He tied her hands behind her and told her to stay still. His face slid right underneath her as he wrapped his arms over her thighs. Locking her into place, tongue and lips proceeded to do the rest of the talking.
At first she felt slightly embarrassed at the position. That thought was quickly wiped away as his lips touched her sex, his tongue driving inside her, like a drill burrowing its way into pavement. Relentless in its march, penetrating her so deeply and so thoroughly that she almost climaxed immediately. His lips attacked her clit, with such precision and determination that she felt her body shudder as she writhed against his face.
Any embarrassment she felt was quickly flushed away by the rapidly building orgasm approaching, the pulsating sensation in her clit getting stronger, her moans filling the room, building to a rapid crescendo. His strong arms held her tightly in place as she went over the edge, her climax strong and powerful, her legs trembling from the intense pleasure.
There was no cessation in his strokes, his tongue and lips vigorously tasting her, soaking in her juices, reveling in their mission. Just as one orgasm began to subside, another wave began, and it wasn’t long before she was bucking wildly as best she could, his mouth filled with her sensual taste. Relentless in his quest, his mouth never broke stride, continuing its assault on her sex, filling her with pleasure as she continued to grind against his mouth. After what was a longer period of time than she had ever experienced, his mouth finally slowed, and her exhausted body collapsed into his. Looking at him lustily, her mind cloudy and her eyes glazed with ecstasy. He looked at her, kissing her neck softly, then her lips. “You taste so fucking good.”, his eyes burning into her, his passion for her shining through.
Each time it felt like it was the first time. God, why did it make her react like this. Why did the feeling of rope around her wrists practically make her cum. He could tell too. She couldn’t hide it from him no matter how much she tried. He knew exactly what he was doing to her. How she reacted to his touch. his binding, his smell. She couldn’t ever resist him. He knew her better than she knew herself. How to make her body feel differently than it ever had before. He had done things to her no man had ever done. She trusted him like she had trusted no other and her body and mind were his completely. She felt the rope tighten and her wrists bound together. Oh god, he had made it extra tight tonight. She loved it when he did that. She closed her eyes and let her mind relax. He was in charge now. She had nothing to worry about.
He had my wrists pinned above my head, his lower arms caging my face as he fucked me, crowding me with his primal need, his raw scent, that wild look that signalled a whole night ahead. It was with deliberate, deep thrusts that he tunnelled into my clenching, wet cunt, watching my instinctual reaction each time: back arching, lips open, gasping, my eyes rolling back with the pleasure-spun invasion.
That was it – the moment he lowered his lips to mine and swept his tongue into my pink, needy mouth. It was a kiss of dominance, all-consuming and devouring. A kiss that held my tongue ransom. It seared my nerves with pleasure that spiralled straight down my spine to my swelling clit. And then, as quickly as he intruded, he withdrew to leave me underneath him, wide-eyed and panting and searching for more.
Fuck. I wanted that again. I needed it again. I wordlessly tilted my mouth up, in search for more. Please, please, my mind sang. But he pulled away from my seeking mouth, simultaneously thrusting into me and grinding against my swollen clit.
“Ahh please please pleeease…” I groaned, trying to reach his lips but still held down by my wrists.
“Please, what, little one?” He managed to sound almost-casual, but his eyes gave him away. The sadist was dancing through them.
Fuck. Surely he wasn’t going to make me say it. I couldn’t beg for a kiss. I couldn’t.
“Pleeease, please…” I tried again.
“No. Ask me properly, little slut. Ask me properly for what you want.”
Another penetrating thrust that had me whimpering. And I knew it was ridiculous not to ask. I had previously begged him for such filthy things. Wanton things that made my cheeks blaze in the fresh daylight of the next morning. This was just a kiss. Not as innocent as it sounded when it was instigated by his mouth, but still, a kiss.
Yet there was a part of me that couldn’t bear to hear those words leave my lips. His eyes stormed with arousal as he watched my inner turmoil. Pride over surrender. Need over shame. Longing over humiliation.
But submissiveness always wins in his presence.
“P-please… please, Sir… will you kiss me?”
His crooning delight of “oh, of course, my little slut” and he finally covered my lips with his own.
Mischief's Muse 