Serving Stephanie
A Fictional Story by MileBiGuy.
We’d been fucking for a good 15 minutes or so, and it… just wasn’t working. I was having trouble feeling much sensation because my hard cock felt like it was just floating in warm butter. Nice, but not enough. Even Stephanie flexing her Kegel-enhanced pelvic muscles wasn’t making a difference. And I could see the frustration in her clenched jaw and the sheen of sweat on her flushed, beautiful face – she wasn’t feeling much either.
We’d been doing girl-on-top, and she leaned forward to kiss and bite my throat. Her long wavy, naturally blonde hair dragged across my face, and I closed my eyes to enjoy the sensation overload I was experiencing.
“Hold still!” Stephanie snapped when I pushed to thrust up into her. I obeyed, and she sat up in a cowgirl position on my pelvis, trying to bounce up and down. I let my eyes wander down her magnificent body as she moved, her long torso, core muscles flexing, hard pencil-eraser nipples capping her tiny, delicious breasts. She worked hard to maintain her body at this level, and her long and lucrative modeling career was the reward.
She stared down at me, ice-blue eyes flashing with lust and hunger as she ground her hips, her hot pussy easily swallowing my throbbing 4″ length of hard flesh. She wrapped her long fingers around my throat and began squeezing as she panted and picked up the pace. Stephanie was great at dirty talk, so hot: “Mmmh.. Yeah, choke the shit out of you, you little bitch. C’mon, give it to me. Give me what I want. Give me my orgasm, slut.” Her grip tightened, and I labored to draw breath, fighting the urge to gag and cough as she choked me. I wheezed and looked up lovingly at her. She only got herself up and down the short length of my shaft two or three times, unfortunately, before I slipped out and she bounced down awkwardly against me. Disappointed, she paused to reach down and put me back in to try again.
I started to say something, to offer to change positions, but she adjusted her grip from my throat and clamped her hand over my mouth, effectively shutting me up. Her fingers squeezed my face, and her knuckle occasionally blocked my nostrils, cutting off my breath. I squirmed to adjust, but she pushed harder. The feeling of suffocation was driving me wild.
“I said hold still!” she gasped between her bounces, and I slipped out again. “Fucking little useless cock.” She muttered, but then corrected, “No. No, it’s not your fault. I can do this.”
I think she may have been talking to herself, though, the way an athlete self-motivates before the big game. Stephanie was successful at everything, and this situation was no different. In the boardroom, in life, in bed – there was nothing she couldn’t do. Her confidence had taken her far in life, and it was going to get us through this too.
After a handful of attempts, she shifted her technique, grinding and rolling her hips back and forth instead. But I couldn’t stay in even at this angle. Now, she ended up with her wet pussy sliding back and forth on top of my hard little shaft.
“Goddamn it…,” she swore.
Stephanie was in charge, always. Out of the bedroom, she ran the relationship, and there was no question about her authority. She made the decisions, seeking my opinion only occasionally, and I was expected to fall in line and obey, and there was hell to pay when I didn’t. When we first started dating, I tried to buck her control, assuming she was looking to test my masculinity – such as it was – or challenge me in the hopes of finding a powerful man to submit to.
“You’ve been reading too many magazines,” she laughed when she found out. We’d been arguing constantly, unhappy and full of friction and resentment. It wasn’t until it became clear to me – she was the alpha, expecting my acquiescence and submission. This was a role I was happy to fill, certainly more comfortably than chafing at trying to be dominant and alpha. She laughed when I finally explained, and it was a huge relief from the pressure, like a steam valve threading to burst the pipe, opening just in time. “God, no. Just let me run things. I’m good at it – trust me, it will work best this way.”
It was an easier transition than I expected, and since that day, things had been great. She ruled, she commanded, she sometimes punished. And she fucked. She always fucked me, and was quick to correct my language if I slipped and reversed our roles.
“You’re the girl in our bed, honey. And out. Just relax and be what you are.” And so I did.
But occasionally it led to moments like tonight, when the rhythm was just off and she, in her frustration, tried to fix it. It never worked, but this was her way of handling it. And here I was, on my back, looking up into her eyes, long locks of her blond hair cascading down around her face and swinging wildly, as she fought to force her orgasm. Finally, she seemed to admit defeat and rolled off me with a frustrated sigh.
