I teach second grade. It’s fulfilling work, but exhausting. I spend all day barking orders and trying to cajole seven-year-olds to follow them. When work is done, my bossy-pants come off. I don’t want to make decisions, plans or threats of sending anyone to the headmaster’s office. I don’t want to give orders; I want to take them. I want to relax in the security of someone else’s control. 

My boyfriend’s situation is just the opposite. Theo works as a server at a high-end steakhouse in a tony part of town. It’s good work. It pays so well, in fact, that he has foregone other career opportunities. But he takes orders all day and all evening. When he comes home, he wants to give them. 

That is, most of the time. Some days, life gets to him. I can tell when the day has stolen his verve: he’ll be passive, indecisive. We’ll wind up eating shit for dinner because we can’t decide, and then we’ll watch shit on TV. 

But that’s rare. Usually, he’s Mr. Assertive when he comes home to me. He’ll get off work and send me a text like one of these: 

“Put on your red dress. We’re going out.”

“Make fondue. I want to feed it to you.” 

“Take off your clothes and get out the strawberries and whipped cream. I’ll be home in 10 minutes.”

“It’s movie night. Couch cuddles and La-La Land.” (He has a thing for Emma Stone. Correction: we have a thing for Emma Stone.) 

Or, my favorite: “Get out the lube.” 

When I get a text like that, I know the night will end with a warm sense of satisfaction in my heart and warm trickles of semen on various parts of my body. I get a little shaky just thinking about it. 

Last Friday was a perfect example. Theo got off work earlier than normal. I got a text around 8pm that said, “We’ve got a table at Terilli’s at 9. Picking you up in 30.” 

I had already showered and started to prepare him a warm welcome home. It didn’t take me long to touch up my makeup for a night out, and slip into a form-fitting, strapless, tea-length dress. I twirled for myself in front of the mirror. My light brown hair was done in loose curls that draped over my shoulders. I pulled it back and decided I liked it better that way, showing more of the skin of my slender neck, inviting a little nibbling on my ears. 

My makeup was just right, accentuating my green eyes and plump lips. I reddened them with lipstick. The black dress hugged my flat tummy and drew the eyes to my firm, C-cup breasts. 

My thin legs perched atop four-inch black heels with thick straps around my ankles. I dug in a drawer until I found a matching black choker and wrist cuffs. The choker was an easy choice. I debated the cuffs for a while, but finally decided to wear them. I wanted to give Theo the not-subtle message that I would be his captive tonight, bound to him like a mendicant, or a slave. 

I cinched the cuffs to their smallest setting. Theo teases me about being petite. I get cold easily, and I fail at things that require brute strength. But I know the teasing is only his way of calling attention to my body, which he adores. He wants me small enough to pick up, move around, toss onto the bed, or bend over his knee. 

He dropped by the house to pick me up, already wearing a black suit from work. Theo looks great in suits, which accentuate his broad shoulders and fit waist. He wears his dark hair in loose curls and his square chin with dark stubble. His blue eyes penetrate me more deeply than his — his other qualities — and he shows dimples when he smiles. 

Theo freshened up and escorted me to the car. We arrived at the restaurant right on time. Terilli’s is a dimly-lit Italian place with a great wine selection and live jazz every night. We were seated in a tiny booth in a secluded corner — perfect for canoodling — where a perky, pony-tailed waitress took our drink order and smiled a little too agreeably at Theo. 

We talked about work. He asked about the problem I was having with my headmaster, and my mum’s health, which has been declining. Theo is a great listener. He often makes sure I feel secure and valued before he takes me to bed and treats me like a worthless slut. I can’t decide which treatment I like better. I’m glad he can do both. 

Dinner was scrumptious, punctuated by increasingly overt flirtations from pony-tail girl, and we nearly drained a bottle of good, dry Cabernet. When dessert came, I noticed two things about Theo’s demeanor. 

First, to my great delight, he ignored Pony Tail Bitch as she slid the tiramisu under his nose, her tits squeezing together provocatively. I had noticed him checking her out when we first arrived, looking at her skinny ass as she bopped away from our table. He is a man, after all, with primal instincts and balls that need draining. But now his focus was locked onto me like a tiger stalking its prey. I knew, by the end of the night, he would tear me apart. 

The second thing I noticed was that he was finished with chit-chat. The man is a great conversationalist, but he knows when it’s time to stop talking. 

He forked off a corner of the soft dessert and held it to my lips. I enveloped the sweetness slowly, sucking it off the fork with eyes locked on his. 

“Fuck, you’re a spicy tart,” he whispered. 

In response, I made a dramatic show of licking my lips. 

“You look stunning tonight.” He looked me up and down. 

