Read Domination Sex: Conditioned Response Online

Authors: Erika Masten

Tags: #sex toys, #romantic erotica, #bdsm, #domination, #submission, #submissive, #anal sex, #sodomy, #domination and submission, #dominant, #teasing, #maledom, #explicit erotica, #domination sex, #domination erotica, #forced nudity

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BOOK: Domination Sex: Conditioned Response
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I fall back against my pillow, ready
to cry, more upset by a dream than…than by my breakup with Robert.
It’s a peculiar realization, that I’m more upset by a dream about
losing Jay than I am about actually losing Robert. After my
encounter with the former, I didn’t think of the latter once all
evening.

The dream that takes me in the early
morning hours is different. I never made that phone call telling
Jay our weekend together had been a mistake. We’re living together,
getting ready to go to one of Julie’s parties. I’m in the bathroom
putting on my makeup as he finishes showering. The room is warm and
steamy and smells of soap and mandarin and amber.

Still dripping wet, he puts his arms
around me from behind. I don’t complain about him getting my dress
wet or making us late. Instead, I revel in his touch, rub against
him, lay my head back on his shoulder. I spread my legs and grind
my ass against his thick, erect cock, as his hands knead my tits
and slide under my clothes to probe my cunt. He takes me against
the counter, panting and grunting and growling, before coming deep
inside me. In the mirror, I can see I’m wearing a leather collar,
the same color as his tie. He reaches around me and grips it and
fucks me harder, his cock still rigid, still filling me to
overflowing with his cum.

The fucking alarm wakes me just before
I can reach my climax, leaving my clit throbbing angrily. I slap
the snooze button and stare up at the ceiling and listen to my own
heavy breathing. That fear of giving myself completely to Jay is
still there, a gnarled dread seated in the pit of my stomach. But
now it’s slightly smaller than my fear of not having him, not
belonging with him…not belonging to him.

Following Jay’s instructions
meticulously, I take my time getting showered and dressed and
making myself bacon and eggs. I eat slowly, with deliberation,
mentally retracing the route along the highway and through that
little bedroom town on the way to the country house. I’m there,
with my overnight bag and a meager façade of calm, and without a
single wrong turn, by mid-morning.

My car rolls to a stop on the gravel
drive before the white bungalow with its slate blue trim, wide
porch with requisite swing, flowering vines snaking up the eaves. I
take a couple of deep breathes before I get out, my heart pounding
in my throat, my ears, my cunt. My heels crunch and skid along the
small, broken stones as I pick my way with careful steps toward the
house. Before I’ve reached the porch, Jay is leaning in the open
door wearing a pair of snug jeans, a black polo, and a big smile.
My stomach bobs inside me at the sight of him. It’s impossible not
to smile back, as silly and girlish as it feels.

Instead of saying hello, Jay kisses
me, full and open-mouthed. It’s a pretty good indication he’s glad
I showed up. He brings me inside, drops my bag by the couch, and
closes the door.

For a moment, he stands in front of
me, still smiling, his forehead bent to mine. “Are you ready for
this?” he asks.

My jaw drops open, and my hands grip
desperately at his shirt. “What? You don’t mean… I mean, I just got
here. Right now?”

Jay takes my chin in his fingers.
“Emma, stop,” he mutters, soft and deep. “You being here is
supposed to mean you trust me. So trust me, and just answer my
question. Are you ready for this?”

“No, but I can’t help myself. I can’t
stay away from you,” I blurt and then wish I could take it
back.

His little grin at my response leaves
me blinking, not certain if I should be relieved or more nervous.
“In that case,” he says and goes to sit on the couch, “take your
clothes off.”

My urge to repeat the conversation
from just seconds before—you don’t mean…I mean…right now?—swells in
my chest, but I swallow it down. Trust, Emma.

Still, it’s not easy, stripping down
with Jay watching me, even if he has seen me naked before. This is
different…more raw…more immediate. It feels lewd, exposing, even a
touch humiliating to unzip my dress and step out of it while he
relaxes on the sofa and watches like my whole purpose is to put on
a show for him.

