wheelchair sex
"UnderDom" (3)
March 4, 2013 March 1, 2013 / vanillamom	/ 18 Comments
"Are you sure you're okay?" Dan blotted the gouge over Michael's left eye.
"I'm fine." Truthfully, his head bonged in rhythm with the music.
"Looks like you might need stitches."
"Well…fuck."
"I can take you."
The soft voice caused both men to turn quickly. She raised her hand to steady Michael, who swayed a bit in his seat. So much for suave first impressions, he thought.
"You drive?"
"No, I was offering for you to sit in my lap so I could roll us both 25 blocks in my wheelchair." He blinked at her sarcasm, then smiled. He liked that she was a bit of a smartass.
"What's the crip doing here?"
The caustic tone caught everyone by surprise. Shae's eyes narrowed. Michael scowled. Dan took a step forward.
"'snot like she can get on the fuckin' cross or stand for a beating..right, you fake whore?" Samantha wove unsteadily, pointing her finger at Shae. That she was very drunk was apparent.
"What did you just call me?"
"Fake. Fucking. Whore. You can't satisfy him. Crip like you? Yor pussy is dead anyway…"
Shae rose slowly from her chair.
"The crip walks!" Sam hooted with mean laughter. Then promptly bent over holding her nose and howling. Shae shook out her hand, sinking back into her chair.
"Call me a fucking crip one more time," she warned, her tone steely, "and I'll break more than your nose, sweetheart."
"She hit me."
"Shaddup, you know you like it," said an onlooker. There were assorted snorts and giggles. It was hard to not be pleased with Sam's comeuppance …many here had been the target of her mean jokes.
"And it's time for you all to disperse," Dan spoke sternly, glaring at the assembled crowd. He hooked an arm around Samantha's waist, and escorted her to the office, where he called a cab for her. He waited until it came, paid the driver in advance, and watched until the tail-lights faded into the night.
"You have a cool car."
"It's adapted. It gets me from place to place. I much prefer my chair, but there are some times when it's not practical."
"Like during snowstorms," Michael finished.
"Exactly. So." She paused, throwing him a mischievous glance. "You're the guy from the park."
"I go to the park, yes."
"The hot dog slobberer." And she giggled.
"Oh. You saw that."
"I did. I saw you watching me."
"You're lovely." He who often said too little, could not seem to shut his fucking mouth. Maybe he had a concussion. That had to be it.
She frowned, then smiled.
"For a crip, you mean?"
He scowled, suddenly pissed. "Don't you ever say that to me again!"
Her eyes widened.
"You're the most beautiful woman I've ever seen. It has nothing to do with your wheelchair, and everything to do with you. Your smile is …electric. Your laugh..it gets me right here." He stabbed his finger into his belly
"oh. Um. Well…"
She was suddenly flustered. She put her attention on parking her car in the emergency parking lot. Before she could get fully out of the car, he had come around and taken out her wheelchair, then helped her into it. She'd been independent for too long, perhaps, as his help annoyed her just a bit. Wisely, she held her tongue and didn't protest as he wheeled her slowly towards the emergency room.
"I need to push you so that I don't fall down."
Clever man, she thought to herself.
Good one, he congratulated himself.
Later, after three stitches, she drove him home.
"Sure you're okay to be alone? You could spend the night in my spare room."
"nope, 'sfine." His voice was slurry with the painkiller they'd made him take. He wanted nothing so much as to lay down and sleep for a year or two.
"Tank you," he mumbled, getting out of the car, shuffling to his door. It was only after she had driven off that he realized that he didn't know her last name, her phone number or her address.
Well fuck.
"So, did you have a good time, darling?" Her mother was sounding her out after her somewhat late night. Together they moved around the kitchen, sliding pans into the oven, whipping frosting, pounding dough. As a team, they worked well together. The bakery had saved them both, really. After her fathers sudden passing last year, her mother had been a lost spirit. Then her own tragedy occurred, and a fresh start seemed the best for them both. Her boyfriend had died in the car accident that had left her partially paralyzed. All they had left was one another.
Shae remembered her mom twirling in the living room, then poking her finger on the map, landing them here. In the months since the bakery opened, and their respective apartments finished, life had become a bit sunnier. She knew her mom had more than a passing interest in the fellow who delivered their flour every three days. And she herself had found that there was a vibrant and active D/s scene locally.
