“Mistress, I want you to cum all over me,” As he spoke, the power of his hips magnified. “I can’t wait until you let me eat you mistress. Please, can I suck the cum out of you? Please?” he begged.
No one had ever begged for me before. It was a turn-on that I hadn’t experienced in years. He was so deep inside, and it felt sweet, as if his cock was candy to my sex. I wanted to swallow him whole.
Rubbing my clit and riding this massive cock sent waves of heat over my body. The tingling of nerves coming alive shot through my body until my legs lost function.
I was cumming, screams escaping me and bouncing off the walls. I pounded on Kyle’s chest and bounced on him like a derby-winning pony.
“Oh, Mistress... May I cum now? Please?”
That was weird. Still inside me and hard as concrete, Kyle now wanted my permission to cum. I wasn’t sure if I could say anything other than yes.
Reaching for the sides of the bed posts, I untied him.
“Yes, you may cum.”
As soon as his hands were free, Kyle grabbed me close, pulling me down to him and pumping away. Our bodies meshed together were like exploding volcanoes of cum. Before tonight, I’d thought that multiple orgasms were impossible, but I was about to have one.
“Yes, fuck me, dammit!” I tried to slap at his face, possessed by some orgasm demon as I matched his speed.
“Yes, Mistress!,” he screamed. We both held onto each other for dear life, squeezing the orgasms out of each other.
The second one was better than the first, if that were even possible. Huffing and puffing with our juices flowing everywhere, I felt like I was floating in some cloud.
I was glad things didn’t work out with Brent, and to hell with Trevor; I had a real man now, and his name was Kyle.
****
The sun shining in my face woke me up. The beating of Kyle’s heart was in my ear, and opening my eyes, I saw our naked legs intertwined in the sheets.
It was glorious pain as my head was spinning, and my thighs ached as if I worked out jogging for miles. Instead, I’d ridden a dick like a bicycle last night. Thinking of it made my clit twitch.
Kyle’s hand stroking my hair let me know he was awake.
“Hey, you,” he said as I picked up my head, looking into his eyes. His charcoal-colored eyes and his alabaster teeth glimmered at me. It took me a moment to remember where I was or how I got here. The silk ties hanging from the headboard brought it back into focus.
Wow, it wasn’t a dream. I had a vivid imagination, but even I couldn’t have dreamt the occurrences of last night.
“That was amazing.” Kyle took the words out of my mouth. I smiled, recollecting the many orgasms I’d endured. Even if I were completely sober, I wouldn’t have been able to keep track of all the times and ways he pushed me to cum.
“I’m not a fat bitch, you know,” I told him, sitting up and pulling the sheets around me. He didn’t register what I was saying for a moment. I saw his mind trying to figure out what I was talking about.
“Oh, that... I was just trying to motivate you.”
Was this some type of sexual reverse psychology? He further explained, seeing the confusion on my face:
“I wasn’t trying to insult you,” he said. “I just wanted to make you mad enough to take out your aggression on me. Sometimes I like playing the submissive.”
Playing? Was this a game to him? What was Kyle talking about?
“As opposed to what? What’s usually your role?”
This guy was mysterious. His face took on this cryptic, devious smile. Last night, I didn’t get a chance to fully investigate him. This was the first time I’d done something like this: a full-fledged one-night stand, and I picked him.
Looking past Kyle to the bed post, I saw a remnant of the night before. The silk neckties were still dangling from around the wood. It was erotic seeing him tied up and helpless—riding him into submission and then him forcing me to untie him so he could take over.
“You see, I’m always in charge.” He might as well have been speaking a different language. I had no idea what he was talking about, but I liked it.
“What you did to me last night—what you allowed me to do to you—I loved it,” I told him. I remembered the squirming of his body and how I’d commanded it; how he’d nursed me to an orgasm that I never thought was possible. My legs were still sore from the trauma of cumming multiple times.
Kyle looked over me with a grin, not saying a word. As he looked down into my eyes, I felt like a deer in headlights.