Pony Tail Bitch showed up just then with the bill, continuing her streak of terrible timing. Without taking his eyes off me, he leaned over, took out his wallet, and threw a card onto the table. While Pony Tail processed the payment, he leaned back, continuing to consume me with his eyes, and crossed his arms across his chest. His biceps stretched the fabric of his suit. Pony Tail finished the process and bopped away forever. I stared at Theo’s arms.

At this point, I was already melting into a puddle of desire for him. I thought about the luscious, meaty snake in his pants, and bit my lip. I wanted it in my hand, in my mouth, in… well, in so many places. I wanted to make him hard, make him cum, make him happy. 

He leaned toward me for a kiss, and I offered him my cheek. I could play coy for a while, but I knew I would give myself over to him very soon and very eagerly. I would happily open my lips, my legs, my ass cheeks to him in the most compromising positions and surrender as he had his way with me. 

He kissed my cheek very softly and then whispered in my ear, “Take out my cock.” 

This was a surprise. Theo had never showed interest in public sex before. But I was so horny, it sounded like a terrific idea. Plus, when Theo gives me a command, I simply can’t deny him. I reached under the table and felt his bulging manhood. I looked around to make sure we wouldn’t be caught, but he never took his eyes off me. With an air of nonchalance, he retrieved his wine glass and swirled it under his nose, under his searing gaze. 

I unzipped him and discovered he had ditched his underwear when he picked me up. His half-hard member flopped out easily, lolling about in his lap like a drunken acrobat — limber and muscular and looking for purpose. 

I felt a softness between my legs, thinking about his languid, predatory strength and how certain he was to take me. I wanted to be ravaged. I wanted him to press my insides with the weight of his muscled manliness. I wanted him to carve out my soul and devour it in front of me, my life force dripping off his jowls, and leave the shell of me to blanch in the sun. 

I stroked him slowly and felt him grow stronger in my hand. My mouth watered. He drank wine. 

Once he drained his glass and leaned over for another peck on the cheek, he zipped up and we left. I tried to walk slowly, sway my hips, look sexy. But I wanted to sprint to the car. My face felt flushed.

On the drive home, he put his hand on my thigh, the very edge of his pinky brushing my pubic mound. I flushed again, trying not to look at his hand but willing it — with some kind of Star Wars force — to move closer, to rub me. He didn’t. We spoke little. 

At home, I tried to hold onto the coquettish flirt, but it was slipping away quickly. So I was glad when Theo took action. He kicked off shoes and socks, threw his jacket over a chair, sat on the couch, spread his knees, put his hands behind his head, and said, “Is that a new dress? Come show it to me.” 

Theo loves me to strip. He likes to be teased with my supple flesh just out of his reach. He toys with his prey. 

I sauntered over between his knees and moved my hips in slow swings, twisting my waist and running my hands over my body. He smiled and the crotch of his pants was tight. 

I turned around and swayed my bottom just above his lap, watching him over my shoulder. Then I sat on him and felt the ridge in his pants, hard as pipe. I stroked myself against it slowly. I felt fluid escaping my panties. 

Theo slid the zipper of my dress down my back slowly. I stood and stripped out of it with all the seductive slowness I could muster. Then I did the same with my bra and panties. It gave me a rush, as it always does, to be nude in front of him, completely exposed. All I wore was the choker, cuffs and heels. I bent over him, one hand on his thigh and the other on his chest, and kissed him, moaning into his mouth. 

“Undress me,” he commanded.

I unbuttoned his shirt and pulled it off his pecs. I suckled his nipples. 

Then I dropped to my knees, unbuckled his belt and slipped it out from around him. I wrapped it around my hands a time or two and then held it across my face and bit into the leather. 

Theo reached out and put one hand on the side of my face. It felt powerful and secure, holding my head just above the bulge in his slacks that was calling to me. 

He said, “I’ve been daydreaming about your blowjobs all day, Laura. Show me what you’ve got.” 

I dropped the belt on the couch and retrieved the meaty plaything from his pants for the second time that night. The drunken acrobat from the restaurant was now a roaring cannon — a scepter of conquest reigning over everything it touched. I’ve never wanted to be colonized so badly. 

He stood so I could strip off his pants the rest of the way, and there we were — in the spot I often have dreams about — him standing solid and erect, towering over me with his scrumptious cock in front of me, and me on my knees, in an attitude of hopeful, lustful prayer, nakedly desiring him, symbolically shackled in leather and lust, ready to give him my full devotion. 

There’s a reason Theo dreams about my blowjobs all day — and all night and often when he should be paying attention to other things. They’re empyrean, sublime, other-worldly. I know this because I have invested long hours in research, reading, watching and practicing, and because every man I have performed for in the past 10 years has told me so, all of them panting, most of them delirious, one of them even weeping. When I worship a man’s cock, I change his life. 

I also go slow. 