"I did. That poor guy from the park…remember the ketchup guy?" She giggled as her mom mimed the drip, drip, drip of ketchup out of a mesmerized persons hands.
"He was there last night, and tripped over his own feet, hit his head on a table and wound up with three stitches."
"Oh my! I wonder if it was because he was oogling my beautiful girl?"
"Mom! Geeze."
"Wouldn't surprise me in the least, you know."
She felt herself blushing. The front door bell jingled, saving her from replying.
"I'll go…"
"No, Shae, you finish up those cupcakes. You have such a hand at them!" Her mother bustled out of the kitchen, smoothing her silver tresses as she slipped off her hair net.
"May I- Oh hello there! How were those cupcakes…and oh my…"
Things clicked together quickly for Shae's momma. The large bandage on the man's forehead. The cupcakes. And Shae.
"Excuse me for a moment, will you?"
She darted back into the kitchen before he could stop her.
"Shea. Perhaps you could get this after all….I need to pee," her mom whispered, dashing towards the bathroom.
"Geeze, mom…" Frowning, Shae set down her pastry bag and wheeled out to the storefront.
"Hi…can I…oh…"
He blinked in shock. It was his girl! His face broke into a smile, then a fast wince as the smile tugged at his stitches.
"Try not to move too much…I really don't want you to hurt yourself before I get out from behind here!" She laughed.
"Oh, you want me to hurt myself right in front of you?" He smiled, winced again.
"Hungry. And…I had no idea this was your place. I've been past here dozens of times…"
"Mom usually handles the store…speaking of…" she turned towards the swinging doors, not surprised to see her mother's feet at the edge of the doorway.
"Mom. It's okay, you can come out and meet him."
He swallowed hard. To meet the mom of the girl he really wanted to spank…and fuck…seemed a bit perilous under the circumstances. The woman tied his tongue in knots. When what he really wanted was to tie her in them.
March 3, 2013 April 11, 2013 / vanillamom	/ 15 Comments
The dungeon was crowded. That was his reasoning for bumping into two ponygirls, another Dom, and a slave boi. Well, that, and carrying three boxes full of cupcakes.
The music thumped with a heavy back beat that he felt in his balls, and the dancing, swirling, chattering mob-scene spoke volumes about people finally out and about after being cooped up for the winter. The last two munches and play dates had been cancelled after snow made roads impassable.
He doubted he'd ever seen so many at one event before. Oh shit. He ducked behind a pillar as Samantha cruised past. She hunted him with a passion that was enviable. Or would be, if he'd been at all interested in her. She was far too aggressive for a purported submissive, and he suspected a heavy amount of 'switch' floated in her blood. He might be a klutz, but he didn't have an iota of switch in him. He knew how and what he wanted, and like most Doms, wanted it his way. He could be clear and concise with a sub. He didn't expect a lot of arguing, either. Samantha was a ditherer, an arguer and way more high maintenance that he wanted.
He'd explained it in gentle terms. He'd explained it in bald terms. Yet still she stalked him. He sighed. The evening would be a lot more difficult if he had to spend it escaping from her. He wondered if Dan was here; he didn't mind Sam and her forward ways.
He successfully navigated the last few feet to the food table, passing off his boxes of treats. He turned away, then turned back.
"You know what? I think I'll have one of those before the crowd sees them and devours them."
"Yes Sir." Eyes lowered as she had been taught, slave rissa handed him one of the cupcakes, and a napkin. He smiled at her, called her a good girl. Her dimples appeared.
"You've got the cutest dimples, rissa."
She blushed, he laughed. David was a lucky man to have such a sweet sub. Then again, he'd been through hell and back before he and rissa had met.
"um…sir?"
"rissa?"
"you…have…um…on your cheek…"
He touched his cheek, found a wad of frosting. How the hell had he managed that? A hand touched his lower back, as a body wrapped around him sinuously.
"I'd be happy to lick that off for you, Michael."
He sighed inwardly.
"Thanks but…no. Samantha, we've talked about this before."
And suddenly his friend Dan was striding toward them. In seconds, his hand lashed out, grabbing a fistful of hair, jerking the wanton slut off of him.
