The Romantic Dominant
Image by croisy from Pixabay

“This one’s gonna hurt a little,” I said.

“Binder clips at Costco,” she read.

She knew immediately I wasn’t asking her to buy a wholesale supply of black metal medium-sized binder clips.

No — these would be more worn like jewelry, pinning back her labia while she walked down the isles uncomfortably and enjoyed every second of it like only a true submissive would.

“No panties, and you’ll be wearing a sundress. You might want to make sure that this one is not see-through,” I commanded.

“I want your needy little hole peeled back. I want you to feel the slight pinch and I want you to feel the breeze of the wind as you walk. The cool air of the air-conditioned store as it meets your wetness. The wetness you’ll have a hard time containing now,” I said.

I continued, “I’d just get used to the idea now that you may drip down your inner legs. I always find it easier to accept embarrassing moments when the expectations are worst-case scenarios, don’t you?”

“I want to feel a lot of things, but above all — I want you to feel me.

“Yes, Daddy,” she says, which I might as well make have predicted by now. No, “I can’t find a dress like that.” No, “that is too risky.”

No. None of that.

Just “yes, Daddy.”

She thinks to herself, “I’ll improvise if she needs to. Whatever he wants. Whatever he wants. I will make it work.”

“When you pull into the stall and park, pull your dress up and put your balls in. Next, two clips on each side of those gorgeous lips for me. Then rub your clit for me and close your eyes and envision the last time I squeezed your neck. Then call me. I need to hear your thoughts while you shop.”

The walk to the inside of the store was pure torture for you. Me, enjoying the commentary should have been annoying, but instead, it offered a sense of safety and peace. Each reason she had to stop inside the store to grab an item was a saving grace. No uncomfortable steps needed to be taken — no torment. Just standing.

Yes — just standing in place was far easier than moving.

Halfway through the store she got something she was fearing all along but too afraid to ask. She met her fears front and center when she heard my voice say, “Is anybody else on the aisle you are on?”

“Oh shit,” she thought.

“Fuck! I should have known by now. He had this whole thing planned! Mid-morning at Costco on a weekday?! This place is practically empty. He practically knows the answer before he asked the question.”

“No, Daddy. There is hardly anybody in the whole store at all,” she said.

“Good. I was counting on that,” I said.

“Now take one clip off right there and now. That’s right. Pull your little slutty dress up and pinch down on one clip and pull one of them off for me. Put it in your mouth, count to five, then toss it on the ground and keep moving.”

“Dear Lordy,” she mumbles. “Okay, Daddy. Here goes.”

In a split second, the phone is put down, her dress is up, the clip is off, and a nervous giggle ensues.

“I can’t believe I just did that,” she says like a giddy schoolgirl.

“I taste yummy today,” she said.

Her brown eyes now water from the pain. The olive skin on her face now flushed and red from embarrassment. The brown hair on the back of her neck sticking up.

Three more aisles and three more commands and like a perpetual good girl, she is now free of her labia’s shackles, each now tossed onto the ground for some employee to sweep up at the wholesale store. Through the checkout aisle and out the doors, she searches for her car and that’s when it happens.

She sees me.

Leaning up against the SUV with a large plain latte made with two extra shots, my cock is as hard as a rock and I can see her unexpected excitement not realizing I was even in town.

I grab the thickness between my legs and clutch. I see her notice it and I don’t even need to bother asking, but I know she is flooded right now as if she already wasn’t. Each step toward me is one that is wet and slick, and what hope she had to contain her glisten is all but gone.

Thoroughly trained, I can make you cum on command; you getting wet from seeing me in person is hardly a feat.

Thank god there are hardly any groceries, the lot is nearly empty, and your windows are dark because I am not going to make it very far before I foist the cock in my hand inside you.

I kiss you like I fucking meant and immediately put two fingers inside you pull you closer to me by way of your sodden cunt.

“Put the seats down. Pop the back. Toss me the keys. Get in the passenger seat,” I say.

Groceries in the back and in less than two minutes we are in a parking stall on the rear side near the loading docks. I step out, open your door like a gentleman even though I want to rip your clothes off. I open the rear door and toss you inside, legs up, and bury my beard between your legs and make you crawl inside your skin for me.

Flicking away at your clit, I climb in and close the door and stretch your tortured kitty with as many fingers as I can feed you.

“I can’t take it,” I think.

“Normally I can refrain a little but I just have no self-control,” I tell myself. “I must be inside you,” I know.

I peel back your lips and pull wide, to expose your bare hole, drop the head of my cock at your entry, and push hard and deep in one swell thrust to fill you. A reach with my left hand to the top of your hair to lift you toward me and my right placed over your clit, and I rub circles round and round as I fuck you as hard as I can.

You cum a few times before I flood your kitty with my commitment. I tell you, “can’t let that go to waste, Kitten.”

You lean back, spread them wide, cup your hand and let my seed fall out of you and then lick every last drop off your fingers as if I fed you Godiva-covered strawberries.

You get the words that make you whole.

“Good girl.”

The Romantic Dominant

Written by

Passion. Love. D/s and erotica from a male perspective. Middle-aged American Dominant. Read-Enjoy-Touch. Very taken, by an Orange Sky.

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