Take me. Take control of me….
After I am naked you lay me down on the huge four-poster. You take a smooth, silky, emerald green scarf and tie my wrists together. Holding my arms above my head, you whisper to me, “Submit.”
“No,” I say defiantly. I am in an uncooperative mood this evening. You kiss me gently on the nose and say, “You’re in no position to deny me anything. You will submit to me–willingly or unwillingly.” “Ha!” I snort. “Make me.”
You grin wickedly. “If you say so, m’dear.” And then your teasing, tickling tongue is at my throat, licking and flicking over the tender, pulsing artery just underneath my skin. Then your teeth, nibbling gently–then a little rougher. I suppress a groan, try to keep my hips still. Your cock is hard, poking aggressively against my thigh as you hold me down and control me.
Your mouth then trails lazily over my collarbones, and then down, eager to capture a dusky nipple between your teeth. Your fingers tickle my ribs through my trembling skin. I giggle a little. You suck my nipples hard between your lips, and this time I cannot quash the sounds of pleasure emanating from my throat. “Victory!” you hiss, forcing open my thighs with an insistent knee, controlling my sex and having your way.
“Not even,” I say through clenched teeth. My hands strain at the silken bonds. My body steels itself against the onslaught of your desire. And still you attack: your tongue now exploring the recesses of my belly button; your hands underneath me, kneading my soft, round bottom. “Submit,” you command again. “I control you slut“.
“No,” I reply, my voice shaking. My resolve is weaker now as your strong, nimble fingers trace lazy figure-eights on my inner thigh. “You are quite the irreverent Little Miss Thang this evening,” you murmur, continuing to stroke my thighs. Your breath is hot against the thick hair of my mons. My core is throbbing, liquid, on the verge of exploding. Tiny colored stars arrange and rearrange into showy constellations in front of my eyes. You continue to stroke and breathe against me. A tiny “please” escapes from my lips before I can bite it back.
“Beg pardon?” you query mischievously, lightly brushing your thumbs across my clitoris. There is laughter and a hint of triumph in your voice. My body quivers in torturous pleasure as you control my sex and my body.
I try to arch my hips towards your touch, but you pull your fingers away. “Say it,” you command me. I open my mouth to utter the phrase, to say the words that will guarantee me explosive ecstasy. But a final swell of rebellion takes control of me and I shake my head. “No,” I say again.
Gently, very gently, your tongue arcs out to flick over my clit. The tiny colored stars condense, implode, and then explode, raining down over all five of my senses. “I submit, I submit,” I moan over and over again, my body bucking against the silk that holds me captive. You grab my hips to hold me still and inflict your exquisite torture again, and again, and again….
