Mommy's Hot Erotica

by Alina Sawyer

  He always flirted with me, but I was always too scared to flirt back or even believe it was real. I couldn't believe a man like him would want me. I tried to deny his attraction towards me, but I could no longer mistake the hunger in his eyes when he looked at me.

  He always watched me move, like a hunter marking his prey. His gaze was predatory and that scared me, but I couldn't stop thinking about him. He was all male and I had never met anyone like him before.

  He enthralled me, but the aura of danger that seemed to surround him made me nervous. I always fumbled and blushed when he was around, hoping he didn't notice me messing up. He always did though, and his smile was ever-present. He knew why I kept fumbling in his presence.

  Lately, it had been increasingly hard for me to keep my fantasies in the bedroom, where I would lie and think of him while I was touching myself. I would come hard, calling out his name. The thought of him had been teasing me for months and had finally started to consume me.

  One night, I was playing with myself and fantasizing about him once again. Thinking about him always gave me a feeling of falling. No, it was more than that. It was like I was desperate to fall, to keep falling and falling. It was a feeling that made my knees weak and something I couldn't describe build up inside me. I was starting to feel like I couldn't be without him anymore; my need for him was overriding my fears for the first time.

  I wanted him to take over, to let me have it. I wanted him to push me to my limits, to use me, to take me. I needed him to leave me with marks I could look at later and think about him, about what went on. I wanted to be weak and, for the first time, let him see it without me being too embarrassed to admit it. I would be anything he asked me to be, do anything he asked of me. I needed him and the mere thought of him was not enough anymore. Not when the thought alone was almost enough to make me come. I could not stand it anymore and I needed to let him know.

  I didn't care what he thought of my fumbling anymore, I needed things to change. I needed to finally ask him. No, not ask. I needed to beg. I needed to beg for him to fuck me, to take me, to kiss me, to touch me. "Damn. Is this what being in heat is like?" I wondered, confused but determined to at least try.

  "I can't stand another second without him."

  I didn't have the courage to call him; I didn't trust my voice anymore. So I sent him a text message, which read, 'I can't do this anymore. I can't play this game. Finish it and come and take me. No more playing around. Please.' I started to shake as soon as my finger hit the send button.

  Within two minutes the answer arrived. 'Where are you? Are you at home? I'm coming over.'

  It felt like time stopped when I read his reply. The 20 minutes it took for him to arrive were the longest of my life.

  Then again, I always found ways to occupy myself when I was waiting for him to come over and this time was no different. I sometimes wondered if he had any idea of how I had been touching myself and moaning his name just minutes before he came in, or if he could smell what I had just done in the air.

  After the longest while I heard a knock on the door. I rushed to open it, I knew how he hated to be kept waiting. I felt the cold air from outside rush to meet me, sobering my thoughts for a second. I let him in and suddenly I couldn't look him in the eye anymore. I was frozen to the spot, afraid to touch him. Just one word slipped through my lips, so quietly I could only hope he had heard it. "Please."

  He understood. The very second the word had passed from my lips, the door slammed shut and I was being pushed against the wall, his hands holding my wrists above my head. Everything was spinning as he pressed against me and his freezing cold jacket burned my skin.

  All the power I thought had this past few weeks left me. I could no longer fight this. I surrendered. His mouth was on mine, his tongue in my mouth, demanding, his lips swallowing my moans and my pleas. I kept repeating one word even if it was lost in the midst of everything else. "Please."

  My knees started to weaken and if he hadn't been holding me, I wouldn't have been able to keep myself upright, not even with the wall at my back. His hot breath caressed my neck as he whispered, "I've been waiting for you to be ready."

  He let go of my hands and they fell against my sides; I had nothing left in me to hold them up, no strength to do anything else but feel. His hands were strong, like they were made of steel, and all over my body, touching me everywhere. They were in my hair, pulling it to give him better access to my neck. His hands were on my breasts, squeezing and kneading them. They were grabbing my ass, touching my face, making my back arch under his touch.