We lay quietly for a moment, me gently testing the places on my neck where her long, strong fingers had clamped down. There would be bruising, I knew – this wasn’t the first time she had tried to choke her orgasm out of me. Usually, she was more successful…
I glanced over to see her eyeing my cock, which was still hard and gleaming with our juices.
“I want to try a new trick. Spread your legs,” she ordered, and I obeyed, shifting my legs apart and letting my pelvis roll open. She moved, catlike in between, and we found ourselves in a role-reversed missionary position. She lay on top of my body, now gently kissing me like I was her woman, on my face. She was between my legs like a man, and as I took a moment to enjoy our little gentle interlude, she drenched me deeply, and I felt her pussy, opening at the head of my cock for an instant before I was in her wet heat again. I felt so exposed, my body a perfect metaphor for my emotional state.
“A new trick?” I asked. Where was she learning new tricks? I wondered silently.
“You’re so little,” she whispered, ignoring my question. “But I’ll make this work.” She was determined – she would force the pleasure out of this situation, of me, no matter what.
She started writhing, rolling her hips like before, fucking me like a chick again. I had to lie still as her thrusting started in increase in tempo and force, and with each upstroke, I could feel the head of my cock at the mouth of her hungry pussy, her lips and the piercing brushing over my engorged sensitive glans. At least I could feel something now, I thought gratefully, but I was tense, fearing that I would slip out of her yet again if she increased the pace at all. We weren’t moving that vigorously yet, and I knew she would need more to reach her peak. I guess she noticed my tension and slowed her pace, looking with concern into my eyes. God, she was so sexy.
“What’s up, baby?”
“Huh? Uh, nothing…” I said, avoiding eye contact.
“No, what’s up?” She asked, in a more serious and worried tone, her gyrations slowing to a stop.
“Oh, it’s just… I mean. Just my mind on work stuff.” I lied.
“Oh, are you sure?”
“Yeah, baby. C’mon – fuck me.” I begged in the best lusty pleading I could muster.
She smiled and kissed me deeply and started riding me again. It was such an unusual feeling – like “regular,” vanilla, penis-in-vagina sex, but strangely vulnerable. Yes, my penis was in her, but it was clear she was fucking me, penetrating me, owning our sex.
She found a comfortable rhythm, and her breath increased again. She fell forward onto my chest and bit my neck and pulled my hair, and I could hear her moaning. “Yessss baby… give it to me…” I tried to relax and not focus on staying in her. I felt her nipples harden against my chest and she bit again, sending pain and pleasure wires down my nerves. Yes! This was working, finally. Her muscles were flexing and relaxing smoothly again, and we were sweating and the….
Dammit. My cock plopped out with a wet squish, my fear realized. She tried to adjust without stopping, and dry humped against my pubic bone for a second. I shifted slightly and was able to re-enter her. She smiled, “Good boy,” and got another three or four thrusts before it happened again, this time, twisting my cock painfully to the side. I winced, but she didn’t notice, and after several attempts to remount without serious adjustment, let out a huff and growl and reached back to reinsert me with her hand.
I shuddered as I felt three of her long fingers encircle my wet, hard cock – the full length of my shaft not long enough to fit all four of her fingers and she hissed, “You better not cum now.”
I nodded my obedience and took a deep breath and tried not to think too much about how great her grip felt on my cock. Last time I came without permission, I was restricted from orgasm for a week, and whipped the next morning severely. “That’s my cock, you understand? Please don’t use it unless I tell you to. Your orgasms belong to me! How dare you take what’s mine without my permission.’ She was genuinely furious.
“PLEASE, Stephanie! I’m so sorry! Please- it hurts, please stop!” I begged in genuine terror, as the tears ran down my face, hoping her arm would tire of slashing her leather belt across my naked, red and blistered ass. “I’ll do as I’m told and always obey you,” I sobbed, cowering naked and shaking with fear at her feet.
“I’m so disappointed in you,” she sighed, shaking her head. Her words cut deep, almost as painful as the vicious beating I had just taken. “But this isn’t your fault. You are still weak and unable to resist the urge to take what’s mine,” she nodded at my cock, which was erect and dripping, “Even though you knew how much your indiscretion hurts me, you did it anyway because you thought you could and get away with it. The failing is mine and mine alone. I failed you – I allowed my affection for you to get in the way. What seemed like kindness was actually the opposite. When I don’t hold you accountable or provide the guidance and corrective structure you need, it sends the message that I am soft and lenient, that I can be taken advantage of, that my words can be questioned and my directions optional. Let me assure you, they are not.”
