Geoffrey's Rules (15 page)

Geoffrey King was going to have his way with me.

He emerged from the bathroom in a black bathrobe. I gasped softly for complex reasons—above all because so many of my fantasies featured men in similar robes, such robes being terribly convenient for the fucking of submissive girls. Also, though, I gasped because he looked every inch the dominant and the owner of the kind of firm hand girls like me needed.

“Stand up, Chloe,” he said.

I stood.

“Turn to face the headboard.”

I obeyed, and he came up behind me. His left hand reached up and took my neck into its grasp just below my chin. His hold was very light, but I trembled all over just the same.

“Shh… Relax, little Chloe. This is what being my possession is all about.”

“Yes, sir,” I whispered. Then his right hand… his right hand came around my waist and held me firmly. That is, it held me firmly there; it held my pussy, through the dress and through the lace. It held the pussy I had shaved for him.

He kissed my right cheek fiercely. I tried to turn my face that way, but he held my chin fast and kissed my neck. Slowly, he began to draw the silky, ruched fabric of the red dress up my thighs, using his fingertips to pull gently and then to gather the raised fabric so that his fingers rubbed the spot where my clitoris lay hidden with every motion, and I thought I was going to faint.

At last, the hem of the dress came into his fingers’ grasp, and the lace of the front of the thong and my suspenders and stocking-tops all were revealed. Suddenly accelerating matters, Geoffrey worked his fingers from the top of my right thigh into the panties and began to caress my vulva ferociously. My body seemed to spasm completely out of control as I moaned and cried out under his hands. My knees buckled and for an instant I didn’t know whether I was falling or floating, as Geoffrey caught me effortlessly against his own sturdy frame.

His fingers tormented me for a few more seconds as my moans rose in pitch, and I began to relax into his hands’ possession of me, but then he stopped and stood me gently on my feet, saying, “It’s time to take this lovely dress off, I think.” He undid the little hook and lowered the zipper expertly. Then, he unhooked my bra. I shrugged my arms out of the straps, and it all fell to the floor, and I was once again just in garter belt, stockings, and panties.

Geoffrey gathered up the dress and bra and laid them neatly on a chair. Then he turned back to me with a fierce look in his eyes. “On the bed, now. Kneeling, with your face toward the headboard.” The trembling was getting worse, but Geoffrey seemed not to be interested in comforting me; the thought that my master was now only looking for one thing increased both my trembling and the arousal flowing into my panties.

I knelt on his bed. “Now, bend over, Chloe. I’m sure you know the position I want. Your cheek on the bedspread, your bottom in the air with your knees spread.”

Indeed, I did know that position. It had lived in my imagination, off by itself in a secluded realm of fantasy, always there for my naughtiest moments of self-pleasuring, for years and years. I had, blushing furiously, sometimes even practiced it in my bed, alone. I seemed to come with more urgency when I arrayed myself as for my imaginary master, presenting to him my backside, still in my panties, and pretended that my hands were his, pushing into me from behind, pulling the fabric of my underwear away to take his pleasure there.

I lowered my upper body to the lovely green cotton comforter cover and laid my right cheek upon it. I spread my knees, and I arched my back so that Geoffrey would be able to see what he wanted to see, feeling as I did so that the bottom I was presenting was his plaything. He got up behind me on the bed. I felt a finger run down the little strip of lace at the back of the thong—the one that went in between my bottom cheeks. Then another finger reached under and ran the same course from the front. Very, very gently, my master began to work my pussy with his fingers as I made little puppy noises, and he murmured, “Good girl. Good girl. Get yourself ready for me now. Chloe’s going to get a fucking now.”

Then he was pulling the lace aside and kissing there, and I couldn’t suppress a scream of pleasure as his tongue flicked against my clitoris. With his fingers, he entered where his cock would soon go, opening me so that I felt like I would die if he didn’t make me his, fully, right away. Then at last he was kneeling behind me, and I felt him pressing with his cock, softly.

I whimpered, and he said, “Shh. It’s time, sweet girl. You’re mine, now,” and he was moving inside me. His hands were around my waist, and he thrust with an easy rhythm. He spoke, quietly and wickedly, “Such a nice little cunt. So nice and tight. You’re a good girl, Chloe, but tonight you’re my slut, aren’t you?”