  His fingers zeroed in under my skirt. I had chosen it specifically for this. He had once commented on it being a bit too slutty to wear in public, but he had seemed to like it anyway.

  "Are you wet, baby? Are you wet for me already?" he asked.

  I could only moan in response. I felt his movements, his fingers creeping up my thighs, closer to the heat. I knew he would soon feel how wet I was for him. I know I should have been embarrassed, but I wanted him to feel what he did to me. I needed him to touch me, to touch my pussy.

  I spread my legs a little wider to give him better access. His fingers stopped just over my panties and I was sure he could feel the heat I radiated. He didn't go any further than that and I wanted to cry. I was so frustrated. I needed him to take me right then and there. "Please," I begged.

  Suddenly he lifted me into his arms and carried me to the bedroom. He knew his way around my place, having been there so many times before. He kicked the door open and threw me roughly onto my bed.

  "Stay still," he commanded. "Watch me."

  He looked me straight in the eyes and started taking his clothes off. His leather jacket fell to the floor. Then he slowly unbuttoned his shirt and with every button that came undone, I could feel the same thing happening to me. I was getting wetter by the moment.

  I felt my urgency for him in my fingers; I so wanted to touch him. I felt it in my mouth, the need to kiss him, to taste him, to shout his name, to beg him. I felt it in the pit of my stomach. Lastly, I felt my pussy starting to ache with a need I knew only he could satisfy.

  His shirt was on the floor and he began unbuckling his belt. I wanted to feel that leather on my skin. I wanted him to tie me up with it someday. I wanted him so much; I needed him to own me.

  The rest of his clothes soon followed and he was standing before me naked and hard.

  "Do you like what you see, baby girl? See what you have been missing out on?" he asked.

  I held my breath and I couldn't stop looking at him. He exuded raw power and an untamed wildness. He was beautiful and strong.

  He leant over and grabbed my shirt, ripping it in half. The buttons went flying everywhere and I started to shake with my need for him. In an almost violent frenzy, he got rid of the rest of my clothes. My skirt and underwear were gone before I even noticed. In no time at all, I was naked before him, like I had dreamt of being since the day I had met him. His eyes were all over me.

  "Please," I begged. I couldn't stand another second without him inside of me. "Please."

  The tension in the air was almost unbearable. I didn't want him to stop. I didn't want to let it end now that I had come so close. I was frustrated and nervous, but I didn't want to wait anymore.

  Then, suddenly, his hard mouth was on mine, his body on top of me. Our tongues met and I got lost in the sensations of him kissing me. I started to touch him everywhere. I needed to feel his body, to feel his strength over me. I needed to run my nails over his back. I needed to draw him even closer to me. I wanted to feel his full weight on me. I needed to feel that this was real, that he was there, and that this was not another one of my fantasies that would leave me feeling empty the next morning. No more cheap substitutes, I could not handle them anymore.

  He was on top of me and I felt his hardness pressing against me. It was hot and as hard as steel. I arched my back and wrapped my legs around him, trying to bring him closer to me so that I could feel
every inch of him and all of his strength.

  Without any warning, he drove his cock into me. He didn't hesitate, but I knew he wouldn't. There would be no more games and no more delay. I could only moan in response.

  He started pounding into me while whispering in my ear, "That's it, baby. You wanted this. You wanted me. Now you're having me, all of me. No compromises. Beg me, baby. Beg me to let you come. Beg me."

  I could feel myself shaking as I pleaded and chanted his name. "Please. Please, yes. Please. Please!"

  I felt waves of heat rolling over me, engulfing me, demanding my surrender. My back arched and my hands grabbed the sheets, grabbed him and anything else I could reach.

  I shouted his name when I came, my pussy quivering around his hard member. He didn't stop, instead he started to fuck me even harder. With each thrust, I fell further, moaning his name, pleading with him. Begging him. I couldn't stop, even when my voice started to become hoarse.

  He bit my nipples, pulling them with his teeth and leaving his marks on me. His hands pushed me down on to the mattress, his grip becoming rougher and tighter the closer he got to his orgasm. His fingers gripping my shoulders felt like they were made of iron.