"Are you asking to be thrown out?" He shook her head and she whimpered.
"N-no…OW.."
He shook her again by the handful of hair.
"No Sir!"
"Sir Michael has told you, and I have told you…stop. This will be your last warning. Capiche?"
Tears welled in her eyes, yet a quiet rage brewed there too. Michael saw it, Dan felt it.
"Cool down and settle yourself. Volunteer to be a floor slut. But steer clear of this guy–or you're out."
He released her hair, and she scurried away, losing herself in the crowd.
"What a dumb cunt."
"She is persistent."
"Why are you so nice about it? It's pure bullshit! She's been stalking on you for months."
"I've wondered about that. Maybe if I just played with her she'd go away, you know?"
"I wouldn't. You don't really want to get tangled up with a sub that unstable. If she is a sub. She seems way too controlling, to my way of thinking."
He nodded. His friend had a point.
"Some new blood in here tonight. Go mingle. And Mike?"
Michael paused, looking at Dan.
"Don't fall on anyone."
Dan punched his shoulder, laughing.
"Funny, you bastard. Very amusing."
Turning back to the bar, he tripped over his feet, stumbled a few steps, then righted himself. He didn't even turn around to look at Dan…whos guffaws followed him half-way to the bar.
Her laugh trilled out. This was her first munch & play party since moving here. It had taken seven months to get her business started, to renovate the upstairs and downstairs apartments in the building she'd bought.
She'd missed the community. Kinky people were so fun! There was an honesty and acceptance here that she'd found nowhere else. Tall people, short people, people with strange hair styles and wild tattoos. No matter your size, your shape, your sexual orientation, you were welcomed. She'd moved half-way across the states, as far away from her old home as possible. She wanted no reminders of what she'd lost. Choosing to move forward, rather than looking back, had always been her motto. She'd lost a lover, a child, a parent and survived all. Life was short and she planned to make the most of every last second she had on this plane of existence.
It was her personal motto: Live fully.
Her new friend handed her a glass with an umbrella in it.
"To new friends!"
To which she enthusiastically agreed.
He'd paddled a few bottoms, caned a pair of feet, given a demonstration of breast binding, only pinching his own fingers once. He crossed the room, heading for those fucking cupcakes. He hoped there was one left.
He heard the laugh.
Her laugh.
It rang down his spine with bell-like clarity, twanging deeply in his balls and tightening his cock for the first time all evening.
She was here.
He turned quickly, taking a step forward. His eyes scanned the dimly lit room, looking for her. Was she in her wheelchair? He didn't see her, and turned another quarter-turn, feeling a desperate need to find her.
A gaudily dressed boi twined around him, through the tight press of people. He shrugged past him, but tripped over the leash trailing from the boi's waist. Unable to stop his forward momentum, he felt himself hurtling forward.
She was caught up in conversation when someone came crashing to the floor virtually at her feet. Before she could rise from her chair, he was up, shaking himself like a wet dog.
"I'm okay," he said, even before he was fully sitting up.
"Sir Michael, you always make such an entrance!" The crowd around him giggled, as one sub spoke up.
Leaning forward, Shae patted his shoulder.
"Pardon me, but I think you're bleeding," she said.
His hand lifted to his temple.
"No, I think I'm just dying of embarrassment." But his hand came away smeared with blood.
He looked up and froze.
There she was.
"UnderDom"
March 2, 2013 February 27, 2013 / vanillamom	/ 17 Comments
He crawled out from under his computer desk after attaching the keyboard to the cpu unit. Once again he'd forgotten, stretched out, catching his toe in the wires below, and tugged the cable out. He sighed, dismayed at yet another klutzy episode. Earlier today his hot dog had leaked ketchup down the front of his white shirt, his red tie, and the right inner thigh of his pants. So much for eating in the park.
It was all that woman's fault, of course. She'd rolled past him in her wheelchair, her head turned away. She'd been laughing at the antics of a large dog running and leaping at a frisbee thrown by a few college kids. Her laugh mesmerized him, jolted him. He had paused, his loaded hotdog forgotten halfway to his mouth as she moved past, not even noticing him. He hadn't seen the sudden bleeding of the ketchup out the back of the wrapper, so caught up was he in the way the sunlight danced over her tresses, the tightness of the tee-shirt over her breasts. She was stacked. And her laugh was like pure sex.