He began to move faster and faster. His cock was larger than any I had ever had inside me, and I felt stretched and dominated by it—and him—to a degree I had never imagined I could actually feel. Suddenly, I imagined him in my bottom, stretching my anus, and the thought drove me nearly wild with longing and anxiety. He was going to, wasn’t he? He had hinted at it so many times.

Geoffrey was pounding my bottom now, grunting as he drove into me and made me wail with the excess of pleasure and the discomfort of his hard riding. With a shout that sounded like he had won a victory in some ancient arena, he held himself deep into me, and I felt him coming at last, the muscles of his hips moving in great jerks against my backside as, inside me, his cock pulsed and bestowed on me his essence—while I thanked heaven for my IUD. The shout gave way to little murmurs of subsiding pleasure as he stroked and patted my back, my hip, my thighs.

I felt contentment—maybe more contentment than I had ever felt in my life to that point. I had pleased my master.

Afterward, we lay together under his covers, looking at each other’s faces and kissing, and then looking some more.

“Sir?” I asked.

“Yes, sweetheart?” Geoffrey replied.

“Is it okay that… that this is so vanilla? I mean, us lying here in bed together? Like… um… lovers?”

He chuckled. “Yes, Chloe—it’s much more than okay. What’s rule one?”

“You get your way.”

“Do I seem to be getting my way?”

“Yes, sir.”

He pulled back the covers for a moment. “Are you wearing the white lace I put you in?”

I looked down at my body, still clad in the lovely, submissive lingerie. He had a point.

“And if I were to tell you to get up and look in the second drawer down in the dresser and put on what you find there, with nothing under it, would you do it?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Please do so, and then come back here.”

It was a white nightgown of lovely thin cotton with, of course, beautiful lace trim. It came down just past my knees. As I got out of the lingerie and put on the nightgown, I watched Geoffrey watch me change. He was smiling slightly, and the smile made me feel weak with desire for him and for his way.

The nightgown itself, over my bare bottom and my bare pussy and my bare breasts, made me feel embarrassed and reminded me again of what Geoffrey had said about shame. I blushed as I came back to his bed, and then he made me blush even more because his right hand instantly made its way up the nightgown to take hold of and to fondle all the parts of me that particularly belonged to him.

“Do you like your nightgown, Chloe?”

“Yes, sir. Only…”

“Only what?”

“Only I probably shouldn’t wear it when I’m not here with you.”

“Why?”

“I think I would have a very hard time with rule four.”

He laughed, and then he brought his right hand down hard on my bottom. “Naughty girl.”

“Ow!” I said. “Is that what I get for confessing?”

He spanked again. “No, that’s what you get because I love you.”

I gasped a bit and looked into his eyes, where I saw that he meant it. “Oh, Geoffrey. I love you too.”

He kissed me, vanilla, and spanked me, non-vanilla, and then he just held me tightly for a while.

We fell asleep, eventually, though of course not that way, because it’s impossible to sleep that way in real life. As I drifted off, I wondered about what lay behind the nightgown, which despite its shortness was really quite demure. I felt a little shiver go through me as one particular possibility slipped into the edge of my consciousness.

And then I was being awoken gently by Geoffrey. I was on my left side, facing away from him, and he was spooning me and had started to run his right hand over my legs and up under the short nightgown. He took my left breast in his hand and cupped it and played with the nipple with his thumb.

“Mmm…” I said. “Sleepy.”

“I know, sweetheart,” Geoffrey said, “but you’re going to wake up now.”

“Mmm… um… why?”

“My way.”

“Oh…”

He was turning me onto my tummy and with increasing firmness rearranging my legs, until I was back in the submissive’s bottom-up position. He put a big, firm pillow under my hips. Through it all, I tried not to resist, but his actions were so peremptory, and I was so sleepy that he had to use a little force to get me where he wanted me.

“Geoffrey!” I said, beginning to wake up to an amazing complexity of emotion, which included a startling degree of arousal for having come out of sleep at what I could see from the bedside clock was 2:30 a.m. Something about the manner in which he was enforcing his way was sending erotic energy straight to my molten core.

“Hush, Chloe,” he said and raised the little nightgown to expose my bottom.

