Few things in this world turn me on quite as much as being eye to eye with a hardening cock. Lord knows I can be insecure and I'm not always good at reading people, but knowing that a man is aroused by me, desires me, drives me a little wild.

The man ahead of me, a work colleague and very much not my husband, is no exception. Despite having already cum countless times at his hands in the photography studio loft space, the volume of fresh wetness that seeps from my slit to drizzle down my thighs defies belief. I'm soaked again. Dripping to the floorboards in the tastefully decorated but altogether terrifying dungeon-themed room for the photo shoot.

Jess, the owner of the space and his friend, stands yet again to one side, camera primed, patiently waiting for, well, I don't know. Perhaps the perfect opportunity to capture my continued debauchery and add it to the growing portfolio of decadence I've performed since arriving this afternoon. Things I'd never dreamed I’d even consider, let alone want.

Isaac’s dick is hot in my hand as I settle on my haunches to drink in the unexpectedly pretty sight. The human penis isn't renowned for its aesthetics, but somehow his has an elegance. An untapped power. Intent; even at half hardness.

I look up at him, this man who has turned my world inside out in half a day. He's been in control up until now. He's spanked me, ordered me about, made me beg him for more. And now a muscle works in his jaw as he tries to control himself around me. Fuck, no wonder it makes me wet.

Leaning in to nuzzle the circumcised tip, I flick my attention up again, observing how his eyelids flutter when I trail my tongue along one side of his shaft. Then the other. How the breath catches in his throat when I kiss my way down to his balls and back up past my fingertips to circle the flared crown.

The second biggest thrill is when he begins to harden further. It's difficult not to compare him to Thomas but, besides a few drunken fumbles at uni, my husband is my only real frame of reference. He has a decent, slender cock that fits snugly inside me on the occasions our schedules align for playtime. I've never measured it—not even sure he has either—but it's long enough that I can't take the whole thing in my mouth without my eyes watering.

Isaac is different. About the same length, I'm guessing, though he hasn't yet reached full hardness, so that might change. But in my hand, he's much weightier. Thicker. I don't want to salivate at the thought of how I'm going to fit him all in my mouth, but I do. I slurp up the excess as I nuzzle his girth, left edge, then right, then left again. Each time I cross from side to side, I tickle the little knot on the underside where his foreskin used to be attached.

If it's possible for a pussy to salivate, mine does that too. His gradual firming under my caresses has me dripping with each little breath he takes and each twitch of his delicious cock.

Veins begin to fill from its base, proud of the skin, almost pulsing with life as I flutter and flick my tongue and lips to encourage him to grow more. He takes a sharp breath when I wrap my lips around the very tip and suck, before popping him free and gazing up at him.

The tease is short-lived. He’s not the only one who wants more. I kiss the slit. Flash my tongue over it and linger as a bead of pre-cum forms.

I watch it crest, expand and then ooze onto the crown where I scoop it up with my tongue. Sweet and succulent, he sighs as my reaction to his flavour surfaces. I adore the taste. I think it's the promise; that there will be more for me to savour before the main event.

Darting my tongue against the tiny slit, I flick up repeatedly, coaxing the next droplet out. I don't have to wait long before I'm rewarded, and I draw back a short way to let the silvery string stretch and begin to form an arc, before moving back in and slurping it up.

The camera shutter clicks and I cast a sidelong gaze towards Jess. She's framed my lips attached to his swelling bulb and I spend a few moments playing up to the lens. Turning my head toward it, I let her capture my lips splayed around one edge. Working my mouth wetly along his length, I approach the ridge and nibble, before continuing to reach the end.

I pause with my tongue outstretched, and she snaps the way his latest pearlescent bead stretches to land on my taste buds. Then the hungry slash that wets his entire crown and my descent onto it.

My cheeks puff as I take him in, and I slither back, leaving Jess to commit the saliva strings and half-wet manhood to the memory card. The studio lights on their tripods glint off the slippery coating, sparkling like tiny starbursts that disappear when I slip him into my mouth again.

I take him deeper this time and drip as he skates off the roof of my mouth, triggering my gag reflex. Hauling free, I clear my throat. Stroke his slick shaft. It's fully hard and a little more juice drools from between my thighs at the realisation he’s a fraction longer than Thomas. Significantly thicker.

His girth is now almost menacing as I swirl my tongue around the head and jack the base. Like Isaac’s very presence, his cock feels… dangerous. Like his control could snap any moment and he could take me without regard. Use me, and I'd be powerless to stop him. And, somewhat scarily I realise, I wouldn't want to.

