Mmm, shit, baby. I can’t even understand what’s coming out of your mouth anymore. These noises. I can’t even describe them. They’re so wonderful though. They’re just showing me how much you need this. How you need to be pushed. How you need to be challenged. Girls like you don’t want it simple. Girls like you need to be kept on their toes. Kept guessing every day.
That’s where I come in, babygirl. I’m here to push you. To prod you. To see what your limits are. To help you push them. Explore everything. That’s what this is about.
Tonight’s just one night. One night of many of what’s in store for you. You think you’re desperate now? Oh fuck no. This is nothing. We’ve got much more to explore. Much much more.
We were waiting for the train and I was being incessantly pouty because he wouldn’t let me go to the other side of the city to retrieve a pair of boots I keep at the office. They’re super sexy and I wanted to wear them, but we had plans and no time to rearrange our commute. His logic was sound, but being told no still made me feel a wee bit petulant.
He tolerated it for a bit, but then he gave me The Look. You know the look I’m talking about. It’s also called the Careful, Young Lady look, or the You’re Pushing It look. Whenever I’m on the receiving end of it, I get squirmy and immediately feel tiny. I buried my face into his chest. I do that a lot when I’m in trouble or being chastised; I leaned into him as if snuggles were going to save me from a spanking. I mumbled sorry into his shirt and he said, “sorry, what?” I hesitated, not expecting him to prompt me in public, even though the subway platform was mostly empty. “Sorry daddy,” I said. I felt myself starting to throb.
On another day, we were in Zara and I couldn’t decide between two tops. I really wanted them both. I held one up, stared at it longingly, and looked at him. “I can have both?” I asked. I expected either a yes or no, but he said, “How do you ask permission for something?” My eyes widened. The store was busy enough that it would’ve been easy to be overheard. People pushed past us every couple seconds.
“But we’re in public,” I protested.
The look on his face made it very clear that he didn’t care.
“May I have both, please?” I whispered. He didn’t make me call him ‘sir’ or ‘daddy’, but I still felt like I’d been reminded of my place.
I got to have both tops.
When he daddies me in public like that, it’s always a pleasant surprise. It pulls me out of whatever distracted headspace I’m in and anchors me. Goes without saying that it’s hot as hell, too. I’m still getting used to being mindful of my behavior outside of the bedroom. It’s not that I forget I’m his submissive when we’re out and about; I just don’t usually make a conscious effort to behave like his submissive when we’re not behind closed doors.
It’s a good thing, then, that he’s there to remind me of exactly who and what I am.
He’s there to remind me that, no matter where we are, I remain firmly under his thumb.
These noises you’re making. So fucking sexy. I’ve never heard anything quite like this come out of you baby. Something so primal. So natural. So visceral and erotic. I’m gonna keep my cock right here. Until you can stop quivering. Until you stop moaning. Until that ass of yours stops vibrating on my cock. For as long as it takes.
Then when you finally control yourself, I’m gonna pull back my cock real slow. Real fucking slow, little girl. And then I’m gonna push it forward again so fucking hard, you’ll have the breath knocked right out of you. You’re gonna keep going till you make me cum, little girl. Till you make me explode so fucking hard inside you that you’ll be leaking me for hours. You just keep making those noises. Just making me want it more. So much more.
Mischief's Muse 