SPH-THEMED EROTICA STORIES

*****

Part 2…

The next morning began like so many others: the same obnoxious, chirping alarm blared from Griffin’s phone, causing him to jump from his sleep. He rolled over to his nightstand and switched off the alarm, running his hands over his face. October 21 glowed on the phone’s screen. He’d had that date in the back of his mind for weeks. It almost felt unreal to see it displayed so matter-of-factly.

Today could be monumental for his career. Yes, he should be the one arguing, objecting, strutting back and forth in the courtroom. After all, he drafted the response, the memo, the outline: all of it was his work. However, he’d been relegated to third chair, which is technically not a chair at all. It’s a long, wooden bench behind the tables where his bosses and the attorneys from the other side will battle. Griffin will be there to assist, to watch, and hopefully to learn.

To keep with his routine, Griffin ate breakfast and immediately went to the fitness center in his apartment complex. It was rare for Griffin to be the only one in the gym, but at 5:45 it was empty. Like so many people, he had discovered the power of working out after a bad breakup. Something about it made him connect with his masculinity in a way that he previously hadn’t before. He caught a glimpse of himself in the mirrored wall as he finished his last set, and he was extremely pleased with the man who looked back at him.

Griffin bounced up the stairs to his 4th floor apartment, feeling his pectoral muscles twitch with every step. His usual quick, cool shower nearly rounded out his morning routine, but on this particular morning something stopped him. As he rested his foot on the side of the tub to dry off his calf, he noticed how unusually small his penis looked. Nothing had changed about his body, but the night before had dug into his psyche.

So soon after introducing herself, Victoria had told him, without hesitation, how tiny he was. It was the exact opposite of what a woman was supposed to tell her partner, but her degradation had sparked something in him. His whole life, it had been ingrained into him, carved into the walls of his being: never admit to being small.

As he continued drying off, he remembered back to a nervous night in college. He’d texted back and forth with an Irish girl from his class, and their conversation had turned more adult as the night went on. After he described all the things he would do to her if given the chance, she sent three words that caused a panic: Send a pic. He frantically researched the best way to make a dick pic more impressive. After finally finding the perfect angle, he hit send and placed his phone down. He checked once, twice, to see if his classmate had replied. His heart sank when he saw her reply:

“Gotta go, I’ll see you soon.”

He tossed his phone to the other side of his dorm room and went back to watching the porn that had gotten him as hard as he could be. The skinny redhead on the screen held her forearm up to her partner’s shaft, laughing in disbelief. He dreamed of being lusted over in that manner, to see a woman’s face go from shock to excitement to insatiability.

As he placed his toothbrush back on the sink, Griffin snapped out of this memory. Victoria had humiliated him in such a direct, simple way. He was so curious to know more, to discover–he realized that he had 30 minutes to get rid of his raging erection, get dressed, and begin an incredibly important day.

He chose his outfit deliberately: navy suit, white shirt, light blue tie. It was, in his opinion, the best suit he had. It inspired confidence, made him feel the way a man of his status should feel. At least that’s what he had convinced himself of. His black oxfords walked a block and a half from his office to the courthouse, carrying three large identical binders. There was a nervous energy among him and his bosses — no one would dare say it aloud, but a poor outcome today could be a massive setback for the business. Sitting back and watching such a monumental event scratched against Griffin’s need to control things.

A clammy anxiety came over him as he walked up to courthouse security. Two separate lines, two separate metal detectors, and two sets of guards shouted instructions to those who may otherwise be unfamiliar with the process. After emptying his pockets into a plastic tub and placing his briefcase on the belt to be scanned, a short Latina woman motioned him towards her. Inevitably, the metal detector arch announced his belt buckle, which meant that he had to endure the perfunctory wand test. He stepped towards the brown-eyed guard.