For weeks she had held his attention. He would watch for her in the park each lunchtime. When the snow had piled up, he'd wondered if she was cooped up somewhere, unable to go out.
Her hair was dark with a bit of a wave to it, and her eyes were brilliant, sparkling blue. Her laugh…it sent an electric current right to his crotch.
Embarrassing to be so turned on by a laugh at his age. And perhaps if he hadn't been picturing her stretched across his lap as he'd watched the spanking scene from his favorite porn site, hadn't shifted, stretching out his long legs, he'd not have disconnected his keyboard. Again.
Saturday dawned full of promise. The storm that had threatened to bludgeon the area had gone far south, leaving the sky cloudless and blue. He decided to walk, doing his errands on foot to enjoy the warmth of the day. Shoving his dirty clothing into a backpack he set off for the laundromat. From there he went to the office supply store to purchase an extension cord for his keyboard. No more disconnects while fantasizing about pulling that girl onto his lap and stroking his hands over her bottom.
He wondered, standing there holding the cord in the middle of the store, if she was paralyzed. Would she even feel a spanking? Would she feel sex? Like sex? Want sex? Want him?
"May I help you sir?" The kid looked like he was twelve, standing there, looking at him like he was some middle-aged dork. Well, he was a middle-aged dork. Tallish, hair thinning a bit on top, and carrying a few…okay a bit more than a "few"…pounds, he figured he was the dictionary pictoral on what a dork looked like. Too much time in front of the computer, not enough time playing football, not these days.
"No…I'm good. Thanks." Time to focus on the now. He filed away the erotic thoughts of the girl he sometimes thought of as "his" for later, when he was watching that video on his computer. He made his way, slightly pink cheeked, to the front register. He only knocked over one small display of pens, to his credit. He really was a dork, sadly. He shook his head as he escaped from the store, then made his way to the bank. There he managed to accidentally tug one of those chain pens off the table it had been adhered to, dropped the change the teller handed him, and bonked his elbow on the stupid shelf that ran around the front of the teller windows. Thankfully, Claire had known him for years, and merely wished him a safe day, while trying hard to not laugh at him.
He tripped on the metal strip at the edge of the door of the market, dropped the package of provolone from the deli, and discovered his pen had sprung a leak – in his pocket – at the front register. He briefly considered going home and pulling the covers over his head.
Halfway down the block he remembered that he was supposed to bring something to the play party tonight. Unlike those doms of fantasy stuff, his klutz gene did not seem to disappear during play time. He just seemed to not be bothered by it as much then. His inner Dom was a lot more confident than his geeky day-to-day self, he supposed, dabbing at the ink stain on his shirt with a napkin he'd found in his jacket pocket. His alter ego could be "under-Dom" – kind of like Underdog, with a D/s twist.
He headed into the new bake shop, deciding to pick up some cupcakes. Sure it as a BD/sm event…but even sadists liked cupcakes! There were some in the window that caught his eye, half white-half chocolate, neatly swirled together. That sure described his life, and likely the life of many of the folks who came out in the darkness to play dirty games with one another.
The bell over the door tinkled, and he realized that although the shop had been here at least 6 months, he had not ever stopped in before. A pleasant woman with neatly feathered white hair came through a door behind the counter. Heavenly scents followed her, circling around his head.
"Wow!" He said, tilting his head back and inhaling deeply. "Whatever that is, it smells…fantastic."
"Our famous cinnamon swirl bread. Just about done, too. Welcome to Heavenly Eats. Your first time?"
"Great name! I was just thinking that the scent from your kitchens were divine! Yes, my first time here…and I guarantee it won't be my last! I'm here to get some cupcakes for a …" he stopped himself in time. "…gathering tonight. I saw the vanilla chocolate ones…they looked perfect!"
"Oh, our Swirled Choco-nilla's are very popular," she said. "Here." She offered him one. He hesitated…"this will, if you pardon the pun, eat into your profit margin…"
She threw back her head and laughed. It was a wonderful laugh.
"Oh my, if it hooks you into coming back? We'll write it off as advertising expense." Still hooting with laughter, she began assembling a box.
"mfmmmmmohmmm" He stopped trying to talk, intent on catching the crumbs. A giant gob of icing fell, but he caught it, for once, and gobbled it down.
