His hand twisted in her hair and she felt truly owned...and comforted by that ownership. It pulled her face closer to his thick cock and her mouth opened to swallow him. He didn't stop pushing until the bulbous head caught in the back of her throat. She suppressed her gag reflex and allowed him to push and felt the length of him filling her mouth and going into her throat. Once fully stuffed into her mouth and throat, he held her there. She felt full and close to panicking. She needed to breathe but he held her there. Was this a test? Finally her gag reflex kicked in and she pulled away, choking a little as spittle clung to his now hard cock. She caught her breath and struggled to accommodate him as he immediately pushed back into her face.
His hips flexed forward and over and over he pushed into her. "That's a good slut," he whispered, "Do you like having your face fucked?"
She considered trying to answer, but knew that it would involve having to remove him from her mouth. And that wasn't happening until he chose the time for it to stop. Her answer instead, was to increase her efforts at laving his thick shaft, to flick at the purple head with her tongue, and to swallow his entire length each time it was roughly pushed into her face.
She couldn't believe it; she was enjoying it. She was astounded at her need to please him and amazed by her lack of fear. Everything she craved...
But the thought was interrupted. He pulled his twitching cock from her mouth and strands of her saliva mixed with his pre-cum stretched from her lips to his engorged head.
"Up," he ordered and she struggled to stand quickly on wobbly legs. The heels didn't help nor did her excitement at what was happening. Despite it being what she'd never allowed herself to admit that she wanted, she still felt like she was living a dream.
On her feet, she stood facing him until he physically grabbed her shoulders and spun her around. She felt herself pushed against the cold, unyielding metal of the refrigerator and her nipples crinkled and she screamed inwardly at the sensation. She felt him behind her. A finger deftly traced the bumps of her spine. It reached the soft curve of the small of her back and slowed, but did not stop. Dipping into the crack of her ass, it continued to explore and stopped just short of touching her most taboo spot. "Oh God..." she started to think.
But it was removed. Two hands firmly gripped her hips and pulled her away from the refrigerator. She was forced to step backwards about two feet. His foot intruded between her heels and gently kicked them apart until her feet were just wider than her shoulder width. The movement had forced her to pull away from the cold face of the refrigerator, but his insistent hand pushed her face back towards it and she was forced to bend at the waist. The heels jutted her ass out behind her and the position of being bent forward with her back straight made it worse...or better.
His hand caressed the curve of her right cheek. Its soft skin was explored by his firm hand and she could feel his breathing behind her. The hand was removed and then a stinging pain coursed through her. Again it hit. He was spanking her ass, hard! She couldn't believe it. Five minutes after admitting her submissive nature and she had already happily had her face fucked and now she was getting a spanking. What could be next?
The spanking continued for five or six more swats. She could feel the heat building in her right ass cheek and it was strangely exciting to her. She was being driven crazy by the erotic pain and when he dragged his nails across the incredibly hot area, she could feel her pussy get wet. She couldn't believe it; she was so happy yet wanted to cry from the pain. But not a sad crying, no. She was ready to cry tears of joy at finally getting him to take a dominant role in their sex play.
The insistent finger returned to her ass cheek. The other hand joined it and she felt herself being spread open from behind. "Oh...no..." she wasn't sure how she felt about that. While she prepared to express her concern, her thought was interrupted by his finger--moistened from his mouth--swirling gently over her anus. "Oh...that feels so..." She couldn't even finish the thought. She had fantasized about this most taboo of acts and couldn't believe that for the first time in her life, she was being touched on her tiny hole. He was playing with her asshole and she found she was actually pushing back. It was so naughty, she couldn't believe she was enjoying it.
And pressure was increased. He continued to swirl his finger around her butthole, but the pressure increased. "Does he intend to penetrate my ass?" she thought to herself. The finger pushed, never relenting, until her sphincter relaxed and the tip of his finger entered her. The feeling was strange, exotic, and she moaned a little.
"What was that, Slut?" he asked from behind her.
"Nothing, Sir," she answered.
No answer. Well at least no verbal answer. The response to her silence was to increase the pressure yet again. She felt her ass being invaded by a sensation she'd never felt before. As she fought to remain quiet and not displease her new Dominant, she found herself pushing back lewdly, trying to engulf more of his finger in her tight asshole.
The finger was removed. She nearly screamed with frustration. She'd been on the long, slow buildup to an orgasm and now the stimulation had been removed. She almost cried from the loss of his invading finger.
And then, she felt a new sensation. She felt something wet, prying, and soft poking at her asshole. With a fright, she realized that he had knelt behind her and was holding her cheeks apart while he teased her sensitive spot with his tongue. "Oh my God," she screamed in her mind. "This can't be happening. Is he really going to...?"
The amazing feeling of his tongue poking into her most secret spot combined with the incredibly "wrong" nature of it cut off her thoughts and she fought to not collapse backwards onto his face. The orgasm was approaching and she reeled at the thought that this taboo stimulus was driving her over the edge.