She was probably ten years older than Griffin, and he was ashamed to say: he had fantasized about her before. She was pretty, but there was something about the way she controlled the proceedings, constantly pointing, directing, giving out orders. If you were lucky enough to end up in her line, you could receive permission to enter her domain. Her black hair was slicked back in a neat bun, and her breasts stretched the front of her button-up. What Griffin desired the most, however, was what he could only see on the way out of the courthouse: the back of her khaki pants, showcasing her huge ass. If she ever gave him the chance, would Griffin be able to handle her?

BEEP

His fantasizing was cut short by the sound of her wand announcing its discovery. The buzzing startled him as her wand hovered over his crotch. He instinctively looked down and muttered a half-joke, half-apology, as if he had done something wrong.

“It’s just your belt, I know you’re not hiding anything,” she said with a laugh. She waved him on to enter the courthouse.

Before last night, it never would have crossed Griffin’s mind, but now he couldn’t help but wonder: could she tell? Victoria mentioned his lack of a bulge in yesterday’s blue plaid pants. He wore a darker, more muted suit today to ease his mind, but he knew that the guard’s eyes must follow her wand. Could she see his secret?

“Griff, come on,” his boss called from the elevator a few steps ahead while Griffin fumbled putting his watch back on. No matter how hard it would be, he had to set aside his new fascination and focus on his work. In the afternoon, he would pick up the phone and text Victoria, but until then, his mind had to be clear.

Griffin threw open the heavy door, revealing a bright, modern courtroom. The court reporter had already set up shop. As Griffin’s bosses took up the two seats on their side of the courtroom, he noticed that only one white-haired attorney occupied the opponent’s table. The three older attorneys made small talk while Griffin set up the binders, the outlines, the bullet points — the culmination of weeks of work, all laid out before him.

“Good morning,” he heard a woman’s voice, a low and dignified contrast to the older men’s guffawing about golf, vacations, and the like. He looked up to see a wave of blonde curls and a light gray suit walking straight past him. His knees nearly gave out as his brain connected every missing piece.

The powerful, out-of-state attorney whose professional moniker was only a first initial: V. The effortlessly professional-looking woman at the bar two blocks away. And now, staring straight at him, a perfectly plump ass that seemed as if it had been sculpted meticulously. He imagined a sculptor, covered in clay, spending hours just to get the shape, the size, the curvature just right. She gave his bosses a brisk introduction, and briefly acknowledged the other attorney that she had teamed up with. The ringing in Griffin’s ears silenced as she turned toward him and began to walk.

Victoria looked so similar to how she looked the night before. It was as if her mere presence changed the feeling of the entire courtroom. Griffin wondered how long she had possessed this near-magical power, and how much she had accomplished with it.

“Nice to meet you. I’m Victoria.” She extended a hand towards him. A small silver Cartier watch, worth a few of Griffin’s paychecks, peeked out from the cuff of her light blue shirt. He embraced her hand with a hint of caution. Her cool eye contact, her warm hand–there was nothing that would have indicated to an outsider that she knew Griffin, let alone turned him into an eager submissive just hours earlier.

Victoria watched the color drain from Griffin’s face as he grappled with shock. She saw last night how his wiry forearms bulged as he touched himself, but all he could muster in this moment was a limp handshake. He was hopelessly stuck under her spell.

Without saying another word, Victoria pivoted away from Griffin. She did not feel the need to feign interest in him as a fellow professional. She would not have to nod her head as he told her how long he’d been with his firm. Her only objective was winning this case.

On a good day, court appearances made Griffin a bit nervous. His mouth became dry, his heart rate elevated slightly, his collar suddenly became a bit too tight. No matter how much time and effort he spent preparing, he always felt that there may be something–a fact, a precedent, an angle– that he had missed. Although this anxiety was unfounded, it followed Griffin like a shadow.

“All rise,” boomed the bailiff. The bookish judge threw open the door from his chambers and entered the courtroom as if someone were pushing him up to his perch. In stark contrast to Griffin’s nervous posture, Victoria stood strong at her table, as if she had no concerns about today’s outcome.