The thought of being taken, of being a mere puppet; a vessel; a receptacle for his pleasure, makes me shudder. Chloe of old—Chloe of earlier today—would have scoffed at the idea and run in the opposite direction. But New Chloe—awakened Chloe—well, she is another thing entirely. I have no idea where she'll go, nor how far she'll be pushed. And that's as liberating as it is terrifying.

Kissing his tip, I rub my lips along his length again. Work my way down to caress and lap his balls that tighten a little as he takes in a sharp breath. His fingertips brushing the mane of hair away from my cheek startles me, and I tense when they don't stop moving. Creeping back, then around, they take up residence at the base of my skull and he eases his hips away from my kisses so his cockhead simply rests on my lower lip.

He's not insistent. Not rough. More encouraging, guiding me forward. His girth splits my lips and a thrill buzzes as he sinks in, gliding along my tongue that tingles at the silky natural lubricant. When I think he's going to stop, he doesn't. My stomach jackknifes and I reflexively yank clear, drawing in breath. He strokes my cheek with his free hand. “Try again.”

I nod, take a breath and compose myself. Upturn my gaze to his. Open, and he eases inside. If anything, he feels bigger, though I know it must be an illusion. His fingertips curl into the base of my neck and he sighs as my throat nears. At the touch, my body gives in and I splutter, reversing off him.

When I finish coughing, I look up expecting disapproval. But he’s impassive. Patient. Strokes my hair. Reaches behind my head and lifts an eyebrow. “Again?”

I can't explain it. I want to please him. To show him I can do it. “Yes, Sir.”

His cock splits my lips once more. Still the same measured slowness, gliding along my tongue, bumping the roof of my mouth, nudging my throat. My eyes water and I gag. Splutter around his thickness, spit flying to pepper his jeans, and I gasp for air as he exits, dropping to all fours and coughing.

He lets me recover. Strokes my hair again. “If you really want this, I have an idea. Do you trust me?”

My chest heaves and I sit back on my haunches. Eye him. Now there's a loaded question. Do I trust him to keep this all between us? Absolutely. He has almost as much to lose as me. Do I trust him to respect limits that yesterday I thought I possessed, or to push me beyond them until I barely recognise myself any more? That, I can't answer.

Yes, there's the safety net. The word he made me memorise that ends the entire session, no questions asked, no judgement. And I've been close to blurting it out, especially when he used the belt on me. But the doors he's unlocked, no, blown the hinges off, in just the last few hours have shown me more about myself than throughout my entire marriage. And that's no disrespect to the husband I love deeply. Isaac is different. Intense. Unpredictable and just dangerous enough to make my heart thump every time he issues a command or mistreats me.

Is that the definition of Trust? I nod.

He reaches down and offers his hand, which I take. Stand. The movement reminds me that I'm still wearing the jeweled buttplug, now accustomed to its unfamiliarity. I let him guide me across the room to one of the padded benches, a little lower than the one I was tied to earlier.

“Lie back.”

Jess pipes up. “Before you do. Some inspiration.”

She holds out the camera and I scroll through the photos, hand clapping to cover my mouth. “Oh my god. You even got the saliva in mid-spray in that one. Wow.”

“Fast shutter,” she grins.

“Do I really look like that?” She nods. “That's unbelievable. It's like… porn but, I dunno, sexy.”

She smiles. “We have been trying to tell you how attractive you are. You're starting to believe it now?”

“Yes.”

She takes the camera back and I ease flat onto the cool bench, tummy and chest settling. Something passes between them, and Jess puts the camera down to bend and clap an ankle cuff around me. The chain leading to the bench leg is short, and I can barely move it as she secures the other. My stomach knots and I focus on Isaac, upside down and regarding me.

“Comfy?”

I test the restraints and nod.

He scoops locks of my hair so they tumble towards the floor. Brushes my lips. “Scooch back a bit more.”

I wriggle as much as I can in the bonds, head tipping back off the bench further so my vision is filled with his crotch. His cock has a bead of arousal on its tip and I extend my tongue. He steps in and rests it on my nose so I can lap the pre-cum.

A soft moan escapes and he presses forward, not stopping. I wobble, reflexively bringing my hands up to cover my belly. A self-defence mechanism, I expect. He pulls out halfway.

“Do that again and I will tie your wrists to the bench too. Got it?”

He slithers out all the way.

“Yes, Sir.” I move my hands over my head, fingertips lightly gripping his thighs as he fills my mouth again. My grip tightens in panic as he pushes into my throat, stomach arching high, pulling my cough away from the invasion. He follows and reinserts, shoving forward despite the shallower angle, and I make a few filthy involuntary noises until he pulls free, saliva looping between us and dripping to the floorboards.

