“You, sweetheart, are my bitch now.”
“Like fuck I am!”
“Are you hard?” I let a little syrup drip into my voice as I pose this question.
Another moment of silence from you…
“No.” Your voice is full of sulk and I shift until I’m sitting on the back of your thighs and reach beneath your hip, in order to curl my hand around your cock.
It is hard. You know it. I know it. The little squeeze I deliver to your erection only brings more blood flooding into the shaft, making it pulse.
“All those promises,” I whisper as I stroke. “All those empty tokens of your desire for me. I remember them all. Every single one of them made me want you, made me wet, made me ache.”
“Come on, baby.” You count on that all-consuming word as if it will do for an apology. As if any apology would do for all the times you’ve left me hungry and desperately longing to be touched. For all the times the desire turned to salt on my skin. For every time I had to pleasure myself instead of feeling your cock penetrating me.
“Busy. Yes, I know.”
You can’t help yourself. Your hips are autonomous and traitorous. Regardless of the fact that you hate the loss of freedom, the lack of control, they pump, pushing your throbbing cock through my fist, seeking relief.
“Busy, busy, busy,” I repeat in a sing-song voice as I pull the small tube of lube from the nightstand drawer and snap the lid open.
If you don’t recognize the sounds of that snap, you’ll certainly recognize the cold, thick gel that I drip liberally between your ass cheeks.
“What are you doing?”
“You know what I’m doing.”
“Yes, my love.” Having emptied the entire contents of the tube into the crevice between your ass cheeks, I slide my fingers into every ridge of your rose bud and begin to massage it slowly with distinct intention. You are still rigid as a rock in my fist as I continue to reach up for your prostate to stimulate you further, giving you what we both know is divine pleasure!
The sigh you heave is spiked with subordination. “You know I’ve never been interested in this. It doesn’t turn me on. I’ve never wanted…”
“And I’ve never wanted to fuck a Magic Wand because I couldn’t have you.” At this point, it’s a bit hard for me to maintain the cold cadence in my voice; I, instead, concentrate on opening up slick ass even more little by little, pushing another finger inside.
“Why the fuck…” you grunt as I penetrate you with my fingers. “Why the fuck didn’t you say something? You could have…oh…”
“What? I could have thrown myself at you? Begged? Pleaded? Dressed up in slutty lingerie to tempt you?”
“Well…yes. Or… just told me.”
I sense that your ego has been wounded enough, and I know that you’ve now gotten the message that I set out to convey. (Don’t fuck with me because I will fuck back, literally.)
“No! I couldn’t. I wouldn’t. I’m not made that way. I’m worth far more than that. I don’t have it in me to lie prostrate at your feet and beg for your attention. Nor should I have to.”
I’m slowly beginning to show you the sweet, nurturing woman you love. I finally push the strap-on that’s been on the bed next to us, to the side and begin to kiss your neck. You look down at the instrument that was initially intended for punishment as a curious and eager glow lights up your face.
“So…you’re going to get me back for teasing you huh?” you mutter weakly, but your attempt at sarcasm rings hollow. You have no clue that I’m hip to your newfound curiosity.
“Well,” I whisper, releasing your cock – still throbbing, still outrageously hard, staining the sheets with your pre-cum. “I want you to know that I keep my promises, Ashlee.”
“Oh you do, huh?”
I grab the bulbous head of the strap-on and I quickly pull it up over my hips. I straddle you, and I slide it between your slippery ass cheeks. I position it to hold it steady. Then, just as I hear you gasp, I push it into you desirous ass.
I’m not rough, but I won’t deny you of what I now know you secretly want either. You squirm beneath me, but I don’t stop. Slowly, inexorably, I inch the cock into your ass until the depth of it has stilled you, leaving you panting with your fists balled up and your muscles stiffened.
Pretending I’m unaware that you’re not loving every minute of this, I quip, “I told you that I was going to make you my bitch.” Fully established in your ass now, I wiggle my hand beneath your hips again and firmly grasp onto your cock. It has gained even more circumference and it only takes a few thrusts before you let out your first moan.
“This is how I fuck you.” I then thrust in and out, over and over, still squeezing your cock through my fist until, regardless of how much you didn’t want me to take control, regardless of how much you have never wanted to be penetrated, you shudder and buck and cry out like a bitch in heat.
The hot spurts of your cum drench your skin and mine too. I lie still, on top of you, inside of you, so that you know what it feels like to be sated and owned at the same time.
Then, gently, I withdraw – the way you always do, no matter how rough or unbridled the sex has been – and lie down beside you, my body pressed to yours, my arm around your waist.
After a long, long silence, you turn your head and say “You realize that I’m going to get even for this?”
I don’t laugh, but I can’t suppress a sly grin. “I know.”
“So, what do you figure you’ve accomplished here, Mistress Ashlee?”
I prop myself up on one elbow, feeling sweaty and gratified. “I figure that the next time you come to bed after promising to fuck me, you’ll keep your promise. Because you can never tell how you’ll wake up in the morning, otherwise.”