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Former Good Girl


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Teased, edged and owned by her lover with only a remote control vibrator.

The insistent buzz of the toy accelerated, tearing through my pussy and taking my breath away. I writhed against the bonds, knees scissoring, knots forming inside my belly like those that secured my wrists behind the wooden chair. I squeezed my thighs together in an attempt to dull the ache that had threatened to rip me in two for what seemed like hours. Rope bit into my ankles as I twisted against the chair legs.

He eased off the throttle. I could see him in my mind's eye, somewhere in the hotel suite beyond the blindfold and discarded evening dress, delighting at my predicament. His gaze wandering my curves, remaining black negligee contrasting the milky white of delicately perfumed skin. Perhaps leaning against the four-poster in that tailored Hugo Boss suit, tie loosened around his neck below prickly stubble that left rashes where good girls shouldn't have them.

I was a good girl.

Once.

Before I allowed myself to be seduced by his chiselled avatar. His words. His manner. Led astray from my inattentive husband; passing ships and separate beds. Familiar, safe, yet unfulfilling. Weekends play-acting the marriage charade bookended work travel, staying in hotels that featured intense, magical, breathless, sleep-deprived nights with him.

Sir.

My pussy walls tingled, the frequency of the purple toy increasing once more. Creeping faster in sync with his finger sliding up his phone screen. Teasing. The urge to pee grew again and I clamped my thighs shut around the device that delivered so much delicious torture. The buzz spiked and spasms gripped my abdomen as if I'd been electrocuted, my bottom arching off the seat as far as the bonds allowed.

Fear gripped me. What if I came? What would he do to me then? I fought with every ounce of remaining strength. Squeezed my eyes shut behind the mask until the insistent scratching inside my dripping channel dissipated, reduced to a low throb.

I thought I'd been clever, mind over matter, but he'd reduced the power. Bastard. Knew I was close, playing me like his private orchestra. I strained against my bindings, longing to touch myself. To ease the insane need that fluttered, eddied and clutched every fibre of my twitching body.

In the darkness, all I had were thoughts driven by the pulsing phallus. Flashes of strong hands and fabulous cock stretching my mouth, pussy, and tight arse. Desire and forbidden pleasure explored as I obeyed without question. His plaything. Malleable. Subservient. Soaked.

The device sped up, making me wriggle, accelerating towards orgasm.

Slowed, making me groan.

Rhythmically changed pace: fast, slow, faster, until I didn't know where my body ended and the room began.

God, I wanted to come. Drool formed in my mouth and I tried to articulate Please but my balled up panties prevented the desperation from escaping with any coherency.

"What's that?" His tone was cocky, gravelly. I shivered. Something about the resonance in his baritone made me drip.

"Pfeeeash!"

"Oh. You need to come?"

I nodded hard. Wanted to bore my liquid brown eyes into his so he could see the desire burning behind them. See the consequences of what he did to me.

A fruitless wish. He always knew. Always in control. Even when he let me ride his face, grinding in manic, insistent circles against his ravenous mouth until I spilled over for him to drink, he was in control.

His measured voice delivered the verdict. "Not yet."

Almost immediately the upsurge began again in my quivering tunnel. I gasped behind the impromptu gag. The scent of my juices drifted, whether from the garment in my mouth or from source I couldn't tell. I smelled desperate. Horny. At my limit. Yet I knew he'd push me beyond. To places I longed to know.

The pressure increased, vibrator curved perfectly inside to excite the front wall of my aching pussy, its external node jammed against my tender clit. My body convulsed as I tried to simultaneously escape the pain and embrace it.

Concentric hoops of fire radiated from my core, arcing up to my erect nipples, tugged free of their lacy confines for his salacious gaze. The tips tingled, felt ready to burst from my dark areolas, kept attached only by the clamps joined with the swinging metal chain.

A sustained, muffled moan filled the room and I barely registered it was me. I was out of my body, looking down on the twisting, seizing marionette of limbs under his complete command.

The vibrations ceased and I screamed in frustration, stamping, head lolling like I'd been deflated. My body continued to jerk of its own accord, echoes of my almost-crescendo replaying inside my drenched cunt against the silicone invader. I swear I saw colours inside the blindfold.

The buzz returned, full power and I howled Please as best I could, on the brink, arching manically against the restraints, presenting myself as shockwaves built from the epicentre buried deep.

He breathed once. Taut. "You may come."

Relief flooded me and I groaned through the gag, the vibrations owning my body as I let rippling, white-hot heat sear my skin. The orgasm tore through me, mind tumbling, nothing connected, respite from the tormenting ache the only constant.

He slowed the device and my body slumped likewise as the exquisite high soared and looped and bubbled through my quivering frame. He let me bask. Watching. His pleasure rising as mine flowed and ebbed.

Senses piqued, I detected a shuffle. A swish of clothes. Then his fingers pried open my mouth and yanked out the gag as I gasped in fresh oxygen. I heard his zipper, and moments later the dull tip of his raging erection at my lips as he pulled me forward by my throat. He paused, hot and dangerous and exciting.

"Suck."

As he took my air and filled me with every inch of his thick meat, I glowed inside.

Then set about showing him just how bad this former good girl could be.

 

 

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