When he grunted and pushed his tongue into her, past the resistant sphincter of her anus, and probed her asshole, she fought off the explosion that was building inside her. "Was she allowed to cum?" she wondered. There had been no talk of this; she didn't know what was allowed.
But when the tongue pushed further up her ass and began to wiggle, she thought she might come apart. A finger snaked upwards, between her legs, and searched out her clit. When the finger touched it, she could fight it no more. Her orgasm crashed over her, radiated outwards from her pussy and ass, and drove her harder into the fridge. Her ass pushed backwards, tight against his face and tongue. She screamed, cried, laughed, and howled as if she was being blown apart from the inside. He held her with his arms around her legs and his face between the cheeks of her ass while she recovered from the powerful orgasm. The sensation of being held around the waist was similar to the one she'd felt earlier that night when she'd had her pussy eaten in a similar way.
At some point, she realized that she was breathing again. He was gone. She was alone in the kitchen, still naked, still barely standing on shaking legs, and feeling so much more...complete than before. She had what she wanted. She'd offered her submission and had a taste of what being taken roughly was like. She'd become an object, a cherished toy, to be used by him whenever he wanted. She was happy, and strangely so.
Re-entering the bedroom, she moved to their bed. He stirred and sat up straight. "Where have you been, Baby? I thought I heard a noise and woke up wondering if it was you."
Shock, dismay, anger, and finally contentment spread across her face in the dark as Charlene fell back asleep.
The End.
The Headhunter Mistress
It had started with a phone call. I was at work when my office line rang.
"This is John."
"Hey John, this is Miss Sinclaire. I was recently referred to you. I'm just calling to introduce myself."
"Oh, uhm hello."
"Full disclosure," she laughed. "I'm part of an executive search firm. I'm sure you're happy and successful and not actively looking for a change. But, I wonder.... Would you ever consider making a move for the right reasons?"
I said no.
She said coyly
, "tell me you wouldn't consider making a move for the wrong reasons?"
I laughed, "actually I'm at work."
"Of course," she said. "give me a better number to reach you after work."
I hesitated for just one second... but there was something about the way she asked. But she didn't ask. She just spoke, expecting me to comply. I thought about hanging up right then, but there was something about this woman's voice on the other line. After all, I perhaps I could use a job change. This job was fine. But, what if there was another job that suited me better... I gave her my cell phone number.
"Good boy," she purred. "I'll call you after work sometime. And she hung up.
Once five o'clock hit, I was staring at my phone just waiting for it to ring. But it didn't. It didn't ring that night, and it didn't ring the following night. It was a whole week before I got a call from her office. It wasn't her, but a man from her office. He was calling to set up a time for me to meet Miss Sinclaire in her office. I was irritated that she didn't call me herself. Why was another man calling me? Why didn't she call me? It didn't take that long. I couldn't believe my anxiety. What had happened that I wanted to speak to the woman on the other end of the line so desperately. I took a breath, trying to calm myself down, and then set a time with the man.
Two days later I was in her office.
The male secretary out front told me to wait in the front area. He asked if I'd like any coffee, water? I politely declined and sat down in the waiting room. I waited for fifteen minutes. I thought about asking the secretary if Miss Sinclaire was out, wondering if I should come back. But I decided to give Miss Sinclaire a few more minutes. Perhaps she was busy. I sat in the plush leather chairs, waiting.
Fifteen minutes later Miss Sinclaire emerged from the hallway, reaching out her hand.
"Mr. Smith?" She said. "Pleasure to meet you."
"Thank you," I said shaking her hand.
"Follow me."
She took the lead down the hallway. I tried not to notice her incredible figure, as she walked down the length of the hallway to the executive suite towards the back. She opened the door, gestured for me to sit.
She stood over me, waiting for me to sit. I sat down. She walked behind my desk, almost inspecting me, and then she sat down across from me, on the other side of a large mahogany desk.
"I'm glad you could make it," she said.
I looked up, as if caught off guard. "Yes," I said. Was I stammering? If I wasn't careful, I'd be hypnotized by her figure. Something about the way she demanded attention.
"Vice President of Operations," she said.
"That's me."
"Do you make over two hundred thousand dollars?"
"Not yet."
"Why not?"
"I... well, I don't know."
"Perhaps that's part of the problem."
"What do you mean?"
"If you're going to rise, you have to be able to make decisions... but it doesn't seem like you can."
"I can, I do. I think I do a pretty good job of managing everything I need to do."
"Perhaps it would be better if you managed less."
"I don't understand."
"Perhaps if you could focus your efforts on just one thing, you'd be able to get more done."
" That would be great."
"Then it's settled. I have the perfect job for you."
"Really? Don't you want to know what I do."
"Not really. "
I hesitated. "What kind of job."
"You're going to be my new Executive Assistant."
"Excuse me?"
"You just said it yourself, you have far too many things to focus on. Now I'm going to give you one thing to focus on. Me."
"I'm an executive Vice President, I'm not going to quit my job to become an executive assistant."
"You don't think you would like serving me?"
The way she said it. I was getting hard. I couldn't believe it. I had to retain my focus.