“If you want that power, you can have it.” He said it like it was as simple as me grabbing someone off the street. My confusion must have worn on my face. He laughed and rubbed my forehead, dissolving the furrowed brow I was forming.
“I didn’t choose you just because I think you’re beautiful.” I blushed at his words. “I chose you because I thought you needed it.”
Now that was even more confusing.
“What?”
“A BDSM lifestyle is about taking control and relinquishing it. Your life seems out of control. I want you to take it back.”
I waited for a smile to cross his face, or a set of balloons and cameras to come from under the bed and tell me I had been Punk’d. Nothing like that happened.
He handed me a card from his nightstand. A business card, of all things, and who knew that there was a title to what he was saying?
Kyle Turner
Dominatrix Trainer
Who knew this was a profession?
“What the hell is this?” I questioned him.
“I’m a recruiter for women who want to find themselves—grow in the profession, if you will.”
What the hell did he see in me that said dominatrix? Hitting Trevor last night was the first fight I had been in since middle school. I was never the violent type, and I was far from having the ability to physically punish someone. I doubted that anyone would want that from me, anyway.
My heart sank. Here I was thinking that maybe Kyle wanted me just because, but instead, he was just trying to recruit me for some freaky fetish.
“I see something in you, even if you don’t see it in yourself.”
Why did he keep making mentions of me being something other than what I am?
“I don’t think I understand this. Like, what do I have to do? I mean... how does this work?” I felt like I was going to school—learning a new culture that was foreign to me.
“If you want to be a good Dom, then first, you must learn to be a submissive.”
These words were a growing vocabulary list. But coming off the lips of Kyle, it all felt so sexy. I felt like I could go to the moon, swim in the sky, and return to earth safely without a parachute when I listened to him. I felt high being around him, or maybe it was the remnants of the tequila. Either way, I wanted to do this thing that he was talking about.
My phone ringing interrupted us. I went to the pile of our clothes, my wobbling legs somehow managing to walk across the room and dig my cell phone out of my purse.
“Answer it. Put it on speaker,” Kyle demanded. “This is what I mean by being in control.”
I wasn’t sure he really wanted that, being that it was Trevor on the phone, but this felt exciting. Besides, what did I have to hide now?
Pressing the answer button, I immediately hit speakerphone.
“Hello?” I answered. Kyle waved me towards the bed as we waited for the caller to come on the line.
“Sam... Sam, baby, where are you? Please come home.” It was sober Trevor, not the drunk guy that called me fat, ugly, and lazy.
“I’m minding my own business,” I said and heard him whimper. He was probably crying fake tears to win my heart, but as he talked, Kyle pulled me close, kissing my lips.
“I’m really sorry for last night. I didn’t mean to hurt you, and I’m not sure what you think you saw but it’s over between me and her.”
Now he had an explanation and wanted to talk. But it was too late
. My mouth was being invaded by Kyle’s tongue. I couldn’t even respond.
“Hello? Are you there?”
“Yes... I’m... I’m here.” I tried to speak. Kyle was whispering in my ear as Trevor cried and gave more excuses in the background.
“Make him pay,” Kyle said clearly, but a piece of me was afraid to cause him any pain. Until Kyle’s tongue traveled down my neck, kissing down to my nipples and fondling them with his tongue.
“Uh... Um...Trevor, just leave me alone. Give me some space.” I tried not to moan, but it seemed that’s what Kyle wanted. He provoked moans from me, gripping my nipples with his teeth.
“What? I’m sorry, Sam. Don’t you understand that?” He continued to cry, and even more excuses flowed from his lips, but I couldn’t hear them. Kyle was kissing an imaginary trail down to my thighs.
“Get what you deserve,” Kyle said, louder this time—loud enough for Trevor to hear.
“Who is that? Where are you?”
Kyle was at my sex now, biting and nibbling, driving me to moan and scream. I couldn’t control myself.
“Do it! Take control!” Kyle said as he went back to the torture he was inflicting on my sex. He tantalized my pussy, flicking his tongue, his teeth tugging at my pussy lips and sending shivers through my body. It was hard not to obey.