"That was the best cupcake I've ever had. I'll take 3 dozen."
She smiled as she began to box up the treats.
"See? Definitely worth the sacrifice. I don't think I've ever seen a man enjoy one of our cupcakes so much."
Stoked on sugar, he carefully took his purchases home, glancing over towards the park. Nope. She wasn't there. He wasn't certain what her schedule would be with spring coming on. With a sigh, he continued home.
sexual overdrive (8)
October 19, 2012 October 19, 2012 / vanillamom	/ 13 Comments
The taste of him lingered in her mouth.
The silken feel of his warm flesh, had contrasted with the solidity of the shaft that slipped between her lips. Although she might have wanted to go slower, wanted to learn his shape and textures, He'd had other ideas.
Her lips had encircled the head of his cock, as her tongue lapped the smoothness, probed the pee slit. He'd groaned when she'd done that, making her smile. His hand dropped onto the back of her head, his fingers coiling in her hair, as he began to push with firm insistence. She wanted to protest. Opened her mouth to protest.
And found herself with a throat full of cock. He'd shoved her down on his rigid shaft, gagging her. He'd "mmmmmm"ed in pleasure as she tried to take breath, tried to not vomit on the intruder lodged within. The pressure on her head eased and she'd slid back, until she could swallow.
Egads. She'd never given a blow job quite like this before, she'd thought, as he pressed her back down, forcing her once more down, down until the curling hairs of his groin tickled her nose.
"Suck hard as you come back up." His voice broke the silence, and she obeyed, to his soft moan of pleasure. "Hell yes. Just like that…"
She caught a rhythm, after a few strokes. Down, relaxing her throat to take him all the way back, then pulling up with pressure. Her lips tightened, her tongue dragged, and she sucked his shaft as she rose. She felt the pulse of him, the sudden thickening.
"Your hand. Wrap it around the base."
There was an urgency in his voice now, a tone she liked. She was pleasing him!
She lowered again, then drew on him like he was a straw, and she was dying of thirst.
A gasp burst from him, and she felt the soft ooze of liquid in her mouth. Not the spurting jets she was more familiar with, but a bubbling release of cum that tasted of his deepest essence. The taste of a man was unique…the salty tang of him settled against her tongue, and was swallowed down into her belly.
He slumped in his chair, panting, his hand resting on the back of her head. She released his cock, and lay, cheek against his thigh, as his shaft softened, and shrank. She watched the process, fascinated. There was one dew-drop of cum on the tip, and she gently touched it with her tongue, cleaning him.
His fist drew in her tresses, turning her face up to him.
"What a good cock-sucker you are, slut." He smiled down at her, gently moving a tendril of hair from her cheek and tucking it behind her ear. She felt soft, liquid and relaxed. Like she belonged exactly where she was.
"I want you to stay. Here with me tonight." His words echoed her emotions.
It was past the beginning. But it was definitely not "the end" either.
*** fini***
She sprawled on the bed as if she was boneless. Truth to tell, she felt boneless.
She also felt…fabulous.
Her ass throbbed where His strong teeth had bitten into her flesh, her pussy and clit throbbed with a deep, primal, need. She understood the words of all those sexy stories she had read over the years.
She yearned for him.
What a funny, archaic term. Romantic and foolish. Yearning for someone? Never would she have thought herself capable. Yet, here she lay, giddy, and longing for a man she barely knew.
"Mel-o-dy…." His voice, soft and mellifluous brought her back to the present. To His presence.
"yes, Sir?" Her voice was a thin whisper of sound. She pressed herself upward on her elbows, looking at him. His eyes, deep and fathomless, glowed at her. She should have been embarrassed, with him looking up across her body, staring at her cunt, her round belly, her floppy tits.
"Why don't you embarrass me? I'm just …."
"On sexual overdrive? That's what I see. I see a weeping pussy, the flutters of your body telling me what your words do not. That you are hot and horny, and, even more important to me, that you don't fear pain. That your body is excited by even the small taste I've given you."
His finger teased up her thigh, rubbing against a plump and swollen lower pussy lip. She stared at his hand, as he moved deeper into her cleft, until her head fell back, her eyelids drooped, and all she could see was the red haze of lust erupting within.
