This story evolved over the last week or so. It was initially inspired by last week's irresistible Masturbation Monday prompt, but I had trouble getting my muse to cooperate. Then I saw this week's Wicked Wednesday "Ritual" prompt and the story went in a slightly different direction.
It may also be a bit of a response to a rather critical comment someone made about a teaser I used for my story "Elevator Confidential," which was just released in Chemical [se]X 2: Just One More. The person called it "bossy and vulgar." I really can't argue with the vulgar part, but then I get off on vulgar.
However, as is the nature of teasers, the line was taken out of context and seen in the worst possible light. There is a big difference between dominance and being bossy. One is hot; one is not. One inspires submission; the other makes you want to slap the person silly. Anyway, I hope this story addresses that a little.
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Hope you enjoy,
Warning: Really vulgar language, domination/submission, dirty talk, name calling, and come-play.
Only for You
By Ria Restrepo
Copyright ©2019. All rights reserved.
"What are you doing?"
Putting down the lip gloss I was using, I looked at him in the dresser mirror. "Getting ready for the barbecue."
"Aren't you forgetting something?"
His tone immediately alerted me to his mood—that firmer, more dominant voice that called to the eager submissive slut in me. But only for him.
As the ever-smoldering desire flared to life low in my abdomen, I turned to face him. He stood there in a T-shirt and faded jeans, leaning back against the doorjamb, his arms folded over his chest, and mischief glimmering in his eyes.
I knew exactly what he was referring to, but couldn't quite believe it. "I thought you meant when we were around strangers."
He shrugged a shoulder. "I said the next time we were in public. This is it."
This was my punishment for teasing him with naughty pictures while he was at work. Not that wearing his come was ever a hardship. I actually reveled in it—being a filthy little come whore. Only for him.
"Are you sure?" I licked my lips. "Just about everyone you know will be there."
His distracting mouth slowly curved into a wicked grin. "Are you refusing?"
The challenge was clear. If I refused, he'd surely invent something even more fiendish as retribution for making him hard during an important meeting. Although I was curious what the worse option would be, I rarely yielded when he threw down the gauntlet. And he knew it too.
Meeting his gaze, I said what we both knew I'd say. "No, sir."
Adopting a sterner demeanor, he straightened and crooked his finger at me. "Come here."
In any other context, an imperious command like that would have set my teeth on edge. But in that moment, it sent a wildfire of need racing through my blood. Only for him.
As I walked towards him, I pealed off the respectable floral-print dress I'd planned to wear and tossed it onto the bed.
His heated gaze roved over my body, taking in the white lace bra and thong clinging to my curves, then focused on my barely covered tits. "Lose the fucking bra."
From anyone else, that rude order would have earned a sharp retort. Coming from him, though, it made me grin, because I knew how much he loved my tits. So I happily complied. Only for him.
Standing in front of him, I reached back, unfastened my bra, and flung it onto the floor.
He couldn't miss my already taut nipples and I relished the ardent appreciation flaring in his blue eyes.
For a moment, I savored the electric tension arching in the air between, my excitement mounting by the second.
Then I did what I longed to do the moment he asked me if I'd forgotten my punishment. I knelt at his feet, willingly submitting to the only man who'd ever really made my submissive slut soul sing. The only man I'd ever truly loved. After so long, I'd finally surrendered my body and my heart. Only for him.
I ran my hands up his legs, enjoying the feel of his firm thighs beneath the soft denim. When I got to his groin, I felt his obvious erection through the material and traced his length with my fingers.
Biting my lip, I looked up to see him staring down at me.
"No more teasing, naughty girl."
Since I was just as eager, I unfastened his fly and freed him from the tight confines of his jeans. His dick was thick and hard—and perfect, because it was his. I honestly loved worshiping his cock.
I'd made a ritual of giving him pleasure. Not because he demanded it. Because I craved the feel of his hot length gliding past my lips and filling my mouth. Because I savored the slightly salty taste of him on my tongue. Because every time I took him so deep his pubic hair tickled my nose, the musky scent of him was intoxicating. And because I cherished the sounds of enjoyment he made and the dirty appreciative comments he bestowed on me.
