Happiness becomes her.
An erotic story of a dom and his ex sub.
Happiness becomes her. She is laughing further up the table at something her date has said, and her whole face lights up, an energy about her he hasn’t seen before, at least not with anyone else but himself.
He is beginning to regret setting them up, and he tries to squash the thought, knowing it isn’t fair, but feeling it anyway. He had deliberately brought her into his circle of friends, setting her up with a good mate of his. He wanted her happiness after they decided to stop playing, but was also aware of an underlying need to keep her near. It wasn’t one-sided of course, she had asked him to choose someone for her after her marriage ended, had wanted to be near him as well.
They had shared a special relationship for a while.
One where he was very much her Master, and she was his pet. For years they had played in secret. Under his hand, she had blossomed sexually and he had pressed her every boundary. It was a sensual little world in which they had both been able to indulge their darker sides, and had grown rather fond of each other in the process.
The entree is being served, and as the plates are placed, she looks up, and he catches her eye for a second. She smiles that little smile that he knows is only for him, her eyes darkening with the memory of him for just a fleeting moment.
He feels something stir. Fuck.
They hadn’t played since she had started dating again, and he is suddenly hard at the thought of her. His mind swinging back to the amount of depraved and dirty acts they had played out, how many more were never realized.
She has turned back to the table, saying something funny that makes those around her laugh. But he can tell she is aware now of his gaze, her body already reacting to him, the same way his does to her. It’s been so long.
He tries to break free, willing himself to leave well enough alone, and he excuses himself to go help his own ‘other half’ in the kitchen.
Kissing his girlfriend on the back of the neck, he offers to take over carving the lamb. She kisses him sweetly, and he tries to right his thoughts. It’s always been his problem. Too many wants. Too little restraint. He sets aside the dirty thoughts running around his head and concentrates on his task.
His girlfriend leaves with a platter of meat for the table, and he excuses himself for the bathroom. Only to find her there waiting to go as well.
“pet,” He whispers it without thinking, and she looks at him in surprise, lust in her eyes that she quickly attempts to hide from him.
“Sir,” she whispers back, her tone attempting to make fun but faltering, failing to hide her reaction to him. It had been a while since they had been in such close quarters, and she felt caught in his gaze, the intensity, the nervous energy building.
The occupied toilet is free, and exiting is a friend of his. While his attention is broken, she quickly uses the opportunity to slip away from him into the bathroom. Voices recede behind the closed door, and she can hear the laughter in the garden. She takes a deep breath, attempting to calm her excited nerves.
She has just started to slip her underwear down, when he suddenly opens the door, closing it quickly behind him. She attempts to pull her underwear back up, but he shakes his head ‘no’ and leans back against the closed door.
“Go… I want to watch you…”
She sits on the toilet but finds it hard at first to let go, and he is smiling wickedly, knowing her predicament. She curses him, trying to break eye contact, but he orders her, “Keep your eyes on me…” and she can’t help but obey him, feeling herself slip into familiar obedience. She lets go, trickling in nervous bursts.
“Good pet….” as she finishes, and as she tries to get dressed, he steps forward, pulling her to him and then against the wall in one movement, her underwear still halfway down her legs and his hand on her throat.
So close to her now, and it feels so good this power he has over her, addictive, to have her pressed like this, almost whimpering but he can feel her lust beneath, how willing she still is to please him, the way her body arches into his. He nuzzles into her neck, whispering in her ear the things he would like to do to her, slipping a hand between her legs to feel how incredibly wet she is for him. Her breathing is suddenly more a pant, and he presses on her throat, pulling back to look into her eyes, to hold her gaze as her consciousness slips a little with the tightening of his grip.
“Please…” she whispers. And he knows she isn’t pleading to let go.
“Miss me pet?”
She looks at him, still conflicted. He eases his grip, meeting her gaze, wordlessly giving her options. She lowers her eyes, accepting.
“I missed you sir..” it’s a whisper, but he can hear the truth in it.