She squealed as he tugged her forward, off the bed.
"Move with me, Melody," he chanted in a sing-song rhyme of lust. Her legs passed over his shoulders, as he supported her hips.
"I hold you, you hold me."
"Wha-a-a..?" She began…
"Your feet will hit the floor, and my chair will tip back, far back. Your feet will be the support of both of us, my little slut, while I eat your sopping cunt."
The dirty words, mixed with the practical. She trembled at the force of them, the reactions that they excited within her. She could see it, in her head. Her feet on the floor, him tilted back in his chair….and in moments, he had maneuvered them into position. He set the brakes and, wrapping his arms around her hips, dug his fingers into her soft bottom as his mouth went to work on her pussy.
His tongue lapped the outer folds of her flesh, long, slow, sensual laps up and over each puffy lip, then driving deeper, licking into the cleft between. The tip of the questing tongue swirled around her clitoris, making her arch and try to press that needy spot against his mouth. She felt the laugh as a warm vibration.
"needy, greedy slut!"
His words were muffled, and tickled her. She'd never had anyone talk to her through her pussy before. It felt strange. And sensual. He continued to torture her, avoiding her clit.
The words rumbled up her cunt, barely registering in her overheated brain.
"mmmmmmmmmm" she responded, wordless, guttural.
She felt the sharp pinch on her ass.
"OW!" she responded.
He was silent.
"Yes! Yes! More, please Sir? Please? Pretty please?"
He smiled at the desperate tone in her voice.
"You're kind of a bastard, you know that?"
Whoa. Was that her? How had that slipped out? She could barely move, suspended on her back against his thighs, her feet planted on the ground, his head buried deep in her snatch. His deep laugh echoed up her pussyhole, through her belly, making her smile, despite the increasingly desperate need growing between her thighs.
His lips settled over her clit, and he began to suck. Much as he had while kissing her earlier, he sucked hard and deeply, until the pleasure was slashed with pain. It hurt. It felt fantastic. No…it hurt.
An orgasm began to build, faster than the tides in a hurricane. She stiffened, her body going rigid as it ripped through her. She felt like she'd drawn up into a tight bow, and then as an arrow was set free, flying through the cosmos.
She was half-unaware as he gently, slowly, righted his chair, her feet hanging limply over his shoulders. He moved her left leg, ducking under her knee, and turning her sideways on his lap, cradling her like one holds an infant.
It was the pinching that roused her. Her nipples were suddenly under attack, sharp pinpoints of pain.
"ow..ow! Ow!"
He looked down at her, as her eyes flew open.
"There she is. Off, slut." He pushed her off his lap, guiding her to the floor between his legs. She looked up at him, a faint frown between her eyes.
"I have tasted you, and found you, frankly, delicious." She blushed at his look. His cheeks were still wet …from her pussy, she realized. She felt the heat in her face grow deeper.
"Now it's time for you to taste me."
Her eyes widened, just a bit. He scooted forward in the wheelchair, then leaned back. She sat, looking at him.
"That wasn't a request, you know." Their eyes met. Held.
"I…" her eyes fell.
"Total communication, slut. Do not forget that is our cardinal rule."
"I don't know what to do. If …" she gestured at his legs.
"if?"
"If…how…"
"Are you asking if my cock works? Because I can assure you that he does. When you were squirming on my face, he was straining against my zipper; oh yes, slut. My cock works very well."
Face flaming, she nodded, then a soft "Yes Sir," as she remembered he preferred to hear her words. Reaching up, she unbuckled his belt, then lowered the zipper on his fly. Feeling the bulge growing under her fingers she realized that his cock worked very well, indeed.
She paused for a moment before she rang the bell. Her butterflies were having babies at an amazing rate, all tumbling through her belly. Her finger was trembling as she reached up to push the buzzer. Laying her hand on her nervous tummy, she stepped back and tried to remember to breathe.
Oh, right. In. Out. Quiver.
The door opened and there he was, as striking as he had been a few days ago. The black tee-shirt fit his heavily muscled arms and torso beautifully. For a moment her mouth went dry as she remembered those long-fingered hands on her head, her chin, at the park. Those damned butterflies slid lower, and began beating inside her pussy.
"Good evening, Melody. Do come in."