I put my hands on his legs and took a long, admiring look at him. Theo has an exquisite phallus — a little larger than average but not so large to make it unmanageable. The tip is slightly pointed — a device of precision and talent, not a blunt instrument. The shaft is decorated with a filigree of thin blue veins, a delicate incongruence on the symbol of his sexual dominance. When it’s hard, it has that not-quite-round shape with a throbbing conduit running up the underside. He keeps himself clean and his pubic hair neatly trimmed.

From my place on my knees, I looked up into his eyes. They were hungry. He seemed to reach for my lips with his whole being. I was glad to feel I wasn’t the only one wanting this. I felt magnetic, captivating. 

I leaned forward, closing the last bit of space between us with pursed, red lips and kissed the tip of his manhood gently. 

His chest expanded as his lungs filled quickly, and I knew I had just set in motion an inevitable, monumental fucking that would leave me sore the next day. 

I kissed him again, then ran my tongue around the tip of him while I looked into his eyes. He exhaled deeply and watched intently.

I slid my cuffed hand up from his thigh and cupped it under his scrotum. I held his balls gently while I teased his dickhead with my tongue. I kept it up for several minutes. Then I started kissing up and down his shaft, and finally, I gave him a long, wet lick, balls to tip, and then licked my lips, smiling at him. 

His body responded like it always does: rigid throbbing cock, fast, shallow breathing, eyes locked on the show. 

I took the base of his cock in my other hand, aiming it at my mouth, and wrapped my full lips around the tip. I sucked it, pulling on his dickhead and teasing the tip with my tongue. He likes this suction on his head and I kept at it for a while, still fondling his balls. 

Then I popped off and stroked him slowly, looking up at him and giving him one last moment of anticipation. He knew what was coming next and I knew he was aching for it.

I swallowed him. 

I opened wide and slid my mouth down onto his solid cock, my red lips sliding past inch after inch of taut, tawny skin. He was finally inside me. 

He threw his head back and moaned his approval. 

I started a long series of rhythmic thrusts, swallowing him again and again. I lifted my chin each time I pulled away from him, rubbing the underside of his rod against my tongue. 

I pumped faster and swallowed him deeper until, relaxing my throat, I covered his entire length and felt his balls against my chin. I put my hands on his ass cheeks and held him there, and let saliva spill over my lips and drip off my chin onto my tits. 

When I pulled back with a gasp, little strings of spit draped between us. 

He put one hand on my head, patting me like an obedient Spaniel. 

I pulled his member out of the way and sucked one of his balls into my mouth, then the other. They were full and pliant — his scrotum not yet contracted in that last tightening gasp before releasing its nectar. 

I went back at his dick, repeating many of the same moves and looking up at him seductively. I was pleased to see him growing more and more shaken, less and less composed. 

After several long minutes, he put both hands on the back of my head and pulled me against himself. I relaxed and let him into my throat. He pumped his hips. The movements of his torso made me even more aroused. My pussy dripped. His balls slapped my chin as he fucked my face with vigor. 

After many strokes, he pulled back to let me breathe. Gasping, I looked up for his approval and he showered it on me. 

“Damn, baby. You’re a blowjob goddess! So fucking hot.” He moved his hips and slapped my cheek with his dick. He often dickslaps me. I love it. “You’re one sexy bitch, you know that?” 

I nodded and put him back in my mouth, but I knew he was ready to fuck me. 

A minute later, he pulled out and flopped back on the couch, his cock like a flagpole pointed at the sky. “Come sit on my lap, you sexy bitch.” 

I mounted him, grabbed his rod and aimed it at my pussy. Then I impaled myself on it, sliding slowly down onto him, filling the space that had felt empty and incomplete ever since he texted me. He felt so good filling me that I grabbed his hair and pulled his face to my chest. 

He moaned between my tits and then suckled me lovingly while I started grinding hard. He filled me up, his big pole going deep. I felt him slide past my cervix, and I rubbed my clit against the hard muscles of his lower abdomen. 

I looked down at him and he was admiring my writhing body. He pressed my tits together and then traced his hand down the curve of my waist. I closed my eyes and bounced on his cock, feeling my tits bob in small circles. And soaking up his attention. 

I was enjoying the sensations so much I didn’t notice he had picked up the belt I left on the couch. 

He grabbed my wrists and pushed them behind my back. With deft movements, he belted them together behind my ass and cinched the belt tight. That thrust my chest forward, and he savaged it, squeezing and pinching and sucking hard. My nipples shot out, getting erect. We had turned another corner, somehow. My machinations had awakened a beast of some kind inside him. I had encountered the beast before. I loved it, but I knew it would gut me. 

He slapped my ass and growled, “Ride me hard.” 