She paused for a moment in consideration before continuing, “Clearly, my training hasn’t been effective. We have a long way to go,” she warned, as I wept softly. That was one of the worst moments of my life – the guilt I felt at that moment for failing her was overwhelming, and worse, she blamed herself. It only stiffened my resolve to work harder to earn my spot on my knees at her feet and prove I was worthy of the gift of her domination.
Stephanie’s lessons were harsh, even cruel and excessively so, but they served their purpose, and they were effective. I learned quickly, but there were always more lessons, more opportunities to fail, more humiliating punishments. Sometimes it felt like she set up situations where success was impossible, just as an excuse to beat me raw and show me that she was only doing it because she could and because she wanted to.
Now, she was clearly annoyed. “I don’t know what’s wrong; that usually works well…” Of course, we both knew what was wrong.
I just nodded and mumbled, “Yes baby,” unable to come up with something to say that would offer a solution without acknowledging the truth – I was too small for this position. Not that this was anything new for us – there were several sex positions she liked to do that I either couldn’t reach at all or was too small to be effective. But this new thing tonight seemed to bother her more than usual.
I remembered that night, just a week or so after we’d started fucking — after she started fucking me, I corrected myself – when we’d tried to do a standing thing, with me entering her from behind, with one of her legs lifted, her foot on the edge of the tub as she bent over the bathroom sink. Her pussy opened beautifully, still wet from the saliva I’d left while sucking and licking her clit as I knelt on the cold, hard bathroom tile floor, my neck twisted at an uncomfortable angle. I took a deep breath, went up on tip-toe, and pressed the swollen, red head of my cock to her wet lips and tried to enter her.
Stephanie is tall, 5’10” – a good two inches taller than me, and the muscles in her long legs stretched, the tight perfect curves of her little ass spread. It was sexy as all hell, and her juices, rushing down her inner thighs, were so delicious. She wasn’t my first rodeo, though, and I knew this would be a problem, as it had been for several girlfriends before her. I wanted to do my best and please her, so instead of hesitating or trying to move her into a more advantageous position, I stepped behind her, rolling my hips up and slid myself into her. I strained on my tiptoes, but the angle of her ass and my short length left me fully pushed up and forward – and only the head of my cock, barely able to reach deeper than her swollen labia. I just sort of stood there, unsure of what to do next.
“What are you waiting for? Get in me – fuck me!” I tried – oh, how I tried – but any movement at all caused my cock to slip out of her immediately. After two or three tries, she said, “Here, let me,” and arched her back, pushing her hard, round ass further out – which only served to bump my hips back, and the tip slipped out again. She took it in stride though and without another thought, flipped around and wrapped her long legs around me, pulling up and slipping down on my little cock.
And so it went. Doggy, side-sex, head down-ass up – all the positions she loved so much that I was unable to do, but she never complained about it and always tried to adjust. And I didn’t ask her about it, figuring it was best left unspoken between us. We both knew my cock was inadequate and undersized – at its hardest, barely the length of her index finger – and probably contributed to the eventual demise of our relationship, as I look back now. It wasn’t the only reason, but bad sex always makes any other problems you’re having so much worse.
But tonight was different – this seemed to really bother her, in a way I hadn’t seen before. Still, I could tell she wasn’t mad at me or anything. She never openly mocked me and only humiliated me as part of our kinky sex play – though to anyone who didn’t know her, Stephanie’s blunt statements of fact – “you’re very small” – probably would have seemed cruel. Stephanie was an engineer by trade, and solving spatial problems like this was her wheelhouse. She wasn’t angry so much as just problem-solving, working to find the optimal solution, which led to what happened next.
“Okay, let’s try this…” She said, again as much to herself as to me. She looked down between us, between her legs, and over her shaved, naked pussy to where my little cock throbbed and quivered helplessly. With a breath she sat up and straddled my hips in a wide-leg squat – god I loved to see the muscles in her perfect legs tighten and shift, and her v-cuts and six-pack belly flex. I exhaled in pleasure as she sat down on my cock, swallowing my little rod as deep as it could go – not deep at all, really.
