Erotic fiction reprint- Originally appeared at The Showcase at Freaky Fountain Press. *read at your own peril this is explicit TW: biting, femme dom
The feeling of his breath on the back of my neck makes me tense from my hairline to my coccyx. He knows how I feel about that and I close my eyes, wait for him to come to his senses.
I tuck my lower lip between my teeth and wait; he doesn’t say anything but I feel his long, thin fingers move against the side of my throat, the tremor moves from his fingers to my flesh.
He thinks he’s slick; I know this game all too well. He will lick the shell of my ear and press his body just close enough to mine, so I feel the suggestion of his cock and then he’ll be gone.
Normally I give in, I let him have his moment and I get over it.
Tonight I’m too hungry for that. As I feel the flicker of his tongue and the bare brush of his body I reach back and hold onto his hip, I roll against him like a cat. I hold him where he is and move my hips slowly side to side. His fingers stop moving against my neck and the weight of his presence changes.
He is not ready for me. Not tonight.
Once he’s frozen I turn slowly and carefully to face him, using the small distance between our bodies as a buffer, he is tense and it makes me smile.
I don’t look at his face. I’m too careful. If I look the moment will be his and tonight I can’t have that.
Instead of looking at his face I look at his throat, I watch the artery there pulse for a moment before I trace it with a fingertip. The tension in him moves and settles into a deep thrum, a vibrating tremor that makes him quiver and his breath catch in his throat.
“You know, most days you can get away with that.”
He starts to speak and I lay my hand over his mouth and shake my head.
“Oh no. Not tonight. Shhh.”
I tilt my head forward and use my other hand to yank the collar of his shirt down to expose a patch of his fuzzy skin. I have to stand on tiptoe and use the hand on his mouth for leverage to get myself to the right height and angle, when I’m satisfied I lean in and bite.
As I close my teeth tighter I feel the whimper behind his lips against my hand, he loves and hates to be bitten. I pull my head back, biting harder until I feel his hands on my ass start squeezing in a desperate rhythm. I’m tempted to hold on until tears start to trickle down his cheeks and I taste blood, but I don’t. I let go and admire my mark.
He tries to press his hips into mine, but I shove him with the hand over his mouth.
He lowers himself to his knees, moving carefully so as not to dislodge my hand from his mouth. His eyes are downcast and now I look at his face. There are tears in the corners of his eyes caught on his lashes. I take my hand away and step back.
“Take your shirt off.”
Without looking at me he does as I say. I love looking at his bare torso, the pale marks where my teeth have broken his skin, the lingering deep blue and yellow bruises here and there. The diagonal slash of still red lines where I clawed him, marked him as mine.
His scars are discreet and demure; he told me long ago how much he liked that they looked fairly innocuous. I won’t mark him again tonight.
I reach under my skirt and tug my panties off, I rub them against his face and when I look down at the right angle I can see the outline of his hard cock.
“Can you feel how wet, they are?”
He closes his eyes and nods. I know he won’t speak, he’s afraid I will hear the break in his voice. I love it when he’s just on the edge like this. Some nights all it takes is a word in a certain tone, a brush of my lips against a livid bruise; tonight it is my teeth.
I tuck them into the crotch of his jeans.
“You hold onto those for me.”
For a second his mouth twists into a pained grimace. His jeans aren’t very tight and he’s not wearing underwear per usual and he can’t help but squirm, I know how the silky loose feeling drives him crazy. I wonder as I step back to admire him if I can make him come in his pants.
I turn and slide my skirt off; I bend over and feel his gaze on my bare bottom. There is something about me in just a tank top that sets him off. I turn around and smile at him. His eyes are jumping all over; he can’t decide whether to look at my pubic hair or at the swell of my belly just showing below the hem of my shirt or at the round way my thighs meet.
He’s off balance and not paying strict attention, I take the opportunity to push him backwards with my foot on his chest.
“Lay down. Hands behind your back, no not like that. Put your hands together and clasp them in the small of your back. That’s right.”
I know how uncomfortable this position is. I know how much it takes for him to be so vulnerable and incapable of doing anything about it. We’ve never needed restraints he and I, my displeasure and the threat of my withdrawal is enough to keep him in line.