A show he’s enjoying. By
the time I’ve shrugged off my lacey white bra, peeled off my wet
panties, and stepped out of my pretty white sandals, the bulge in
the front of his jeans is huge. The denim hugs his groin, outlining
the shape of his engorged cock perfectly. Fuck, I’m actually
salivating, recalling the slight saltiness of his dick in my mouth.
My pussy aches like it’s already being stretched by that thick rod.
Then the thought…how the hell am I going to take
that
up my
ass?

Jay holds his arms out. “Come here.”
I’m only too glad to curl up against his chest, almost like I’m
trying to hide my nudity from him by burrowing against
him.

After he holds me for a few minutes, I
sigh against his neck. “Silly of me, acting this way.”

“No,” he whispers. “It’s normal for
the…extraordinary circumstances. You’re scared about what’s going
to happen to you. You’re afraid I’ll hurt you, physically and
emotionally. You’re excited.” One of his hands slips between my
legs, petting my wet red curls and making me jump, then cling to
him. “And aroused,” he adds. “And I make matters worse by insisting
on you being naked for me all weekend.”

My fingers curl around Jay’s
shoulders, fingernails digging in. “All weekend?”

“Yep,” he says, wearing too broad a
grin, like a little boy who is convinced he’s getting the whole
cookie jar instead of just one cookie. “But you’ll get used to
being naked for me.” Without warning, he pushes two fingers between
the slick lips of my slit and feels for that special spot inside,
hitting it without error. “You’ll have more than nudity to worry
about, love. There will be no comfort zone when I’m
done.”

I convulse in Jay’s arms, unprepared
for the sudden pleasure of him stroking my g-spot. He’s a master,
and I’m his instrument, arching and wailing. My thighs tense and
strain, spreading wide without me thinking about it.

“That’s it,” he says, working his
fingers furiously in my quivering cunt. “Come for me, Emma. It’s
been too long since I saw you in ecstasy.”

With that deep, dirty voice vibrating
through me already, the mere caress of his thumb against my clit
hurls me into the buffeting waves of a quick, hard orgasm. No hope
of bracing myself. I pant and buck and squirm, as his fingers keep
strumming me, pumping me, and he watches with wicked
delight.

The climax twists me and grips me,
then drapes me weak across Jay’s lap again just as suddenly. I
shudder when he wedges a third finger into me, but he has at least
stopped stroking my pleasure spots, graciously allowing me some
semblance of coherent thought and my ability to breathe. He rocks
his fingers inside me, like he’s getting me ready for his cock, or
like he’s just enjoying feeling my tight cunt clenching around his
hand.

He lays light, feathery kisses on my
cheek and jaw and the corner of my open, panting mouth. “You’re
still stunning when you come. You have no idea how beautiful,” he
murmurs against my temple, before kissing it.

Sighing, I secretly acknowledge how
much I adore hearing him talk this way, like I’m precious to him,
like…like he loves me. Tentatively, I shift against him, grinding
against his hard-on and making him groan at the back of his throat.
The fingers between my legs withdraw abruptly, leaving me
bereft.

“Up, Emma,” he commands, urging me to
stand, steadying me when I find my limbs are still shaky from the
sudden release of my orgasm.

I tense, as much as I can with weak
knees and residual sparks of bliss coursing through my pussy and
stomach and up my spine. Is this it? Is he taking me to the bedroom
for his formal acceptance of my “surrender”?

Jay leads me down the hall by the
hand, the smooth hardwood of the floor cool under my bare feet. I
experience everything in extremes, like he has turned up the volume
on my senses. The creak of the floor, the hiss of my quickened
breathing, the warmth of his hand, the strong sweetness to the
scent of the roses we pass in a glass vase on the hallway table, my
heart thumping against the inside of my chest, my wetness seeping
from my slit. When we enter his bedroom, and thick blue carpeting
takes the place of the wood, I feel the urge to dig in my heels, to
plead for more time. Instead, I follow obediently, holding my
breath.

We linger beside his king-sized bed,
and Jay lowers his mouth to mine again. I only realize how turned
on he is when he pulls my hair and grabs one of my thighs, to curl
my leg around his hip and open my pussy. He wedges his bulging
hard-on against my wet cunt lips and rocks against me, while
sucking and nipping at my tongue. I grind against him in return,
until he untangles himself from me with a reluctant
groan.