Shaking, I screamed into the phone. “Trevor, it’s over!”
Kyle must have been pleased. At that moment, I felt his tongue part the lips of my pussy. Rolls of his tongue sent a seismic shudder through my body. I managed to hit the end call button with the phone falling somewhere in the sheets.
“You belong to me now.” Kyle looked at me from in between my thighs with each of my legs resting over his shoulders. “You are mine. Do you hear me?”
“Yes... Yes!” I screamed, not caring about Trevor anymore.
Kyle turned into a pussy-eating monster between my legs, licking and tasting me. My legs squirmed, feeling like 10,000 volts of electricity were passing through them.
“Say it. Say you’re mine,” Kyle coaxed me between slurps of my juices.
Without hesitation, I screamed out the words he wanted to hear. Over and over, I told him that I, Samantha Dennison, belonged to him. I wanted to give every part of myself to this man, and I barely knew him.
But right now, at this moment, I wanted to do what he said—be his sub, learn to be a dominatrix; learn to get what I wanted from those bastards that hurt me.
I belonged to Kyle, and I would learn, and make him proud.
*****
Trevor was waiting at the door when I came home. Tear streaked face with red eyes; he was the mirror image of how I had looked last night.
“Sam, you’re home. Baby, I’m so sorry.” He wrapped his arms around me. I stood there, not returning his hug, but not moving him off me, either. Did he not hear what I’d said earlier? I wanted this to be done, but maybe he didn’t get the hint.
“Trevor, get off me.” He raised his head in horror.
“Why? What do you mean? I told you, it was a mistake.” As if he only spilled a glass of milk or put bleach on my favorite shirt.
I walked away from him, peeling out of his embrace and heading for our bedroom. The house was a dump. The floor was littered with bottles and clothes, debris of what was probably another one of Trevor’s binges when he got home. The asshole didn’t even have the decency to clean up after himself, and this was the exact behavior I was upset with. Trevor thought of everyone else except for me and my feelings.
“Thanks for cleaning up.” My sarcasm was thick as I disappeared into the bedroom. That was the only room that was clean. I tried shutting the door behind me, but Trevor was right on my heels.
“So you want me gone? You want me to leave, when you know I’m sick...”
Here it was; the ultimate guilt trip. Whenever I got the courage to leave him, this was what happened. He would say something that would make me feel bad and I would stay. I would forgive Trevor’s offenses, no matter how bad, and continue our dysfunctional life. I was fully aware of his tactics, but somehow, I was helpless to stopping myself from falling victim.
“You are sick. You are a sick piece of shit, and I want you out of my life.” It was more of me begging than demanding.
Why couldn’t he just leave me alone? Why wasn’t last night enough for me to rid myself of the two-year headache that was Trevor? I wanted to celebrate after leaving Kyle’s house after finally feeling like I had the courage to leave him.
“What the hell, Sam? I’m trying to get help, and it was a mistake. I’m sorry.” Trevor started crying, crocodile tears falling down his face. I didn’t want to care. I wanted to kick him while he was down.
But I couldn’t. We had been through too much, and no matter what Kyle said, I wasn’t sure that anyone else really wanted me but Trevor.
I put my arms around him, hugging him as he sobbed on my shoulder and spouted incoherent apologies and explanations.
I wasn’t sure when he became such a drug for me. At first, I tried to change him. Going to AL-Anon and taking him to Alcoholics Anonymous meetings were my early obsessions. Making sure he stayed sober was my job.
Then his stints of sobriety turned into raging binges of drinking. One day, I just felt it would be better if I joined him. That day it happened here, in our kitchen. I came home to find him sneaking a drink—some small cognac bottle that he was trying to hide under the sink. But I caught him.
I stood in the kitchen, staring at his face, feeling so disgusted and tired. Instead of kicking him out that day, I grabbed the bottle and drank the rest.
He kissed me as if I’d confessed my love for him. I guess that day was when he felt I finally understood him. Instead of running off to a meeting and drinking gallons of water to rid his body of the alcohol, we made love.