Upon the direction of the judge, one of Griffin’s bosses rose from his chair and stomped towards the lectern in the middle of the courtroom. He followed Griffin’s outline to a T, hitting each major point again and again. However, the judge asked more questions than Griffin expected. His tone seemed almost skeptical, but Griffin convinced himself that the judge was simply ruling out any other theories. As the presentation came to a close, Griffin let out a palpable sigh of relief.

“And for the Plaintiff, please step to the podium,” the judge mumbled halfway into the microphone. Victoria mechanically pushed her seat back and removed herself from the polished leather. She cast a subtly derisive glance towards Griffin during her short walk to center stage.

As she began her presentation, Griffin felt his relief disappear. His pulse began to rise, and he forced himself to focus on deep inhales of the courtroom air. Whereas Griffin’s boss was animated, accentuating every point with hand motions and coming close to a yell to drive home his most important contentions, Victoria’s voice never really rose above her patented subdued tone.

With both black patent leather heels planted firmly on the carpet below, she began to expound on an argument that Griffin had cast aside two weeks ago. He analyzed it for a moment, then decided it would be of no use to his opponent, so he did not attempt to address it. But Victoria had seized on it like a panther, ripping it apart in sleek fashion. Griffin finally pried his eyes away from Victoria’s back and looked down.

A resilient erection was poking through his navy blue trousers. All of his blood had rushed to his lap as he watched Victoria eviscerate every bullet point he had prepared. He was panicked. What if he was called to stand up? Not only would everyone know he was hard in the courtroom, even worse, but they’d also see how little he had to work with. He quickly laid his notepad across his lap, trying every trick he had to memorize so many years ago. Cold water rushing down his back, ice cubes on his feet, something, anything to distract him from the fantasies he was having about the woman ten feet away from him.

There were times in the past where Griffin couldn’t get hard. Routine internet searches assured him: it was just stress. But now, in an intensely stressful situation, he remained achingly hard. What type of hold did this woman have on him, and how could he ever expect to get out of it?

“Your honor, it seems as if the defendant’s argument fundamentally misunderstands the issue,” still speaking in a measured manner, Victoria lifted her hand, palm to the judge, as if to signify that this was the most indignant she could get. “There are no facts in dispute. We can end this year-long charade today with a judgment in favor of my client. Thank you,” as she stepped away from the podium, she thankfully did not look Griffin’s way. As she turned, he swore he could see just the slightest gap between the second and third button on her blouse. His mind transported back to the night before, and the way he desperately clung to her pale breasts.

“Thank you, and thank you all for your preparedness. At this time, I’d like to take a five-minute recess.”

Griffin adjusted himself on the stiff wooden bench in an attempt to conceal any remnants of his erection. His boss turned back towards him, rolling his chair to Griffin’s bench. He leaned in with a notepad between him and their opponents.

“This is good,” he whispered. “He’s going to rule from the bench. We won’t have to wait much longer to find out his decision.”

“You think that’s good?”

“Of course,” he assuredly replied. “Your brief knocked their brief out of the water. The shit she brought up sounded good, but I don’t think she can get around your point about the indemnity clause.”

“Okay, great,” Griffin raised his eyebrows to convey his relief as his counterpart scooted back. Three more minutes of uneasy silence passed. No more whispering between co-counsel. The talkative bailiff stood silent with his hands around his belt. Each member in this play realized that this case would come to an end with a few more ticks of the clock. The knob of the judge’s office door turned loudly. Griffin had barely had a chance to straighten his tie before the judge began to speak.

“After careful consideration, I am going to grant judgment to the plaintiff. They raised some very persuasive, salient points today. I don’t believe any remaining issues…” the judge’s voice trailed off in Griffin’s ears. He couldn’t believe it. Weeks of work, all to come up short. The walk back from the courtroom was mostly quiet, which only fueled Griffin’s concerns.

He anticipated that the blame would be shifted to him. Right or wrong, that’s just the way it went: the new guy gets the blame. And if that’s the way it was, then so be it. Griffin had thought about doing something different for a while; joining another firm, practicing in another area of law, hell, practicing in a whole different state. His phone buzzed inside his jacket pocket, interrupting his runaway train of thought.

