gripped my arm. He pulled me forward as I gasped, turned me, and sat me across his lap, my back to the window.

  “Spread your legs,” he said.

  I flinched, and obeyed as his hand slid between.

  “You'll be taking notes,” he said, the tips of his fingers casually stroking me. “You'll make phone calls on my behalf.”

  His hand moved up, cupping my breast, rolling the hard nipple between his fingertips.

  “You'll see that my coffee is made. You'll arrange for my meals when I need them delivered. You'll arrange for my laundry to be done and ensure quality is maintained in everything I get.”

  His hand slid between my legs again, fingers spreading the lips of my sex, then two fingers pushing into me.

  “You'll type up letters. You'll make reservations and travel arrangements. You'll hire servants. You'll deal with minor bureaucrats and functionaries on my behalf.”

  He eased his fingers out of me and slipped them into my mouth. I blinked, startled, but then closed my lips and began to suck as another dark thrill swept through me.

  “You'll be my bitch,” he said, watching me suck. “In every way.”

  He reached for something, something black. It was – like a vibrator, but covered in some sort of dull black material, like leather or rubber, with little studs. It buzzed, and he slid it between my legs, pressing it against my clit.

  The sensations were instantly overpowering, and I cried out, arching back, thighs clamping closed.

  “Legs open!” he barked.

  I jerked them open, trembling, moaning, the sensations continuous, like a live wire, only... only without that same sort of sharp aching pain. Instead my pussy was throbbing powerfully, shaking, quaking. I felt him grip my hair behind my neck and jerk my head up and back, arching my back. Then I felt his mouth on my breast, teeth digging in, tongue whipping across my stiff nipple as he began to suck.

  The sensations were intense! I was horribly aware of the chauffeur in front but couldn't keep quiet, couldn't keep still!

  It wasn't jut the vibrations, which were powerful. He was rubbing it against me, and the tactile sensation of that – whatever it was – material against my soft, slick clit was too wild, too intense!

  My insides were spasming violently!

  “Oh! Oh! Please! Please!” I cried, writhing, twisting, head pulled back as he sucked on my nipple and ground that awful, wonderful, terrible thing against my burning sex.

  The buzzing stopped, and I felt the thing pressing into me, penetrating me, sliding into me almost all the way, until only the tips of his fingers clutching the base remained outside. He continued to lick and suck on my breasts, on my nipples, though, and my head was still held, hair pulling me up and back.

  Then the thing began to buzz again, rubbing directly over my clit, and I cried out again and again, hips bucking frenziedly.

  “Oh! Please! Oh! Oh Oh! Please! Oh! Sir! Please sir! Please sir!” I cried, voice rising as the sensations screamed through my system.

  I writhed and twisted in helpless pleasure, then arched back even more as the orgasm tore through me and set my hips grinding and bucking violently against the vibrator.

  I could feel my nipples burning as he bit at them, his teeth grinding, pinching, his lips sucking, but the sensations were lost amid the hurricane of power the vibrator was rousing between my legs.

  I collapsed, gulping in air, chest heaving, and he pulled the vibrator away from my burning pussy. He slid out from under me, releasing my hair and dropping me onto the soft surface of the leather beneath. Groaning, I felt him lift my right leg up and press it back against the seat back, up high, so that I was slumped down. He wrapped a seat belt around it, then, grinning, lifted my other ankle up and apart, over to the edge of the door on my left. He pulled his tie out of his pocket, wrapped it around my ankle,
and bound it there to a kind of strap overhead.

  This left me in the corner, legs spread obscenely wide, ankles up and out, and kind of slumped so that I rested on the small of my back. My arms, still bound behind me by his belt, were trapped and helpless as he examined the dildo. He pressed a lever in the base and a kind of tongue slid out from the side, a half inch wide clip of sorts.

  He slid the vibrator into my dripping pussy, pushing it deep, until that clip caught on the top edge of my sex, then he let it close. It squeezed down firmly across the top of my sex, right down on my clit. And then he turned the vibrator on again.

  “Oh! Oh God! Please!” I gasped, jerking against the bonds he had placed on me.

  Because, of course, I had just climaxed, and my clit was, as before, terribly oversensitive at that moment. The powerful vibrations buzzing into it were painfully overwhelming, and I squirmed and twisted in extreme discomfort as I sought to somehow expel the thing. But the clip was pressed down almost painfully tight against me, and the thickness of the thing made it difficult to expel.

  “Please!” I gasped breathlessly.

  The limousine pulled over, and I heard the driver's door open. That distracted me momentarily, as I felt the weight of his climbing out shift the car a little. Then he closed his door and walked around to the passenger door. He opened it and... the man.. whose name I still didn't know, got out. The door was closed behind them, leaving me alone, cocooned.

  And the vibrator buzzing at my clit.

  What the fuck – !?

  My ankles were still trapped, up and back, my legs obscenely open, and I stared at the vibrator as the discomfort began to twist, began to shift, to turn into a hot, burning pleasure that had me grinding and twisting and then crying out in pleasure as another orgasm tore through me.

  Now perhaps I should explain that I had, of course, tried vibrators in the past. I don't know if it was like beer – that is, you had to get used to it, but I had not enjoyed my limited exposure to them. The sensations were uncomfortably intense, and not at all pleasurable, and I had not attempted to endure through that discomfort to something more pleasurable which might come in its wake.