“Kneel on the bed,” he tells me, but I
can’t make myself move. Gnawing at my lower lip, I glance back and
forth from Jay to the bed to Jay, until he nudges me to comply. He
stands immediately behind me, arms around my waist. “Breathe, Emma.
Remember I told you I would take your ass when you begged me to,
and I meant it. Only when you beg.” As though reading my thoughts,
he adds, “You will.”

I peer over my shoulder at him,
relaxing little by little at the reassurance that I still have some
more time to get used to this idea. He rubs my shoulders and my
arms and along my spine, giving me warm shivers that melt me from
the inside, before finally pushing at the back of my neck and
urging me down onto my hands and knees. Confused, I settle on all
fours, on the silky Egyptian cotton sheets. He said he wouldn’t
take me before I begged him, and I believe him. So now
what?

Again, I watch from over my shoulder
as Jay opens a drawer in his nightstand and brings out a small tube
and a metallic butt plug. I immediately start to whine and tense,
which earns me a slow caress along one cheek of my ass, followed by
a hard smack.

“I also said I’d push your limits,” he
reminds, as he takes a bit of clear gel from the tube and smears it
along his fingers, working the goo for a few seconds. It’s not
nearly as cold as I’d feared, warmed by his skin, when it touches
my twitchy, nervous little bud. I could almost relax into the
feeling of the slippery lube being massaged around my asshole, and
I close my eyes and focus on calming my breath.

The tip of the plug nosing into my ass
makes my eyes flare open and wide, and I lean away.

“No, no,” Jay chastises and grips me
by one shoulder to pull me back and hold me still. The plug has a
cone shape at the end, tapering above a crosspiece a couple of
inches long. The design makes it perfect for wedging open my tight
ring, invading me deeper and deeper, stretching my hole wider and
wider. It didn’t look that big, but every time I’m sure I’ve taken
all of it, there’s a little more, a little more.

It doesn’t help that Jay is turning it
in little circles that make me want to squirm my hips. He pulls it
out just a bit, wiggles it back in, turns it, wiggles it out. I
give up my brave front and whine and pant, hanging my head and
clawing at the sheets.

Then it’s inside me. I feel my tender
asshole close over the plug, where it tapers. The sharp, stretching
gives way to a sense of wanting to push out the butt plug while at
the same time wanting to pull it in deeper.

“Good girl,” Jay coos, his thumb
toying with the crosspiece, making the plug wiggle inside me. As I
whine my protest, his other hand moves between my spread legs to
tickle my flushed pussy lips and then my aching clit. When my
tingling nub twitches at his touch, so does my anus, around the
embedded plug.

“No,” I keen. No, this is too strange.
No, I don’t…don’t want to like this.

He draws me back, so that I’m on my
knees, leaning against his chest. His hard-on, pressed between my
ass cheeks, pushes against the plug, while he reaches around with
both hands to play with my needy pussy. “I’m not going to take no
as a no, Emma. It’s something you’re going to need to say a lot
this weekend as you fight yourself over what you really want. If
you truly want me to stop, you have to use the safeword red. Say no
all you want. Beg me to stop if you need to. Tell me you don’t want
this, if it helps. But I will only relent if you use the safeword.
Do you understand?”

“Yes,” I rasp, horrified by my
realization that I do want to beg and protest and plead with him to
stop. But I don’t want to use the safeword. Because I don’t really
want him to stop, yet.

“Good,” he breathes into my ear, and
both of his hands go to work ruthlessly prodding and stroking and
pinching at my pussy and my clit. I slide my hands over his and
look down at his wet fingers. Even more than the sight of Jay’s
hands working at my cunt, even more than the feeling of his fingers
exploring and penetrating and toying with me, the sound of his
heavy breathing in my ear inflames me.

One hand leaves my slit and pulls at
one cheek of my ass, spreading me so Jay’s hard-on can press more
firmly, more deeply, against the butt plug. He bounces his hips,
not fucking me but making the plug do it. At that exact moment, he
begins making tight, furious circles over and around my clit with
the pads of two fingers.

BOOK: Domination Sex: Conditioned Response
4.45Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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