He settles, but he’s squirming and nervous. I know he thinks I’m going to bite and scratch him; I walk over and stand over him with my hands on my hips. His eyes move up the inside of my thigh like fingertips until they settle on my cunt. The slightest, silliest little smile tugs at his lips as he looks.
When I know he’s calmed down I run my finger through my short cropped pubic hair before lowering myself to straddle his hips. I only leave my weight on him for long enough to feel him shudder. I rise up a little and rock until I’ve fitted the bulge of his hard cock lightly against my pussy.
I’ve been taking dance lessons and this is one of the payoffs, I can move my hips in tiny stuttering circles for quite a while. The slight friction of his jeans is just enough to get me hotter and just too little enough contact for him to get off.
For the first minute he’s a good boy, he lies still and chews the inside of his cheek. When I change directions, rubbing myself just a little harder against him, he whines, long and low in his throat. I can see that he’s making fists, his forearms knot up beautifully and I just smile.
Usually at this point I’m so turned on and fuck-hungry that I pull his cock out and we fuck.
Sometimes I forget just how pretty he is when he gets desperate. His eyes pull at the corners with tension and he is fairly vibrating. He wants to beg, he wants to demand, he wants to grab me, throw me on the bed and fuck me until I am speaking in tongues and levitating.
I feel calculating tonight, calculating and mean enough to deny him everything.
Instead of unzipping his fly and pulling out his beautiful bent cock I stand up again and go to the drawer where I keep my favorite toys. I feel his eyes on me, I smile when my back is turned. I turn around armed with my favorite little vibrator. It’s not a flashy thing, but it gets the job done.
“Be still. Keep your eyes open.”
For an instant he looks like he wants to cry and I can very nearly see a wet spot on his jeans. It takes me a minute to arrange myself. I hold my pussy lips just so with my right hand, my index finger on that hand laid next to my clit. I flick the button to get the vibrator going and touch it to my clit.
He whimpers but doesn’t move. My dripping, gaping cunt is nearly resting on his nose and he’s showing admirable restraint. That’s the last I think of him, I move my left index finger a valuable fragment downwards and my clit feels like it’s roaring in response.
The orgasm is coming, it’s coming and I can feel it boiling in my belly. I rub my swollen inner lips with my fingertips, the wetness is seeping from between them and I feel like the sky is going to fall out of my cunt. I feel wide open yet closed up tight, my muscles rippling against each other inside me.
I can hardly breathe and there are things at the corners of my vision as I start to come; right at the most critical moment before the wave crashes, I feel the bold fat tip of his tongue dart inside me and I howl. Everything falls in on me and the universe is reduced to sparks in my head and the contractions in my pussy.
The fleeting contact of his tongue just at the entrance of my pussy pushes my orgasm deeper, my clit swells that much more and I have another. He has always known how and when to push me. I’d hate him for it if I didn’t love him. By the time I can take a breath and toss my vibrator away after turning it off I can hear him chuckling beneath me.
I pull away and hover over him on all fours, my teeth bared and my forehead dripping sweat onto his face. His self-satisfied little smile melts when he sees the look in my eyes.
“Didn’t I tell you to stay the fuck still you shit?”
His lower lip trembles, when I lower my still swollen pussy against him, his cock pulses in his jeans and he lets out a long low whine, his eyes welling with tears.
I rear up, my backside planted on his cock and he winces. When he swings his eyes back up to my face I slap him hard across the face. Before he can beg or apologize, I lean over and sink my teeth into the meaty part of his shoulder while I grind my ass against him.
He makes the sweetest helpless noises, he tries to keep them trapped behind his closed lips, but when I twist my head and pull back he howls.
“Ow, ow, ow! Please, please please please please please…”
He pulls his hands out from behind his back and grabs my hips, his body is arching and bucking against his will.
His eyes screw shut and between his grunts he mutters you fucking bitch, in the throes of his orgasm he is so beautiful, cords stand out in his neck and he holds me close and still. I wish I’d have thought to grab one of the cameras to catch the mix of pain, anger and satisfaction on his face.
When his grip relaxes I stand up, prod him with my foot as I walk away towards the bedroom.
“Jesus you disgust me. Clean yourself up and finish dinner.”
He swallows and nods, his eyes still closed.
“Of course. I’m sorry.”
I walk out to get in bed and wait for dinner with a smile on my face. He will be charming and polite tonight, he will feed me, and then when I’m not paying attention will wreak his vengeance.