"It's not that I don't like... I mean... it's not that..."
"Did I say quit your job?"
"No...." I stammered.
"No you're going to have two jobs. Your first job is to be my executive assistant, and your second job is to be the executive vice president."
"I have responsibilities..."
"What if I could promise you that you would achieve more at your current job, if you could make more money than you've every made, if you would just do what I say?"
"I don't... know."
"You can feel it. This is what you've been looking for hasn't it?"
I tried to look away from her eyes. "Uhm... I don't..."
"You've been searching for something to submit to.... To serve, haven't you?"
"I..."
And then she turned off the seductive charm. "I'm thirsty. Be a good boy and fetch me some water over there."
I instinctively got up and walked across the office and returned to her with a glass of water.
"Set it down," she said. And I did. "There... do you see how easy it was?"
I couldn't believe I just went and did it without question.
"You see how every part of you wants to give up control, and just serve?"
I wanted to argue with her. I wanted to step back into my role as the big man, as the Vice President... but something just felt so warm and comfortable around me.
She got up and walked towards me, sitting on the desk in front of me. Her nylon stockings stretched over her fantastic legs. She crossed them in front of me. I felt entranced. Like a dog just waiting for his master to drop down a treat.
"What if all I ever asked you to do was something that brought you pleasure?"
"I don't understand."
"What if, by serving me, you experienced more pleasure than you had ever experienced in your life. As if.... You became the thing you were destined to be. Like a child coming home."
"More money than I've ever made?"
"Infinitely more."
"What would you have me do?"
"All sorts of things. Things that brought me pleasure. And because they brought me pleasure, they would bring you pleasure."
"What if I told you to unzip your pants and start stroking?"
"Excuse me?"
"You don't find me attractive?"
"Yes, but..."
"Then do it," she said. "Take it out and stroke it."
For a moment I hesitated, but my hands involuntarily were reaching for my zipper. "Wait," she snapped. "Not there... do it properly. Get on your knees."
She touched the top of my head. Her touch was like getting a high. She put just the tiniest amount of pressure on my head and I slid off the chair and dropped to my knees.
"There you go, that's a good boy. Stroke it for me."
I sat there, on my knees, stroking myself, looking up at her.
"This is where you belong, you realize."
"Yes," I grunted.
"You feel good?"
Looking up at her tall legs, wishing I could see underneath her skirt, looking up at her figure from below, towering over me, how could I not feel good. "Yes!" I said, with a loud sound that surprised even myself.
"You realize that once you come, you'll stop being a man. When you come here, and offer your cum to me, you'll stop being a man. You'll just be a boy. My good boy. You understand?"
I wanted to stop. I wanted to have control. But something was slipping away from me. A warm haze took over my body and all I wanted was to keep going. To keep stroking. To keep obeying.
"Yes," I said.
"You're not a man, are you?"
"No," I grunted.
"But you're my good boy."
"Yes."
"Now cum," she said.
And instantly, as if I had no control over my body, I ejaculated onto the floor at her feet. This must be what heroin addicts feel like when they get a hit. My eyes rolled back up into my head, my vision cloudy. I felt Miss Sinclaire put her hand next to my face and whisper so
ftly,
"You belong to me now."
The following morning I was emailed a conference number to call into and I called in at 7:30am, sharp. I was the fourth person to enter the conference line. Moments later, after there were ten or so people on the line I realized that I wasn't alone. This was a weekly conference call with all of Miss Sinclaire's Executive Assistants from around the world calling to report in, give status updates, and take orders. During the call I was given an assignment to perform that day before the next conference call. I hung up the phone with a mixture of anxiety, terror, and excitement. What had I done? What world was I entering. I could barely contain myself as I went about my day with clarity and purpose.
The End.
She Gets What She Wants
The bell rang, and Rodney Gellar watched as his students filtered from his classroom, most on cell phones, all of them placing their personal essays on his desk as they walked by.
"Mr. Gellar?" a soft voice asked and Rod, as he was known to his fiance and friends, and he looked up into Elizabeth Blaylock's baby blues.
"Yes, Bitsy?" Rod responded, hoping to keep this conversation to a minimum. As a 27 year old teacher, with a full head of dark brown hair, green eyes, and a body he worked hard for, who had been teaching for 3 years, Rod knew that he was kind of considered a hot teacher. He'd been dealing with school girl crushes for years now, but...
With Bitsy, it was different. It wasn't the fact that she was drop-dead gorgeous, which she was; with long, wavy red hair and blue eyes, she looked like a life-sized cupie doll, but with huge breasts. They were Ds, at the very least. And it wasn't the fact that every time she looked at him, you could tell she was thinking about bending backwards for some extra credit - literally.
It was more the fact that when she breathed fire at him, and he saw the images that he knew she was thinking, he... well, he wanted to breath fire right back.
One time, during one of his lectures, he'll glance at her in the second row, and she'll just be staring at him, with her eyes glazed over, biting her lower lip, nipples poking through her shirt... and he knew she was mentally licking him like a lollipop.
Mega Huge Collection of Rougher Daddies Page 33