  My head spun and I came again. I felt him join me with one final thrust. The pleasure was unbelievable. One wave after another hit me as my nails dug into his shoulders hard enough to draw blood. I had made my small mark on him too.

  We both laid on the mattress struggling to breathe. "You are mine now," he whispered in my ear.

  I don't know why I resisted for so long when surrender was this sweet.

  The End.

  Spoiling for a Fight

  I am in a mood tonight. It's hard to describe, kind of feisty I guess.

  As I walk up to my Dom's door, I start to imagine what the night may have in store. He'll expect me to come in, strip down and assume my presenting position: kneeling on the floor with my hands behind my head, breasts out, waiting for inspection. But you know what? I don't feel like doing that tonight. I don't feel like being the good little submissive and doing every single thing I'm told. I want to be a real person tonight. I want to give him a run for his money, make him work for my submission. Does that make me a bad sub? Maybe, but I really don't give a shit. Not tonight.

  I yank open the front door and walk into his living room. The room is dimly lit, only one small light on in the far corner. I can see my mat in the middle of the floor. That's where I'm supposed to go to present myself.

  Fuck that! I slam the front door closed then saunter over to the couch, feeling saucy in my tight jeans and form fitting baby tee. I let the 4 inch heal of my strappy sandals add extra swagger to my walk even though there's no one in the room to see it because dammit, I feel like hot shit tonight!

  Plopping down on the middle cushion, legs crossed, arms stretched out over the back, swinging my crossed leg furiously, I wait.

  I don't have to wait long though. I assume the slammed front door got my Dom's attention. He walks slowly into the living room, coming to stand in front of me with his legs spread shoulder width apart. He crosses his arms over his chest. He tilts his head to the side, his lips quirking up at the corners, one eyebrow raised. As he considers me I can tell he is amused by my little show of defiance. I don't get bratty with him often and when I do, he counters swiftly and with force. Usually he pulls me over his lap and spanks me until I'm on the verge of tears. Then he lets me 'make it up to him' by sucking his cock. Again I say, fuck that! I'm not going down (no pun intended) without a fight.

  I look up the length of his six foot frame to his handsome face. I am momentarily distracted by the sex appeal he seems to ooze. His muscular legs are clad in nicely worn jeans, finished with a black leather belt. His strong arms are crossed over a soft gray Polo and his feet are bare. Shaking myself to help me focus, I narrow my eyes and steel myself for his reaction.

  In his usual calm voice he asks, "Are you planning on presenting yourself to me properly?"

  I sit up a little straighter and lift my chin confidently. In for a penny, in for a pound... "No." I simply say.

  "Ok. Would you care to tell me why?" He is curious now, but still disturbingly calm.

  "Because I don't FEEL like it." I say just a little too snotty.

  Both eyebrows go up. "Really?" He draws the word out slowly. When I nod my head, he laughs with such joy I might almost be fooled into thinking he's in a great mood. Unfortunately, I know better. Yes, I admit, that laugh makes me a little nervous, but it pisses me off at the same time. I'm not in the mood to be laughed at as if I'm an insignificant little bug, easily crushed beneath his boot. Hell no! Tonight I'm a force to be reckoned with!

  Strengthening my resolve, I lift my crossed leg, planting the heel of my shoe against his hip and give a little push. With lightening fast reflexes, he grabs my ankle, pulling me forward so that I slump down on the couch with my ass hanging off the cushions. Using both hands, he grabs me by the waist and flips me over onto my stomach, then shoves a hand down in the middle of my back, holding me down. Using his free hand, he smacks my ass, several stinging blows.

  I yelp, startled by the suddenness of his movements. The smacks bite a little, but he's not really hurting me. Having my face pushed indignantly into the cushions sparks my rage. I start thrashing wildly, trying to flip over so I'll have better use of my arms. Apparently he wasn't expecting me to fight because I manage to get to my side. He is standing over me with his legs straddling my lower body, so I roll a little more, bumping his right leg and knocking him off balance. He falls to the side with a cuss, landing on his ass on the floor next to me. Surprised that I managed to get him off me, I just stare dumbly at him for a minute.