I wasn’t sure what she was doing though – great as this felt, we’d tried this before, and any vigorous bouncing up and down and I would come right out of her. But she twisted to look back at my feet now, and grabbed first my left ankle, and then reached back the other way and grabbed my right. Stephanie was a sexual athlete, no doubt – this was advanced stuff.
“Now what?” I teased.
“Shut up!” She ordered, and in one movement, pushed up and forward with her strong thighs, first pulling up and then pushing my legs by the ankles out and back toward the pillows. “C’mon… almost…,” she huffed with another push forward, while trying to bear down to keep my little cock in her. “Yes, there it is!” and suddenly, our bodies locked into the position. It was weird at first – my legs were spread and pulled up, my knees on either side of my head, and my toes touching the headboard.
She slid her grip along my calves to the hollow spots behind my knees, and she held me down tightly as she continued to press them down and open like she was a frat boy trying to put his drunken date’s legs behind her ears or something. She couldn’t go all the way with it, not that I wasn’t flexible enough – one of my favorite stunts to show new sex partners was how easily I could do just that. In addition to being a great crowd-pleaser, it also conveniently opened my asshole nicely for whatever they wanted to invade me with. But those stories are for other nights.
She pushed with her pelvis to roll my hips up, and I had to flex my core like a crunch to keep rolled up until her center of balance shifted over, and she now sat down, using her body weight to keep me pinned like this. She leaned forward between my spread legs and kissed me hard. Incredibly, my cock was still in her, still throbbing and hard as a rock. If it hadn’t taken such concentration to get into this position, I’d have shot my load into her hot pussy by now. Every move she made seemed to drive me even deeper into her. The tendons connecting the shaft of my penis to my body stretched deliciously – imagine reaching down between your legs to push your erection straight down and holding it there.
That’s what her pussy and the angle of our bodies were doing to my cock. It was intense to feel so deep, and as she started to thrust, fucking me hard and fast, her weight and the folded-up half spread-eagle she had forced me into, holding my legs up, ensured my hard rod had nowhere to go but inside her. The friction felt fantastic, and I guess she noticed too, because in no time at all she was fucking hard and fast, riding to her first shattering orgasm. I wondered if this was what fucking a girl felt like when you had a big cock. I’d never know, of course, but it was fun to imagine.
She increased the pace and force of her thrusts, and the odd position was putting pressure on my lungs and diaphragm from below, and I had to take quick, shallow breaths. I quickly became light-headed and realized I was nearing my own pounding explosion.
She kissed me again, her hair falling over my face and shoulders, and she bit down hard on my lower lip. My cry of pain sent her shuddering with pleasure as she slipped over the edge, into a creaming, screaming orgasm. I felt her pussy juice flood out onto my bald pubic area and run down in a rivulet to where it pooled at my upturned, clenching asshole. More little streams ran down my ass cheeks and back, racing toward the sheets. She froze now, bearing down as hard as she could and bit my jugular, and I could feel her body wrench with the ecstasy. I was totally hers. She owned every bit of me, and I was so close to orgasm, but I dared not cum, not without her say-so. Fortunately, the breathing efforts were enough of a distraction to keep me from going over myself, though just barely.
“Mmmm, oh god. Yess!” She moaned loudly into my neck, still holding my skin in her teeth, marking me with her bite like a dog establishes itself as the alpha. Her body shook, quivered, and spasmed… “Mmmm oooooh goddd…” She gasped and began rotating her hips again, fast and hard, and I felt her wetness drench me once more, this time the gushing fluids running down into my curved belly. The pool of her juices at my asshole spilled out as she rocked her center of balance into my body, and then filled up again with her flowing cum. I was drenched in her – Stephanie’s sex, Stephanie’s orgasm. I was Stephanie’s property.
She took several deep breaths, followed by short, shallow, ragged inhales, and I knew she was about to cum again. We’d reached that point where her orgasms became rolling waves of peak and ebb, peak and ebb over and over. Our bodies were slick with sweat and muscles exhausted as she worked my cock. I knew from experience that she could sustain this for a long, long time.
“Please…” I begged. I wanted to say more, but she released my ankle now and clamped the free hand over my mouth- she loved that move.