He kisses her then, gently at first, then pressing her back against the wall. His tongue invading her mouth deliciously. His fingers rubbing against her, slipping inside her pussy, and she can feel the hardness of his gorgeous fat cock against her hip. She is dropping in under his assault, giving in, wanting that cock, imagining it inside her. Unable, after all this time, to be anything else but his.
“Suck me.”
He lets go of her — a test of sorts, and she graduates with flying colors, dropping to her knees, waiting expectantly as he undoes his fly. The energy rushed, desperate, she eagerly wraps her mouth around him, taking him deep into her throat.
He slides into her mouth slowly, then building faster, rough. She falls more into her submission, tasting his gorgeous cock again and he, in turn, has forgotten how good this feels. It makes him groan, the memory of it rushing back, of her training, of all the ways she had learned to please him, and she looks up at him watching her… Yes, pet yes…
Pulling her up now, as the raucous noise of a dinner-party-done-right floats to them through the open window. The excitement, the need mixed with the possibility of discovery overwhelming them both. He throws her against the wall hard, and ripping her skirt up, slips his cock into her pussy in one savage stroke.
Deep. Hard. It’s like a statement. A punctuation.
How did he give this up? He starts to slide in and out in deep long strokes, enjoying how wonderfully wet and slippery she is, the heat of her, the textures of her pussy as she convulses and squeezes around his thick shaft. How very excited she is on the end of his cock. He presses her face hard against the bathroom door, wanting simultaneously to both savage her and rescue her, enjoying the conflict of the two. The black and white and full technicolor of it.
She is crying out at his deep assault, shaking and cumming at his abuse. They have both forgotten the outside, there is nothing other than them in this moment, a circle, a bubble of intimacy and raw energy.
Her pussy sucks him like a tongue, muscles wanking him, and she is open to him, her groans loud now, forgetting where they are, all other matters falling away.
It was never nothing. It was never everything. And yet this delicious space, the gorgeous way she reacts to him, the pleasure they seek in each other. The fantasies that never happened, the headspace, the heights they could have reached if they had been free to. The way she knows his mind and gives herself up to it. A sacrifice to his need. And he in turn exceeding hers.
He turns her around to him, looks her in the eye, wanting to see her expression, wanting to know her again, and they stop. Both breathing hard. She falters.
“.. I can’t….we can’t,” she whispers trying to break his gaze again, and he answers with a dip of his head, catching a nipple in his mouth, his tongue working that bundle of nerve endings, making her groan as she feels a deep echo. An echo she won’t feel with another. She knows her own defeat, her want for him unabated. She feels it rising… the need….
“Sir?” Her voice is a question. Wanting him to simply tell her what to be.
Outside the world goes on, and they look at each other. Noises floating in laughter, almost alien to them, from the lunch outside. Their other halves, unaware.
His thoughts teetering one way or another. Yes and no. Should and shouldn’t. He kneels himself, to taste her, to worship her, telling himself it is a final act. She quivers on the end of his tongue, pleading, pressing his face into her pussy, and he nods for her to cum… cum for me pet. She responds, her body shuddering as he sucks and tongues her clit.
The want is too much.
A decision made, he grabs her by the hair and flips her. Presses her down and roughly bends her over the sink. Sliding into her, he fucks her fast and brutal. She is flooding him, cumming on his cock, crying out, and he fucks her roughly, passionately. Pressing her face against the porcelain, his fingers curled tightly through her hair, he takes her, owning her. Finally, in long deep strokes, he starts to cum deep inside her. She is sobbing his name, as he slams into her round arse like he is wanting to leave a mark on her subconscious, somehow, in case…
…Mine
No one seems to notice their flushed faces, as they return to the meal. The roast too tender, and the company too compelling.
He glances at her as they sit, and although focussing on her date, she deliberately slips her skirt up enough for him to see she is fingering the scar he gave her years ago, a nod to him, to her master. He smiles and serves himself a big serve of the roast.
He has certainly built an appetite.
