I shifted slightly, and the man sitting opposite me looked on hungrily as my legs were momentarily exposed. Looking quickly away, I wrapped my sensible camel coat around me as the bus lumbered on.
What the hell was I doing?
- - - - - -
Two weeks earlier, having spent yet another dull meeting in an unsatisfying daydream, I opened up a private browser and logged onto a website for the first time. A website very different from the apps where the nice, respectful boys my age that I usually date swipe right on me. Kind, good looking boys who can’t find my clit. Boys who wait until the last possible moment before throwing me on a dining room table, and who always ask permission first.
His picture didn’t include his face - it was merely a pair of strong, masculine hands in black and white, resting on a table. A little cliche, but I couldn’t blame him; this wasn’t a website for faces. My picture was black and white, too, and showed nothing but my neck and collarbone. Exposed and waiting.
We met for the first time at a coffee shop. ‘Henry,’ he said as he leant toward me, smiling. I assumed it wasn’t his real name; ‘Lily’ certainly wasn’t mine. He was about ten years older than me, good looking, with a clean dark beard and tan skin. He looked like a friend’s husband you wished you had caught for yourself.
His easy, almost professional manner made it possible to sit opposite a stranger and talk about things I wouldn’t discuss with my closest friends. To all the world, we looked like another two Londoners sitting opposite one another drinking overpriced lattes and discussing the banalities of our lives. The illusion remained even as he produced from his bag a list for each of us, and we sat ticking and crossing. Some of the things on that list even I had to Google. Blood play? Cross. Catheterization? Definite Cross. Face slapping? Tick…
As we considered each other’s lists, I saw a wry expression cross his face.
‘I hope you understand, Lily,’ he said, ‘that as long as we are in that room, you are mine to do with as I please. Until you I hear your safeword, or I say it is over.’
I nodded. I had a hard time believing that this man, who seemed utterly polite, normal, and respectful, could do the things I wanted to me. The only thing that made me go ahead? The hungriness I caught in his eyes, and the way his hands grasped the table tightly when we spoke. A need to control.
- - - - - - - - - -
Stepping off the bus, I smoothed down my clothes. My stomach was writhing, and I was so nervous I could barely breathe. I checked the text.
Pleated checked skirt, short. White T-shirt, tight. Ponytail, neat. 187B Cambridge Road.
All present and correct. Heart aflutter, I took off my camel coat, bundled it into my rucksack, and walked up to the door. A normal door, a nondescript grey street in Streatham. I knocked.
A moment later, Henry opened the door.
‘Hello, Miss Weston. Follow me.’
He was dressed sharply, in suit trousers, a crisp blue shirt, and immaculate black brogues. The warm eyes of the man I had met in the cafe were gone, instead a steely glare. As we reached the end of the corridor, he opened a door into an empty classroom filled with old-fashioned wooden desks, years of graffiti scratched into them.
‘Put your rucksack in the corner and sit on a desk. Now.’
I did as told, my plaid skirt sliding up my legs. My heart lurched as he locked the door and turned to face me, standing about two paces away.
‘Do you know why you are here, Miss Weston?’
‘Yes’
‘Yes WHAT?’
‘Yes...Sir.’ I stammered. ‘Because I stole, Sir.’
‘That’s correct, Miss Weston,’ he said coldly, his eyes boring into me. ‘And as a filthy thief, you are going to stay here until I think you have been punished enough. Do you understand?’
‘Yes, Sir,’ I nodded.
Without his eyes leaving me, he slowly rolled up the sleeves of his blue shirt, revealing muscled forearms laced with tattoos. Not such a clean-cut husband type after all, then. He crossed so that the distance between us disappeared, our faces only a hair’s breadth from each other. I could smell him, expensive cologne and something else, something manly and indescribable. The terror was still there, but so was a deep, feral desire for this man. My cunt was tingling in anticipation.
Staring at my lips, he slowly reached under my skirt and pulled down my white cotton knickers so they fell to the floor. I lifted my hips from the desk to help him, desperate for him to touch me. As my pants fell to the floor, I moved my lips to close this distance between us, but before I could kiss him, he grabbed both sides of my face with one hand and slapped me.
Gasping, I clutched my cheek in surprise.
‘Bend over the desk. Now,’ he barked.
I did as I was told, panting slightly with shock as he roughly pushed me against the table so that I was laid diagonally across it, resting on my forearms. Thrusting his hand into the small of my back, he shoved my legs apart and flipped up my short skirt so that I was completely exposed.
‘Arms up, Miss Weston,’ he commanded, and as I did so, took a pair of metal handcuffs out of his pocket and tied my crossed hands to the table leg.
My whole body was aflame and shaking. I could feel the wetness and warmth between my legs, my labia exposed to the air, and to this stranger. I shuddered with fear and desire as I heard the telltale sounds of a belt being unbuttoned, and pushed my cunt upwards toward him, ready and waiting.