“Shut up, shut up, shut up. You little bitch” she moaned, and began shaking again. My freed leg flopped up and down, and my foot even bumped my head a few times. “C… cumm… come on… yes give it to me…,” she managed to stutter out, “cum… cumm fill me with your cum, bitch,”
I didn’t hesitate, and it just took one easy flex of my pelvic muscles as she slammed down on my throbbing hard cock and I felt myself explode, pulsing and squirting deep into her over and over, blinded and shaking with pleasure.
Her pussy felt tight for the first time, tighter than it ever had as it clamped down on my spasming cock and she came again, hard and screaming. I’d lost count of her orgasms, and I thought I would pass out – she still had her hand clamped over my mouth, and I was having trouble inhaling enough oxygen.
And finally, impossibly, it was over. She fell limp, forward against me, shoving my knees into my face and my ankles flopping freely, feet hitting the headboard. I groaned loudly, and she released her grip, grunting as she rolled off me. My body unrolled, and I took a deep breath, feeling our sweat and cum comingled, slick on my skin, gasping, inhaling our delicious sex odors. My muscles were stiff, and I felt like I’d run a triathlon. Opening my body back up to take deep breaths was like coming back to life again.
She lay silently for a few moments, just regaining herself, and then I saw her look over to me, eyes gleaming. “Yessss…” She whispered with a smile. “Amazing. Mmmm.”
She stretched luxuriously and sat up next to me on the bed, leaned over, and kissed me deeply. My mouth opened reflexively, allowing her insistent, probing tongue between my lips, exploring hungrily for a moment, and I knew what was coming next.
She pulled away, gave me a quick wink and a mischievous smile, then hopped up and straddled my face.
“Lick.” She ordered, and we spent the next 10 minutes or so like this. She sat on my face, and I worshipped her pussy and tasted my salty cum oozing out of her and into my open mouth. I inhaled deeply through my nostrils, taking in her scent. I knew better than to swallow it without her permission and did my best as she rode my face to another two or three orgasms, strong and quick but not nearly as powerful as before. She ground her clit roughly back and forth over the bridge of my nose while I tried to jam my tongue into her leaking opening to suck my cum out of her and still not spill any.
Finally, she sat back and looked down at me while I held my mouth open for her inspection. She smiled. ‘You nasty little cum whore. You can swallow.” I obeyed instantly. I don’t think I did a very good job keeping the sizable load in my mouth – I could feel it running down my cheeks, over my neck and into the damp hair at the back of my neck. Globs of the sticky cum clung to my tongue as more slipped down my throat. Normally, this would lead to further punishment, but she was so spent from her chain of orgasms that she didn’t care. Maybe I’d pay later – you never knew with Stephanie.
“Good night, love.” She laughed, and we pulled the blankets up, asleep almost before they settled around us. Neither of us noticed or cared that we were still soaked with sweat, cum and sex. It was bliss, and I was her bitch.
Stephanie’s thighs clamped around my head like a vice, her slick pussy grinding against my mouth with a desperation that told me she wasn’t finished—not even close. Her juices coated my chin, my cheeks, and dripped down my neck. I lapped at her hungrily, my tongue dragging flat and wide up her slit, then flicking rapidly against her swollen clit, the way she’d trained me to.
“That’s it,” she breathed, her voice ragged and wrecked from her earlier screams. “Don’t you fucking stop.”
I wouldn’t. I couldn’t. My jaw ached, my tongue burned, but the thought of disappointing her—of the crop, the belt, the cold words—kept me working. I sealed my lips around her clit and sucked, two fingers sliding inside her, curling upward against that rough spot she loved.
She shuddered. Her hand fisted my hair, pulling hard enough to sting. “More. Harder.”
I added a third finger, pumping them in deep, feeling her walls clench and flutter. My cock twitched against the soaked sheets, half-hard again despite everything, a pathetic, eager thing that belonged to her. She’d laugh at it later, maybe. Tell me how small it looked. How useless. And I’d thank her for the honesty.
Stephanie rode my face in long, rolling waves, her hips rolling in that hypnotic rhythm I knew so well. She leaned back, one hand braced on my chest, the other still gripping my hair, and I watched her stomach muscles flex in the dim light—sweat beading on her skin, her tits bouncing slightly with each grind. She was magnificent. Terrifying. Mine in the way a dog is owned by its master.
“I’m going to cum again,” she announced, not asking, not warning. Just stating fact. Her thighs squeezed tighter. “Open your mouth.”
