A comment was made, spawning this short story. I didn’t plan on posting because I have a regular short tomorrow, but couldn’t quite help myself.
“Bend over.”The words flew from my lips like a shotgun blast, startling me with the force.
Just speaking them opened something dormant inside of me. It unfurled, lodging in my core and blossoming out to heat every cell until I was shaking with arousal and power.
He seemed ready to hear and heed my words even if I only just realized I’d been ready to say them. While I struggled with this new feeling of strength, he bent at the waist, pulling the red rope taut across his golden skin. My musings stopped then, and if it were possible I grew more aroused.
The calm submission in his pose, the way his round bottom jutted out as an offering, the way his hard cock peeked from between his toned thighs called to me. I tightened my grip on the crop, setting my feet into position unconsciously as I admired his easy acceptance of our role reversal. His trust in me both exciting and frightening me.
“What’s your safe word?” My hand played along his torso, tracing the tattoo on his flank before dipping between his cheeks.
It almost seemed wrong to mark a body this beautiful, but there was no denying my desire to do so. My marks turning his skin a fiery red shade, my instrument drawing groans of pleasure-pain from his lips, my hands controlling him. I wanted him to wear my brand of torture.
“Red,” he replied in a voice husky with need and something else that fired my blood. We were together in our need to dominate and be dominated.
I tapped the crop lightly against his thigh before I lifted it away, my other hand a steadying force on his back. As I held it aloft, leaving us both in terrible limbo, my mind absorbed the minute things. The shuddery breath he drew in, the slight quiver that I felt along his strong body, the way I seemed to vibrate in return, and the throbbing slippery ache that settled between my thighs.
The crop made the most satisfying thud when it connected with his bottom, leaving a stripe of pink in its wake. We both gasped as the blow landed and resonated through us both. I felt so slick, aroused, and trembly.
“Again. Please.” There was no command in his voice, only a plea that brought more of that woman inside me to the surface.
My fingers trailed down his back and into his hair. A yank brought his head up, and I looked deep into his liquid brown eyes. No arrogance, no smug look shimmered in those depths. I fought to control the cruel streak that his obvious submission threatened to manifest in me. It was about his pleasure as much as my own.
“Doesn’t my pet know not to tell me what to do?” I pushed his head back down and rained a series of punishing blows on his butt and thighs. Thorough and relentless. “Who’s in charge here?”
“You, Mistress,” he moaned, his hips shifting with each blow.
“Correct answer.” I dropped the crop and delivered smacks with my bare hand until it stung painfully and I was shaking with the effort. Shaking with the power of my possession of him.
His bottom matched the color of the rope circling his skin, and my marks showed beautifully. I wanted more than this though in that moment.
Stepping around in front of him, I lifted the short skirt I wore above the line of my hips, baring my naked lips to him. I lifted his chin and stepped in closer. Watching his nostrils flare as they scented me made me smile. “Don’t just stare, Pet, put that mouth to good use.”
As his breath tickled my damp skin, I shuddered. I could come to love the switch.