  Quickly recovering, he says, "You little bitch. You wanna play, huh?" He is smiling and I can tell by his tone that he's still amused, maybe even a little excited by my struggling. He doesn't really see me as a challenge, but the look of determination in his eyes tells me he plans to make me pay.

  Common sense finally hits me and I decide it might be best to put a little distance between us. On all fours, I start to scramble away, but he must sense my intent because he lunges forward. He grabs a fistful of my hair, yanking my head back and stopping my escape. He throws his whole body weight on my back, pinning me to the floor beneath him.

  Pulling my head to the side, he bites my neck then says, "Oh no you don't. You started this little game, now you're going to finish it." He slaps my face then heaves himself up, pulling me up by my hair with him. I struggle to get to my feet, my hands clawing at his fist where it's gripping my hair. He's pulling hard and it's starting to hurt. He slaps both of my hands as his grip on my hair tightens, making me whimper a little.

  Pulling me back against his chest, he wraps an arm around my neck, forcing my head back and up. He lets go of my hair and slaps my face again, a little harder this time. Then he grips my chin and turns it slightly towards him, "Are you done playing? Are you ready to present yourself properly?"

  He may have me at a disadvantage, but I'm not done yet. When I don't answer right away, he tightens his arm around my neck, putting pressure on my throat and making me gasp for breath. He raises his arm putting even more pressure on my neck which makes me have to stand up on tip toes to relieve a little of the pressure. I clutch at his arm, fighting for air, but he tightens his grip more.

  Dropping his voice about an octave, making it more menacing, he says, "I said, are you done playing?" He loosens his hold on my neck so I can speak. I gasp for a much needed breath. The fresh oxygen fuels the fire of my rage. I'm mad at myself for letting him get the upper hand so quickly and mad at him for not giving me a sporting chance. We both know he's stronger, but it would be nice to at least think I might win once in a while.

  I need him to loosen his hold more or better yet, let go, so I can make another attempt at escape. So I try to relax my body, make it look like I'm giving up. I slowly nod my head, not fighting him anymore.

  To my surprise, he doe
sn't loosen his grip. He drags me backwards and throws me face down on the floor with him on top of me. The force of hitting the floor knocks the wind out of me, leaving me speechless and dazed for a moment. In that moment he grabs my arms and wrenches them up behind my back, holding them with one of this hands. I squeak in protest at this new pain.

  As my breath comes back to me, I try to reason with him. "Daddy, what are you doing? I said I was done playing. I'll be good."

  He barks out a laugh. "Yeah right! I know you better than that, sweetheart." He shifts his body off me, leaving one leg over mine and keeping his hold on my arms. He uses his free hand to slap my ass several more times, very hard. I scream as the sting builds up, struggling to free my hands so I can cover my ass.

  He leans in close to my ear and drops his voice, "Go ahead, struggle. I'm going to enjoy this even more, cunt."

  His threat instantly excites me, making me dripping wet and scared shitless at the same time. My heart rate speeds up and I can feel the juices building between my legs. I am suddenly very aware of every part of his body that's touching me. The heat of his long, strong body pressed against mine. His breath on my neck. The way he has my arms and legs pinned, making me feel trapped. I know he is about to use me...roughly. My fight or flight instincts kick in.

  I rear up, slamming my head into his face. He reflexively lets go of my hands to protect his face and I use the opportunity to thrash wildly and push him away. I roll away from him, hastily getting to my feet. On shaky legs, I lumber a few steps, but he catches my ankle and pulls back. I fall flat on my face. He grabs my other ankle and I kick out madly, trying to aim for his face, but his grip is too strong, I can't get my foot free. He pulls me backwards. I claw madly at the floor, trying to find purchase, but the dark hard woods are too smooth. He gets a firm grip on my legs and flips me onto my back.