A message, from the ten digits of an unsaved number, reading the following: “Fulham Hotel, 10:00, Room 808. He assumed it could only be one person, but this was an entirely different hotel. He had been so desperate to have more time with her; he’d never considered it might be her to make the next move.

His emotions whirred, and after a couple of unproductive hours at his desk, Griffin went home to take a nap. 10:00 could not come fast enough. When his alarm rang again, he showered once more, this time settling on a fitted, long-sleeved polo shirt and blue jeans–his favorite casual outfit.

He stole a few glances in the front windows of the Fulham, making sure that he looked his best. His thoughts raced as the elevator dinged, announcing its arrival at the eighth floor. He wanted to run until he found the number 808 and pound on the door, but he forced himself to slow down and portray calmness.

Halfway down the hallway, he stopped and knocked on the door of his destination. The door loudly opened to reveal Victoria standing there in a pair of khaki pants and a tight fitted t-shirt. “Come in,” she smiled. As Griffin walked into the room, he found no suitcase, no evidence that Victoria had any intent to stay that night. For all he could tell, she arrived ten minutes ago, simply to change into something slightly more casual. He had a seat at the bare desk while Victoria positioned herself on the edge of the king-size mattress.

“Congratulations on the case,” he said.

“Thank you,” she said. Before the conversation fell flat, she insisted: “You know, there was nothing more you could have done. Your argument was very good.”

“Not good enough, obviously. Our client has already threatened to fire us, and I expect they will in the next few days.”

“They’d be stupid to. Besides, in a couple of years I bet you’ll be running that firm.” She pressed on to see what type of reaction she would get.

Griffin’s eyebrows mockingly raised. “We’ll see about that. Ron said he wasn’t retiring for at least another five years. I’m not sure about Perry.”

“How would you like a bigger role?”

“How’s that going to happen?”

“You quit your dead-end job and move to my firm. A month ago, I had a headhunter seek out someone to meet my specific criteria, and you check every box. The firm is expanding, and I need a number two to be directly under me. You would report to me, but otherwise, you do your own thing.”

Griffin felt his face turn red. He did not expect the evening to take this turn. When faced with a big decision, his instinct was to stall, to try and find a way to buy more time. But something told him Victoria was not the type to fall for this tactic.

“Wow, that’s…that’s a lot to consider. Uh, thank you for,” his stammering was interrupted by a smack of Victoria’s lips.

“A bigger role, almost double your current salary, and, most important to you: I’d like our arrangement to be a regular thing. I know you would too.”

Griffin’s mind was speeding. For months, he had been in a state of professional wanderlust: what else was out there, and how could he possibly get to it? All these aspirations were valid, but he was embarrassed to admit that being under Victoria’s control was the most appealing aspect of the offer.

“After all, I gave you the best night of your life, and how did you repay me?” she asked, looking deeply into his eyes.

“I tried,” Griffin said with a hint of optimism.

“‘I tried,’ that’s what every woman wants to hear. Tell me, could you try and last longer than 45 seconds, hmm?” She looked at him for his reply, knowing he would have none.

“Don’t get me wrong, I enjoyed watching you struggle.” She leaned in and began to gently run her pointer finger along the crotch of his pants, touching so lightly that it seemed to hover above him. She positioned her mouth centimeters away from Griffin’s earlobe. Her breasts, covered by the t-shirt, crowded his face. Her deep, dark perfume seemed to reach out and grab his cheeks.

“I could barely feel when you went inside me, but it seemed like you were completely overwhelmed. It was too much for you; you couldn’t handle it. Tell me: Is my pussy too much for you?” Her lips finally brushed his earlobe.

“Yes ma’am.”

“And when you tried to really hold on to me and get a little rough? What happened then?”

“I came.” With this, Victoria returned to the edge of the mattress, taking in her subject. She knew that her light petting forced a rush of blood to Griffin’s lap, but it wasn’t apparent through his thick jeans.