But instead of entering me, he walked slowly around to my side of the table, kneeling so that his face was level with mine.
‘You’re mine, slut. Mine to punish as I see fit.’
I nodded mutely in agreement. Placing one large, strong hand on my neck, he slowly circled my lips with his thumb, then squeezed my neck as his thumb entered my waiting, wet mouth. Our eyes never left each other, so I was totally unprepared for the crack of the belt as it broke across my bare ass.
I cried out in pain - he had hit me hard, and the pain was worse than I could have imagined; my ass cheeks felt like they were on fire. Moving so that he was behind me as I whimpered, he slowly ran that same thumb gently from the bottom of my sticky, exposed labia up to my clit. I moaned tortuously, then screamed in pain as the belt hit me again. Once more, his thumb ran its path, this time from clit to labia, pushing open my wet lips, to be followed by the sting of the belt. I was panting frantically in pain and pleasure, my cheeks smarting and my pussy burning and hot.
Juddering forth slightly on my elbows, I sobbed, and my vision quivering. I could hear him moving about the room. Hopelessly, desperately turned on, I barely registered the buzzing noise before he yanked my ponytail around his hand, twisting my body into a U shape, and with his other hand shoved a vibrator inside me.
I moaned frantically in sweet relief - there was nothing my aching pussy wanted more than to be filled at that moment. But he didn’t move the vibrator. Instead, he kept it embedded inside me right to the hilt and reached up under my T-shirt to roughly pinch and twist my nipples. Releasing them, he shoved me forward back onto the desk, and keeping the vibrator packed tightly inside me, hit me one, two, three more times with the belt.
I was yelping and squealing like an animal. I could feel that the skin on my ass had broken with the impact as a trickle of blood was running down my legs. The combination of pain and pleasure was almost unbearable in its intensity.
Striding to the front of the desk, he stood in front of me and at last pulled out his cock, rock hard and blood-filled with desire. It was thick and delicious, and I looked him straight in the eyes as he pushed it roughly into my waiting mouth, holding the back of my head to push it back and forth. The vibrator was still lodged inside me, and I could feel the waves of pleasure starting to build, as I hungrily caressed his beautiful cock with my mouth and tongue, desperately wanting to please him.
With groans of pleasure, he leant across me and rotated the vibrator so that its prongs were on top of my clit. With one hand he pressed it deeply into me, while with the other he clenched my ponytail so that my head was still and frantically fucked my face. I gagged and coughed, tears running down my cheeks. The combination of the vibrations in my cunt and having my mouth used was erotic as fuck, and I came forcefully, spasming and moaning while he held my face in place and pounded into my mouth.
I was grateful when he suddenly withdrew. My body was weak and I collapsed limply into the table as the waves of my orgasm subsided. He cast the vibrator aside, and I breathed heavily, face messy with saliva and precum and pussy dripping down my legs. Despite my spent state, I desperately, desperately still wanted to be fucked by this man.
Stepping behind me, he parted my shaking legs and positioned the head of his cock, still slick with my saliva, behind my pussy so that I could feel it pushing slightly against my entrance.
‘I’m not done with you yet, you filthy little slut,’ he murmured, as his huge hands circled my neck. I groaned with desire and pushed myself up as far as I could with the restraints, looking at him over my shoulder.
‘I want you to fuck me. Fuck me so hard I can’t walk...Sir,’ I whispered.
His hands gripped and then tightened around my throat, constricting it so I couldn’t breathe and muffling my building moan. While he squeezed, he gyrated his hips so that his cock ran the length of my labia and clit, teasing me and building me to a frenzy of desire to be entered while he choked me.
Just at the point when I began to panic, he let go of my neck and slammed me against the table, shoving into me at last with every inch of that huge cock. I let out a guttural moan of relief and pleasure as he slid his length in and out of me again and again. I was glad that he had stretched me out with the vibrator first; he was bigger than that and filled me, length and widthways as he slammed repeatedly against my cervix.
I closed my eyes in pleasure, ground my hips against the table to stimulate my clit, and surrendered myself to the haze as he used me roughly, pounding me like a jackhammer. He grunted with passion as his thrusting grew more frantic, and I surrendered to my second orgasm, even stronger than the first, spasming helplessly as he pushed in his final strokes, then collapsed on top of me.
We were silent for a minute, our bodies staying connected while we breathed heavily. Then gently, he pulled away from me. I felt his cum run down my legs. My bleeding and battered ass and used pussy were exposed to the air, but this time I was grateful for its coolness. I closed my eyes and savoured the feeling and the afterglow of my orgasms, and felt him gently undo my handcuffs and lift me up, pulling me gently into his lap as he sat down on a chair. I began to cry softly.
‘Well done, Lily,’ he whispered into my ear and kissed me on the forehead.
- - - - - - - - - -
Later, I stood naked in the bathroom after showering and looked over my shoulder in the mirror to examine the red welts across my ass cheeks. Fingering them, I smiled.
Delicious.