Tears prick at the corners of my eyes and I swipe at them. Slither back down, returning to my prone form and look up at him. He strokes my chin. My throat. “Good girl. Jess is going to make you look stunning with your throat bulging.”

I shiver and he lays his wet cock on my face, letting me lick, then steps forward so I can access his sac too. My tongue explores, lapping his base, sucking his balls, happy for the temporary respite to catch my breath.

He doesn't seem in a hurry to return to my mouth, and it dawns on me he's waiting for my offer. I catch his eye. Return my hands to his thighs, pause and open my mouth. His smile spreads and he circles my lips with his flared tip, smearing delicious pre-cum as a sweetener before taking my air without warning. I gag. Splutter. Try not to retch but push him away, gasping.

Almost immediately though, I open again and widen my eyes to signal another. He ploughs in, a fraction deeper, and I keep him there for a split second longer before twisting free, spitting.

I'm dimly aware of Jess moving around the space and capturing various moments, as Isaac strokes my cheek. “You're doing so well.”

Sliding my gaze up to his, I chew my lip. “I think I know what I need.” I persuade my hands to give up their grip on his thighs, and I grab the metal legs instead. Isaac regards me, eyes burning with an intensity. “Are you sure?”

I don't answer or move, so he bends to secure first one, then the other cuff around my wrists. I drip, actually drip onto the bench. I can feel it drizzling around the plug and pooling under my bare bottom as I test the bonds. I can't move. And I won't be able to push him away. But placing my trust in him like this is worth it because I need him to guide me to what my body is capable of. And besides, Jess is still here, carefully watching everything.

Trailing his fingertips up from wrist to bicep generates a full-body shiver, amplified when he carries on and clutches my breast. He lets out a half moan, half growl and presses his rigid cock to my lips again. I accept.

His grip tightens with each millimetre of his shaft I take. Juices seep from me faster, the deeper he goes, and I'm determined this time to conquer my gag reflex. I don't. But gagging on his incredible manhood somehow doesn't feel like failure. I crave more, despite the coughs, splutters and filthy wet noises that spill into the space. 

He reaches for my other breast and squeezes both until I gasp, using the widened opening as an opportunity to stuff another inch inside. Spit bubbles form, fly and sway alongside my cheek until he yanks free and wipes them over my mouth, praising me.

I don't think I've ever been as wet, and that includes the recent series of orgasms he treated me to. There has to be something wrong with me to want to be used in this way. Not degraded as such, but owned and controlled. 

As my breathing stabilises and he finishes cleaning the mess on my face, he rests the ridge on my lips again. “Think you can take more?”

I give a faint nod and, almost before I finish, he's forging into my mouth without regard. My throat closes around the invasion and I make the dirtiest sounds and groans as I flap uselessly at the restraints. I struggle for breath as he grips my chest and uses my tits as leverage to wiggle more of his delicious cock deeper. Bound, there's nothing else for me to do other than take what he's giving me, so I finally surrender.

The act of giving myself to him so completely is electrifying. Even though I should be focusing on strategies to avoid losing consciousness, my pussy still finds the energy from somewhere to clench and drip uncontrollably. I'm nothing but his plaything, and yet I'm a twisted wreck of want, dying to be shoved into the abyss, fucked and ruined, craving release. 

Just when I fear I'm about to puke or pass out, Isaac tears free and lets me breathe. I clasp the bench leg for stability and arch as far as I'm able. Some demonic snarl forms in my throat and I almost don't recognise my own voice. “Fuck me. Fill me. Anything. Make me cum. Please.”

I writhe on the bench in the pool of arousal, gasping for air and begging. “Please, Isaac. Finish me.”

There's a pause. A temporary lull that hangs between us, the only sound my laboured breathing and the faint clack of Jess capturing my descent.

The next sensation is his hands sliding from my chest to my thighs, pausing alongside my snatch before making contact. At my gasp, the dripping cock alongside my face reappears at my lips and, without warning at an unfamiliar angle, I'm unable to breathe for an instant. He pulls out, circles my clit and slams in again. Out. In. Out, he fucks my throat with glorious abandon as he worms a finger inside me, crooks it to beckon my orgasm into existence, and anchors his thumb on my clit.

There is nothing but the totality of climax. No work. No stress. No husband. No me. Just fire and rapture raging from my core outward.

The camera clicks each time he's embedded, and I'm unable to scream around him. All that tumbles from my mouth between Isaac's thrusts are some pathetic squawks and groans as I lose control.