On the kitchen floor, he brought every bottle of alcohol that he had stashed around the house. It was a Thanksgiving of booze, and to celebrate, we made love right there on the kitchen floor. He ripped my clothes off and poured vodka on my chest, licking it off as we made love. I drank too, guzzling a vodka bottle as he entered me, slamming his pelvis into mine.
That day, Trevor and I changed for the worse.
Instead of me encouraging him not to drink, I made beer runs with him. Our house was always stocked, and I turned into the thing I tried to stop him from being.
“You finally understand me,” Trevor had said back then after we were done.
That day, I should have demanded that he leave.
Now I couldn’t get rid of him, or maybe I wasn’t strong enough to rid myself of Trevor.
“Will you ever forgive me?” he asked, peeling his head from my shoulder and looking into my eyes.
“Sure, babe. I forgive you.”
He kissed me. The same lips that kissed that woman were now on my lips. I wanted to throw up, but I had also kissed somebody. Shit... how did I get myself into this?
I saw the bruises on Trevor’s face. I guessed that was from me. That broke my heart even more.
“Babe, why don’t you go take a shower? I’m going to clean up, and maybe later I can take you to a meeting.”
He smiled at that. Trevor finally had me, and he knew it. Crying and a few I love you’s was all it took to get old low self-esteem Sam back in his pocket.
“Okay, hun. Thank you. I’m sorry again, and I love you so much.” He gave me one final kiss before he scurried off to the bathroom.
Today was Sunday, usually the day that I dreaded going to work—the day I hated to coax Trevor from a hangover and beg him to help me with household tasks. I would be alone in cleaning the house today. As history would have it, Trevor would probably sleep after his shower and not wake up until the morning. His binges were always followed by extreme hunger and coma-like sleep.
Walking through the house, I began picking up hidden, discarded bottles, which was always sobering. In the linen closet was a half-drunken bottle of scotch between the extra sheets and pi
llowcases. Under my bed were a dozen empty beer cans, and on my nightstand was a bottle of Riesling wine—empty, of course.
Now wine was my addiction. In the kitchen, I decided to drink the last of the Zinfandel as Trevor took a shower. One full glass and my thoughts mingled in with the sound of the shower. As I walked around, now one hand was on the trashcan, and the other was wrapped around my now half-full glass of Zinfandel.
I’d already started the weekly purge of bottles and cans that seemed to accumulate around the house, but I was distracted; glimpses of me in the mirror made me look like a recently-rescued kidnapping victim. My hair was disheveled, my shirt was wrinkled, but my skin glowed. Every part of me was covered in Kyle’s scent.
I wished I could have bottled up that smell of him—how his neck smelled of cologne and some masculine musk as I bit his neck when he pounded into me. We had sex so many times last night that I lost count, and in ways that I hadn’t tried in... ever.
I remembered the fresh smell of his bed sheets from when my face was buried in them as he slapped my ass and entered me from behind.
All of it was like an aphrodisiac to me, and as I sipped my wine, I wished I could go back to the land of Kyle: a place where my pleasure mattered; where he coaxed me to cum. I dared not say the “L word,” but after one night with that man, I felt like I could fuck Kyle every day for the rest of my life.
My phone ringing made me forget about Kyle.
“Hello?” I said, putting down my now empty glass of wine.
The voice of my best friend came through the phone. In all the chaos of yesterday, I hadn’t had time to call and give her the scoop.
“Sam, you okay? I’ve been calling you.” Tracy was right. I saw at least a half dozen missed calls from her this morning, but I was a little preoccupied.
“Sorry, I was a little tied up last night.” Which was the truth. I wasn’t sure how to go about telling her what happened last night.
“I bet. Trevor called me looking for you.” I wasn’t surprised to hear that.
“Things got crazy last night.” Tracy didn’t press me with questions; she was cool in that way. She let me say what was on my mind. She knew that I would tell her everything when I was ready, and right now, I wasn’t ready to tell anyone.
Drunk In Love: The Complete Series: BBW BDSM Erotica Page 3