I bounced higher and harder, my tits dancing on my chest and my legs working furiously to give him the rhythm he wanted. He spanked me again and again, each time I came down onto his rod. The tingling mixture of pain and pleasure made the room spin. I squealed and started to form words. “Yes! Oh god yes! Fuck!” 

He kept spanking me and fucking me until my legs started to shake. Then he grabbed me and pulled me toward him, kissing me deeply. Our foreheads together, he panted, “Laura! Laura!” 

I kissed him and kept grinding against him, wanting more and more of the cock inside me. 

Then, showing he still had so much more control of the situation than I had, he licked his finger and slid his hand over my hip and between my ass cheeks. I gasped with the thrilling realization of what he had in mind. He reached my hole and slipped a finger inside. 

That set me aflame like a match to petrol. With his dick in my pussy and his finger in my ass I bucked and shrieked. “Oh, Theo! Yes!” 

He hooked his finger, playing with my pliable hole while I rode his cock. With his other hand, he pinched my nipple. My ass cheeks still stung from the spanking. My nipples stung from the pinching. My hands were bound, powerless to hold him, still tied behind me. My pussy was a quivering mess from his beautiful cock. And my ass was begging for more penetration. The complex sensations overcame me and I rocketed toward a beautiful orgasm. 

Theo is a great lover, and he knows his job isn’t done when I start cumming. He kept fucking and fingering and pinching and slapping and sucking as I thrashed and came and screamed his name. My pussy squeezed around his cock. My ass squeezed his finger. The orgasmic energy shot through me wildly, shaking my legs, stealing my breath, curling my toes encased in those sexy heels. The house shook. The room blurred. The whole world seemed to revolve around the sensual connection between my legs. Wave after wave crashed over me until I seemed to exhale everything in me and liquify in his lap, utterly spent. 

Theo gave me a moment to pant. He ran a hand through my hair and kissed my neck. And then he whispered, “We’re not done.” 

In seconds, I was on the floor, my ass in the air and my face buried in the rug, my hands still bound behind me. I felt Theo mounting me from behind, and I braced for the penetration I knew was coming. His cock, wet from my pussy juices, pressed into my ass, slippery and tight. 

“Ohhhh fuck!!! Theo!” 

He grabbed my narrow waist and thrust his powerful hips, going deeper into me each time. I couldn’t breathe. The ripples of orgasm were still tickling my nerves, and the feel of his cock stretching my asshole was rapturous. 

He rutted and grunted, fucking me like an animal. I squeaked and gasped as he stretched my hole wider, and my own juices ran down my thighs. 

He reached forward and pressed my face into the rug, leaning on me and fucking my ass until he bottomed out, his balls against my pussy lips. 

The threads of the rug tickled my nose. The juices on my leg tickled. And his magnificent cock destroyed my ass, thrusting hard and fast. 

Then I felt him lean back. With one hand, he held the belt that bound my hands, like a horseman holding reins. With the other hand, he slapped my flank, spurring me on like a beast of burden. He was riding me, galloping me, working me into a lather. I wanted to buck and throw back my head and let my mane fall across my naked back, but I couldn’t move. I was pinned and pounded and there was nothing I could do but let him. 

I was entirely open to him, exposed in the most compromising position, vulnerable and unprotected. Tied up and ripped apart. Getting plowed in my ass and dripping juices out of my cunt. I thought it could not get more base or more glorious than this. But just then, Theo reached around me and slid his hand between my thighs. He found my clit and teased it with his finger and then started rubbing it in rhythm with his ass fucking. 

My body responded immediately and helplessly, launching into a stratospheric orgasm. He rode my ass and rubbed my clit mercilessly as I shook and screamed and came harder than before. “Yes! Yes! Yes! Fuck! Theo! Fuck! Theo! Fuck me! Theo! Fuck me! Yes! Oh, fuck me! Yes!” 

I soared through some kind of orgasmic netherworld where air and skin and craving merged into something I breathed, swallowed, and gave birth to. 

And just as I started to open my eyes to the real world, I heard Theo grunting, “Oh fuck, Laura!” And pulling out of me. I felt his warm seed washing across my back and sliding over my naked ass. Finally, we had devoured each other. 

I collapsed on the floor, quivering, my hands still bound behind me. Theo stood over me, panting and dripping fluids off his weakening prick onto my skin. 

He bent and untied me. He took off my heels, but not the cuffs or choker. He picked me up, his chest muscles rippling, and carried my helpless form to bed. I tried to thank him, to offer some assurance that he hadn’t hurt me, hadn’t actually fucked the life out of me. But I couldn’t speak. 

Theo tucked me in tenderly and then slid under the sheets next to me, his arm encircling me, which is where I knew the night would end. I was his prize. Stretched and shredded by his sexual power. Dripping his seed. Warm and wet and used up. 

And happy.