Moments like this were transformative. He gave me the freedom to shed the oppressive good-girl façade I'd worn my entire life. I became the wanton fuck slut I'd always fantasized about being. Only for him.
I licked up his shaft from base to tip, pausing to tease the sensitive spot beneath the head before taking him in my mouth. Delighting in his low groan, I moved down his length until he nudged the back of my throat. My lips dragged along his warm skin and my tongue massaged the underside when I traveled back up.
As I established a slow, steady sucking rhythm, he slid his fingers into my hair and fisted it just the way I loved. His grip was tight enough to make me moan in pleasure around his cock. My cunt had been getting progressively wetter, but this display of his control made my inner muscles tighten deliciously and a fresh wave of cunt cream flood my sex.
Releasing his cock from my mouth, I wrapped my hand around his slick shaft and began stroking him as I nuzzled my face against the warm weight of his balls. I adored them as much as I did the rest of him.
Looking up at him, I gave one a kiss before taking it in my mouth and softly sucking it.
His eyes were heavy-lidded and he was breathing hard. "I'm going to come all over your big slut tits."
Murmuring my assent, I longed to press my thighs together to ease some of the aching need in my cunt, but I knew he wouldn't want that. He'd want me good and horny all night long until he decided to give me some relief. I'd learned that prolonging my pleasure made me come all the harder. Only for him.
"Fuck!" He took over stroking his cock and I reluctantly relinquished my prize.
Sitting back on my heels, I tilted my head back, giving him the perfect target for his release. I heard the wet slapping of him jerking his cock hard and fast. Then he grunted and I felt a warm rope of thick come fall across my upper chest.
Several more grunts and shots followed until I was covered in his spunk. I reveled in every wet, sticky line crisscrossing my flesh. It wasn't demeaning or humiliating. It was liberating. I was the perfect little come whore. Only for him.
When I looked down at myself, I almost came from just the sight of his pearly seed glistening on my skin. I was about to smear it all over my tits, rub it into my nipples, like I so often did, but he stopped me.
"No, leave it like that."
I looked at him questioningly. He normally loved watching me play with his come, so I was confused by this sudden change. But I obeyed, because I figured he must have something specific in mind.
He smirked as he tucked himself back in his jeans. "You can stand. But, otherwise, stay just as you are."
Again, I did as I was told, curious about where this was going.
Then he disappeared into the closet and returned with a sky-blue sundress I knew very well.
"Wear this. No bra." He handed it to me. "No hiding my come under clothing."
I took it and glanced down at the low-cut dress with thin spaghetti straps. "But everyone will notice. Someone is bound to say something. How am I supposed to explain it?"
Looking up, I saw his wide grin. "I can't wait to hear what you come up with."
The evil man was putting me in an awkward position. Just like I'd done to him. So I couldn't exactly be annoyed about him giving me some of my own medicine. I'd take my punishment and brazen it out. Only for him.
Much later that evening, we lay in bed, both gloriously exhausted after a vigorous fuck that culminated a long evening of taunting and teasing. He was curled around me from behind, his sated cock nestled between my ass cheeks. His dried come still coated my chest and was now a slick mess between my thighs—which I thoroughly enjoyed.
"Do you think they bought that line about it being streaky sunscreen?"
I felt his lips curve into a smile against my shoulder as his body vibrated with mirth. "I doubt it. But it was a clever excuse."
"Surprisingly, I wasn't embarrassed at all."
"It was rather thrilling—all those people seeing your come marking me, whether they realized it or not. And imagining they did made it all the hotter. That they knew I was your filthy little come slut."
His arm tightened around my chest and he kissed my neck. "Yes, all mine."
Humming with pleasure, I snuggled my ass against his groin.
He yawned. "I'm actually amazed you went through with it."
Before drifting off into a satisfied sleep, I said, "Only for you."