I obeyed instantly, jaw dropping, tongue out, fingers still buried deep inside her. She ground down hard, her clit mashing against my tongue, and I felt it—the sudden flood of wetness, the violent clench of her pussy around my fingers, the full-body shudder that rippled through her. She came with a guttural moan, her head thrown back, and I swallowed everything she gave me, licking through her orgasm until she finally stilled.
For a long moment, neither of us moved. The room smelled like sex—raw, heavy, unmistakable. The sheets beneath me were ruined, soaked with sweat, cum, her slick. I felt hollowed out. Used. Perfectly, completely used.
Stephanie climbed off my face slowly, her legs unsteady. She collapsed beside me, her breathing harsh, and I felt her hand rest on my chest—not gentle, exactly, but possessive. Claiming. Her fingers traced the bite marks she’d left across my collarbone, my shoulder, my neck. I’d wear them tomorrow. She’d make sure of it.
“Good boy,” she murmured.
Two words. They hit me harder than any whip. My throat tightened, and something warm and stupid flooded my chest. I turned my head to look at her—her flushed face, her wild hair stuck to her forehead, her lips swollen from kissing and biting.
“Thank you,” I whispered.
She smirked, that sharp, knowing look that always made my stomach drop. “Don’t get sentimental.” She rolled onto her side, propping herself up on one elbow, looking down at me with those dark, calculating eyes. “You came inside me without asking.”
My blood went cold.
“I—I—”
“Shh.” She pressed a finger to my lips. “I felt it. You know the rule.”
My heart hammered. “You said—”
“I said nothing.” Her finger traced down my chin, my throat, stopping at the hollow of my neck. “You got caught up. I understand. But rules are rules.”
I swallowed hard. “What’s my punishment?”
She studied me, letting the silence stretch until I wanted to beg. Then she smiled—slow, cruel, beautiful.
“Tomorrow,” she said. “I’ll decide tomorrow. And you’ll take whatever I give you. Won’t you?”
“Yes.”
“Louder.”
“Yes.” My voice cracked. “Yes, I’ll take it.”
“Good.” She lay back down, pulling me against her, my head resting on her chest. I could hear her heartbeat—steady, strong, commanding even at rest. Her fingers combed through my hair idly, almost tenderly. The contrast made my head spin. Ten minutes ago she’d been choking me, riding my face, calling me her pathetic little toy. Now she was stroking my hair like I was something precious.
That was Stephanie. That was us. The cruelty and the tenderness were the same thing—two sides of her ownership, her control. She hurt me because I was hers. She held me because I was hers. Every mark on my body, every whispered degradation, every orgasm she allowed or denied—it was all the same language. You belong to me.
“Steph?” I murmured, already half-asleep.
“Hmm.”
“I love you.”
Her hand paused in my hair. Then resumed. She didn’t say it back. She never did. Instead, she kissed the top of my head, her lips lingering, and pulled me tighter against her.
That was enough. That was everything.
—
I woke to pain.
Not the good kind—not the ache of well-used muscles or the sting of bites and scratches. This was sharp, immediate—the crack of leather against my bare ass before I was even fully conscious.
“Up. On your knees. Now.”
I scrambled, my body moving before my brain caught up. Knees on the mattress, ass in the air, head down. The position she liked—presented, exposed, available. Morning light cut through the blinds, painting gold stripes across the ruined sheets.
Stephanie stood beside the bed, naked, the riding crop in her hand. She looked rested, sharp, energized. I looked like something that had been dragged behind a truck. My jaw was sore, my cock raw, my skin a constellation of bite marks and bruises.
“Look at you,” she said, and I couldn’t tell if it was disgust or admiration. Maybe both. “You’re a mess.”
“Yes.”
“Whose mess?”
“Yours.”
Another crack of the crop, harder this time. I flinched, my ass burning. “Damn right.” She circled the bed slowly, trailing the crop across my back, my thighs, my ass. “You came without permission last night. I told you I’d punish you.”
“I remember.”
“Tell me what you did wrong.”
“I came inside you without your permission.”
“And?”
“And I should have controlled myself. I should have asked. I should have—”
“You should have been better.” The crop came down three times in quick succession—left cheek, right cheek, the back of my thigh. I gasped, gripping the sheets, my cock already hardening despite the pain. Or because of it. With Stephanie, the line had blurred so long ago I couldn’t tell anymore.