There it was again, that hint of Dom. Where she might have said "please come in," he made it a very subtle order. She bit her lip and stepped through the door as he rolled his chair back a bit. She still had to brush past his legs as she entered, her skirt catching on his knee. She was immediately flustered, moving to pull the clingy fabric from his gray sweatpants, but his hand circled her wrist.
"Did that make you feel…uncomfortable? Having to push past me?"
She bit her lip.
"um…a bit, yes."
"Good girl. This is the beginning of …something. Where it takes us is of no matter just now. We'll deal with each issue as it arises. But I expect honesty from you. You need to understand how I work, how I move, and how I need some things to be. There is flexibility here, but you must always be honest with me. The chair is not a chair, my dear, but a part of who I am. These wheels," and he released her hand to grasp the oversized, slightly canted wheels, "are my legs." Quickly he rolled back, giving her room to move, to breathe. In a moment, he spun quickly around, then wheeled right up to her, stopping shy of knocking her over. His legs straddled hers, as they faced one another. "You will make friends with my legs, until you won't think of them as a chair, but merely an extension of your Dom. But be aware…I am going to be strict with you about this one incredibly important rule…we must communicate openly. If you don't understand something, ask. If you don't, this won't work, and I don't mean just the chair and us, but the relationship. D/s is all about good and open communication. You must never hold back because you worry you will offend me. Understood?"
She looked at him, feeling the intensity of his gaze boring up into her eyes. She felt the heat of his thighs against her legs, and the grasp of his hand holding hers once more.
"I do. I do understand you…Sir."
"Good. The only stupid question is the unasked one. Which isn't to say that if I am doing something to you in playtime that I will necessarily answer then…some things need to be experienced, after all."
His smile was magnetic. She was mesmerized, amazed that already she had fallen under his spell. He tugged her hand and she fell forward. He shifted them and she was suddenly sitting on his lap. Holding her eyes, his hand moved up to tangle in her hair, circling the back of her neck as he drew her forward to meet his mouth.
The kiss was gentle, for a moment.
The fireworks exploded as his tongue traced the outline of her lips, searching for entry. There followed a torrid exploration of their mouths; after several long minutes, they broke apart. She was panting, her heart racing.
"Are you wet?"
The candor of the man! She blushed deeply. No one she had ever dated has asked her this. Sex was the end of a good date, something explored and quietly secretive. There was no graphic talking other than the occasional "fuck me baby, oh hell ya, just like that…" but this…this showed that she had indeed crossed into another world.
"I'm not used to this…" she mumbled, looking down at her lap. She felt the incredible burn of her cheeks, then his finger lifted her chin. Her eyes flicked to his, then away.
"Melody."
She looked up at him. They sat, eyes locked. There was a hint of …something…a firmness, perhaps to his look, now. Her lips felt full and bruised. Her nipples rose suddenly, pressing against the lace of her bra, and her pussy felt as hot as her cheeks.
"Yes…..Sir?"
Swallowing down the rush of embarrassment, she tried to nod, but his finger held her chin. He'd enunciated each word slowly and carefully. It was a question that demanded an answer.
"Say it."
There was the steel again. Her voice was whisper quiet as she murmured "yes".
"Yes," this time a bit louder.
"Melody, is your cunt wet?"
Her eyelids dropped shut. She was mortified. She felt the rush of spit in her mouth, and wet in her pussy. His fingers curled around her chin, shaking her head a bit, and she felt his hand around her breast. His fingers caressed the swollen nipple, then pinched, hard.
"OH! Ow! Yes, Yes!"
"Yes? Is that all?"
"Yes, Sir, my …." she hesitated. She could read the fucking word…but say it? "cunt. My cunt, Sir."
"What about your cunt?" He pinched her nipple again, then rolled it back and forth between those long, strong fingers. She whimpered.
"It-it's-it's wet. Wet Sir. Wet…ooohh…wet….cunt….Sir."
"There now, that wasn't so terrible to say was it? You have a wet cunt. Let's go see about some refreshments now, shall we?" He moved her off his lap and led the way deeper into his house. For a moment, she stood there, burning. Her pussy throbbed, her nipple too. Her cheeks were deeply flushed. She was so turned on she could barely remember her name, and now he wanted refreshments? Clearly she had a lot to learn about doms.