My body is somehow tight, yet elastic. Despicable squirts of juice coat his fingers as he pulls each successive wave of orgasm from me. I twist and flail, totally at his mercy as the beat of climax thunders through my body. There seems to be no end. How can I possibly have that much fluid inside me? He moans over my pulsing pussy, coaxing the torrent and somehow manufacturing more with his magic fingers.

All the while he somehow has the wherewithal to continue pounding my face. I gurgle and gurp in response, jerking as my gag reflex is activated each time. He doesn't care and that, bizarrely, makes it hotter. I'm somehow nothing to him, yet everything. My pleasure, my very existence is entirely under his control. It would be difficult to use the safe word between thrusts, but I don't want to. I have the option to tap his legs near my flailing hands and enough leeway in the bonds to reverse or twist free. But I trust him. Take it. And for someone I've known less than a year, that's equally worrying as it is amazing.

There's no real time for reflection, my haphazard thoughts interspersed with the stabs of his mammoth cock blocking my windpipe. A fresh wave of panic wars with elation as his groans rise and I know he’s about to blow.

He tenses, and each sharp intake of breath is paired with an exhalation that carries my name. Not his girlfriend's name. Mine. My stomach knots, his simple admission that I'm the only thing on his mind triggering a swell of pride and power above the clash of commitment. Where do we go from here? Am I doomed to a loving marriage devoid of the endless highs I can seemingly get from the man buried in my throat, moaning as his first spurt fires?

Oxygen floods my system when he yanks free, grips his shaft with one hand and aims. I'm still coughing from the direct injection of the first spunk stream when the second arcs over my nose and splatters onto my heaving, wobbly chest. It trickles into the hollow by my collarbone and the third groaning squirt stripes my cheek.

His sticky spunk is hot where it lands. Bridge of my nose. Chin. Neck. Lips. It mixes with the frothy loops of saliva that slither down my cheek into my dangling hair. It represents a different kind of branding to the handprints, slaps and fingermarks that I'll somehow have to explain away to Thomas. Isaac's searing fluid seems more personal, more potent, marking me as his property. Which is a ludicrous concept because it's only cum. But it's what it represents that carries the power.

I've already submitted to him. Called him Sir. He's made me admit that, despite my less-than-toned shape, I'm desirable. And if I needed any more proof of my beauty, wearing his cum is it. He’s seen past the curvy veneer I've been trying to hide from the world, and exposed it. Celebrated it. Reveled in it. He's enabled my repressed image to shine, captured on Jess’ memory cards as a permanent reminder of who I am inside; a version of myself I never knew was there.

As the flood between my legs wanes with contractions around the space that was recently filled with Issac, I gasp, eyes flitting to draw everything that's in focus. His cock droops fractionally and brushes my cheek, so I seek it out with my tongue. Lap and suck the delicious remnants of spunk. He helps by scooping some of the wayward stripes into my eager mouth, taking every opportunity to stroke my cheek and whisper how beautiful I am. I blush.

Isaac takes a step away, his cock trailing across my forehead before he bends to kiss me. Our tongues and lips explore, and the moment stretches.

Jess steps in and uncuffs me, helps me sit, my legs dangling off the bench edge. I watch Isaac tuck himself away and make eye contact.

“Thank you. Truly. I’ve never experienced intensity quite like that.”

He smiles. “You're more than welcome. If it helps you express yourself more, it's worth every moment.”

I nod. “It's incredible. This power of submitting. I can’t fully process it.”

“It'll take time.”

Running my hands over my wet thighs, I sigh. “I was meant to be thanking you and it somehow deflected to me again.”

Isaac waves the worry away. “It's all good.”

“But it isn't. I'm still tingly. Aflutter. And I…” glancing away to the window through the gap between the studio dividers, I take a shaky breath. “We have this opportunity. This one shot to seize everything.”

“Back down, Eminem.”

I revert my stare to him, a faint smile lifting, but he looks away. “Chloe, no. You don't want that. There are lines. We've already crossed way more than I thought; than I envisaged. But I did it for you.”

Tracing a wiggly path through the juices on my inner thigh, I lift it between us and wait for him to look. “What's one more line?”

“Chloe, we can't.”

“We could.”

“We shouldn't. We're colleagues.”

“Yeah. And the office is just the other side of that partition.” I nod beyond him.

With a little hop, I slip off the bench and approach, leaning in to murmur, “Come on. No cameras. Just us. One time.” I reach up on tiptoes, belly skimming his arm and lower my voice to a whisper. “Isaac Collins. I want to fuck you.”

He inhales. Sighs and I slip my hand in his, then take the lead and tug him towards the dungeon exit.