“You’re hard,” she observed, walking around to face me. She lifted my chin with the crop, forcing me to look up at her. “Pathetic. I’m punishing you and your little dick is excited.”
“I can’t help it.”
“I know you can’t. That’s the problem.” She crouched in front of me, her face inches from mine. “You’re weak. You’re small. You can’t last, can’t control yourself, can’t satisfy me without me doing all the work. And yet—” She grabbed my cock, squeezing hard enough to make me wince. “—this stupid thing gets hard every time I touch you. Every time I hurt you.”
“Yes.”
She released me, standing abruptly. “On your back.”
I rolled over, my cock jutting up, small and eager and ridiculous against my body. She looked at it with that expression—the one that made me want to disappear—then straddled my chest, facing away from me, her ass inches from my face.
“Hold my hips. Don’t move.”
I gripped her hips. She leaned forward, and I watched her pussy—still pink and swollen from last night—lower toward my mouth. When she made contact, I licked, long and slow, tasting her, tasting myself, tasting the night we’d spent. She ground against me, her ass pressing against my nose, and I worked my tongue inside her, fucking her with it, sloppy and desperate.
She reached back and grabbed my cock, stroking it lazily while I ate her. The contrast was maddening—her hand barely moving, just enough to keep me on edge, while my tongue worked frantically, trying to earn something. Permission, maybe. Or just the sound of her pleasure.
“You want to cum?” she asked, her voice casual, like she was asking about the weather.
“Please.”
“Too bad.” She let go of my cock entirely, and I whimpered into her pussy, the vibration making her shudder. “You don’t get to cum today. Maybe not tomorrow. Maybe not until I decide you’ve earned it.”
She rode my face to two more orgasms, each one leaving me drenched, my jaw screaming, my cock aching and untouched. When she finally climbed off, she didn’t look at me—just walked to the bathroom, her ass swaying, and I heard the shower start.
I lay there, destroyed, denied, covered in her, and harder than I’d ever been in my life.
—
The shower ran for twenty minutes. I didn’t move. I stayed on my back, staring at the ceiling, my cock twitching occasionally, my mind cycling through the night and the morning in a loop. The bite marks throbbed. My ass burned. My jaw ached. Everything ached.
When she came out, she was dry, her hair pulled back, wearing a thin robe that barely covered her. She looked at me on the bed and raised an eyebrow.
“Still lying there? Get up. Make me breakfast.”
I rose on unsteady legs, my cock bobbing, and shuffled toward the kitchen. She smacked my ass as I passed—hard, casual, like swatting a fly.
“Eggs. Toast. Coffee. And—” She grabbed my arm, pulling me close, her mouth near my ear. “—if you touch that pathetic little cock while you’re cooking, I’ll know. And it’ll be a week instead of a day.”
“I understand.”
“Good boy.”
She released me, and I walked to the kitchen, naked, marked, denied, and so in love I could barely breathe.
I cracked eggs into a pan and tried not to think about my cock. Tried not to think about her mouth, her hands, her pussy, her crop. Tried to focus on the eggs, the toast, the coffee—simple tasks, grounded, real.
But when she came into the kitchen, sat at the table, crossed her legs, and watched me with that look—that look—I knew this was the real punishment. Not the crop, not the denial, not the words. This. Standing in front of her, serving her, wanting her, being completely, utterly hers, and knowing that was exactly where I belonged.
“Sit down,” she said when I set the plate in front of her. “Across from me.”
I sat. She ate slowly, deliberately, watching me the whole time. I wasn’t allowed to eat. I just sat there, my hands on the table, my cock hard and leaking against my thigh, and watched her chew.
“You look hungry,” she said.
“I am.”
She cut a piece of egg, held it up, and leaned across the table. “Open.”
I opened my mouth. She placed the egg on my tongue, her fingers brushing my lips, and I closed my mouth and chewed, the taste of her skin mixing with the food.
“Good,” she said softly. “Now clean up. Then come back to bed.”
I stood, my legs trembling. “For what?”
She smiled—that slow, dangerous smile. “I’m not done with you yet.”
I turned toward the sink, and she was right—I could feel it in the air, in the weight of her gaze on my back, in the low hum of anticipation building in my chest.
She was never done with me.
And I never wanted her to be.
The End.
*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.