“Wait,” I said. “Just…”

“No, sweetheart.”

I heard something snap open, like the top of a plastic bottle, and then a moment later I felt his fingers, with something slippery—lube, I realized, with a blush—on them, inside the valley of my bottom, on my anus.

“Oh, wait… please, Geoffrey.” Yes, but no… and I needed time.

“No, Chloe. My way.”

“But…”

“I’ll be gentle, sweetheart, but I need to have your bottom right now.” He crouched behind me, his feet on either side of my knees. “You just look too sweet in that virginal nightgown. And you have one virginity left, and I’m going to take it right now.”

“Oh my God…” I wailed. His cock was there, pressing.

“Shh. You can do this. Push down and open up. Your body knows how.”

“Oh, no… please… not yet…”

“Yes, Chloe. Now. Naughty girls like you need to learn how to please their masters this way.”

I sobbed in shame and frustration, but he pressed harder with his enormous cock. I tensed against him, but he just put on a little more lube.

I had been breathing in little gasps, but now I tried to even my panting, and I began to feel my body relax.

“Good girl,” Geoffrey said.

Those words let me concentrate for a moment, through the discomfort, and gave me a little mental space to push and finally to open. Then, suddenly, Geoffrey’s cock was inside at last, and I was crying out at the pain of it.

“There we go,” he said. “Oh, that’s so nice and tight.” The burning from the stretching, from the little bit of remaining friction that the lube didn’t take care of, was what flooded through my senses at first. Geoffrey was being gentle, I supposed—it didn’t feel like some of the anal porn looked—but I could do nothing but submit and whimper.

It took a while to even notice the fullness, but when I did notice it, along with it came a stimulation of some place on my other side, in front, somewhere deep inside my aching vagina. At almost the same moment, Geoffrey put his hand on my pussy and gave a little rub, as if he were bestowing a pat of encouragement upon a beloved pony, and I cried out with a kind of pleasure I had never felt before. The humiliation and the submission to his way and the feeling of the white nightgown raised to my waist together spun me into a world in which fantasies of punishment and fantasies of pleasure were the same, where a girl like me could get everything she needed and everything she had earned in the feeling of one giant cock wielded by a man who loved her.

I arched my back and tried to move my knees, unsure of what I was even trying to procure in the way of where Geoffrey’s cock was going inside my riven bottom. I ground my clitoris onto the cushion under me. I sobbed with the effort of trying to win pleasure from my master’s painful use of my upturned rear.

But Geoffrey said, “Shh, sweetie. Just hold still and let me have my way,” and he took my hips firmly in his hands and began to thrust quickly and deeply. That was when, to my astonishment, I felt my first anal orgasm approaching. I managed to hold still the way he wanted, but I couldn’t suppress the screams that were coming out of my mouth, like no other sound I had ever made, and utterly unlike the quiet way of every orgasm of my life to that point.

“Oh, you bad girl,” Geoffrey grunted. “We’re going to have to gag you next time, aren’t we?” and he came, holding my hips firmly, not spasming the same way as when he had come in my pussy, but trembling all over his body, I could feel.

“Oh, sir, please…” I screamed. I was almost there. Geoffrey was a kind master, and he put his finger there where I needed it the most, and rubbed, hard, and I felt like I was exploding. I drove his detumescing cock out of my backside—unintentionally—and, with every muscle in my body clenching, I shouted my climax to the sheets of my master’s bed.

I collapsed over the big cushion, feeling like I would never move again. I felt Geoffrey kissing me gently on my bottom cheeks, my thighs, my cringing vulva—which made me shriek “Oh, please, no, please, no.” Then he eased the cushion out from under me and let it drop over the side of the bed and came to lie next to me, caressing my sweat-drenched cheek with the back of his hand.

“You were wonderful, sweet girl,” he said. “I love you. You pleased me so much.”

The defiant, independent woman mumbled something about it being demeaning, but my submissive soul said it was the most wonderful sentence I had ever heard. He put his arm around my waist and drew himself close to me, letting me stay where I was—where I wanted to be: on my belly, where my master had deflowered my bottom, with my nightgown still above my waist. He laid his hand gently there upon my bottom and asked, “Are you very sore, sweetheart?”