“You did, just like a pathetic boy. I could tell that you wanted to take charge and change my mind, convince me that you were strong. But as soon as you tried to pretend, you shot that little load.”

Griffin searched for a line that Victoria could really rip into. “Maybe if I had another chance?” His face cast downward, but his eyes looked up to capture her annoyed expression.

“Another chance? No, no, I don’t think so. We need to work on you a little bit. I’m thinking we can build up your stamina, show you a few tricks. I can teach you how a woman wants to be treated. Even if you aren’t able to do it, perhaps you’ll develop a certain appreciation for it.” Her tone shifted slightly, from encouraging to unsentimental.

“During this time, you’ll be under my control, completely. If I ask you to do something, please do it promptly and without hesitation. I don’t tolerate backtalk, and I don’t want to deal with a pathetic brat.” Her voice was devoid of judgment or emotion; she sounded as if she were reading off the conditions of a contract.

“You need to cherish everything I give you, because I can, at any time, take it away. And no matter how much I teach you, no matter what I give to you, you just understand: you’ll never be a real man.” She shot daggers from her pale green eyes, delivering what Griffin assumed to be the final, most embarrassing requirement of their agreement. Before he had a chance to accept, he was interrupted.

“And this probably goes without saying: you belong completely to me, but not the other way around. You know what that means, right?”

Griffin’s heart began to pound. Within an instant, he’d conjured up an image of her with a stranger–it didn’t matter who it was, what he looked like. He only knew this stranger was bigger and far better equipped to satisfy Victoria. He snapped out of it and gave the only reply he could muster: “Yes, ma’am.”

A smile flashed across Victoria’s face. Not only had he agreed to all these terms, but she could also tell his mind began to wander at the thought of her having fun on her own.

“Very good. Now, strip down. Everything. Go on.”

Griffin kicked off his shoes, quickly lifted his shirt above his head, and undid his pants obediently. She sat directly in front of him on the king-size bed, fixing her gaze on his midsection. She tilted her head in questioning disappointment, as if she’d opened a box to reveal something other than what she had ordered.

“I thought maybe last night was a fluke. Maybe he was just nervous to be with an older woman. Maybe, an actual dick would bounce out of those boxers.'” Still not used to being degraded, Griffin turned his right leg in just a bit, as if he could hide his deficiency.

“No no, don’t try to hide it. If you want to hide, just use your pinky. Stand up straight.” As if Victoria were his commanding officer, Griffin stood at attention: shoulders back, chest out, nothing to hide his tiny dick.

“That’s better. Now I want you to lie down on this bed. I have a plan for you.” Griffin was so excited, he had to stop himself from jumping into the bed. He calmly sat and propped himself up against a pillow. She turned around, straddling his bare legs, her back against his thighs. Griffin wanted so urgently to feel her skin, but all he could feel was the cotton of her pants.

“After your performance last night, you are going to have to earn your way back inside me.” She looked deeply into his eyes to convince him that she was sincere. “I gave you a chance, you failed, now you must deal with the consequences.” Griffin met her stare with the same intensity. Her low pur was enough to make him throb.

“That doesn’t mean I won’t touch you.” She placed her palm flat on his midsection and began to press her thumb against his dick. “But touching me is a privilege, and your privilege has been revoked.”

Griffin could feel the rhythmic pressure she placed onto his shaft. Slowly, she coiled her fingers around him and smirked.

“It just disappears into my hand, doesn’t it?” she began to stroke him, slowly, with her right hand. When the heel pad of her hand pressed up against his stomach, his head barely peeked out from the top of her grip. When her fist rose ever so slightly, it tucked back into her hand, as if it wasn’t there at all.

“That’s not a rhetorical question,” she stopped her hand and squeezed Griffin. Her hands were so feminine: manicured, adorned with expensive rings and red acrylic nails. How could such a thing take away his manhood so easily?

“Yes,” Griffin panted.

“And why does it disappear?”

“You covered it up,” Griffin replied halfheartedly. Deep down, he knew this was not the answer she was looking for, and he wanted to be reprimanded for it.

“Baby, that is now why I can’t see it. One woman’s hand should not be enough to make your dick disappear.” She kept stroking him slowly, twisting her hand as it reached his tip. “In fact, sometimes, two hands are not enough to cover up a dick.” She performatively placed her empty left hand above her right and watched as his chest jumped with a sharp inhale.

“But don’t worry about that for now. Let’s try this again: why does your dick disappear into my hand?”

He cringed, but he was so desperate for her to continue to touch him. “Because it’s not big.”

“No, I’ve read your writing. I know you know the rule: call something what it is, not what it isn’t. Try one more time.”

“It’s too small.”

“You are catching on so quickly,” she said with enthusiasm. “I know you’re taught to be the big strong man, but you had to know you could never be that, right? I mean,” she placed her index and middle finger on either side of the base of his penis and gave it a playful shake. She jerked her hand away and walked to the bathroom. Griffin could hear unzipping, rustling, and after a few seconds, she appeared with a bottle of lotion.

As Victoria knelt back into the bed, she noticed there was, somehow, less of Griffin than when she departed a minute earlier. “You need my hand on you to stay hard? Is that it?” She watched his dick flop to the side and silently shrink.

“Yes, please. Please touch me.”

As she straddled Griffin once more, she noticed he’d begun to leak precum onto himself. She placed both hands on the hem of her T-shirt and paused. “Would you like me to take this off?” Griffin nodded his head vigorously.

“What would you do for me to get my tits out?”

“Anything, please,” Griffin begged.

Victoria raised her eyebrows. “Anything? You won’t get to prove it tonight, but we’ll find out what that means for you soon enough.” Griffin’s mind raced with ideas, all the different ways this woman could humiliate him.

“I am going to awaken the bitch in you, and once I do, you’ll never go back.” Victoria gripped him tightly and began to jerk him faster. Each time her hand came down on his head, he let out a pathetic whimper. She watched his eyes get bigger, his feet driving into the mattress, his legs squirming beneath her.

“Ask me, I know you want to,” Victoria commanded him calmly.

“Can I please cum?”

“Such good manners!” Her tone indicated fake excitement, but to see him this subservient already turned her on deeply. “Yes, you may cum.”

He nodded his head, as Victoria watched his throbbing shrimp, waiting for her cue. His muscular back raised off of the bed, he let out a noise an octave higher than his speaking voice, and at just this moment Victoria yanked her hand away. Griffin’s dick fell back towards his face and began to erupt helplessly onto his stomach. Three thick, white ropes covered him from his shaft to his stomach, and the remainder continued to pool on his thigh as his erection faded away. Though she could not show it, Victoria was again impressed with the amount of cum he produced.

As wet as she was, Victoria forced herself back into character and began an incredulous laugh. “I wasn’t even touching you! That is so pathetic!” Griffin started to rustle beneath her, but she quickly put a hand on his chest.

“And look at this little dicklet.” She placed a pinky under his soft penis and casually lifted it. “You’re going to need a lot more training.”

“Yes ma’am, I will train as much as you let me. Thank you so much for touching me.”

“Go get cleaned up; we’ve got a lot to talk about.” Griffin walked to the bathroom on unsure legs. He had never experienced a ruined orgasm. Typically, he kept stroking until he was done. The large, bright mirror above the sink confirmed that he had made a mess all over himself. However, he did not feel the relief that accompanied an orgasm. This strange feeling only made him crave more. He would do whatever it took to touch Victoria again.

Victoria lay back into the white comforter. Griffin did not pout, did not complain that she had left him to gush, hands-free, back onto himself. Was there something that would make him shy away, or would he continue to empty his balls in whatever manner she prescribed? She could not wait to find out.

To Be Continued…?

*The opinions/views expressed in this story (and in any comments) are those of the author and do not represent this site. We support freedom of speech. This story has been previously published on other free websites and is now in the public domain, so that we can republish it here.