submission, episode three


Naked, kneeling, wrists bound behind my back, I rub my cheek against him. He is so hard. I catch the slightest whiff of scent – that wonderful scent that all men exude – and I begin to salivate. I can feel the wetness between my open thighs as I turn my head and slide my lips over him.
God. Even through the material of his slacks, I can feel the ridges and textures that wait for me. I can feel his cock flex against my lips as I firm them, wrapping them around my teeth so I can massage him through the layers of clothing that separate us.
I whimper; soft, against the back of my throat as I explore him in the only way I can.

I’m afraid to look up. Is he enjoying this or laughing to himself silently at my very awkwardness? Resolutely, I shut off my thoughts and concentrate on the delightful hard cock between my lips.
He pulls my head back, moving aside to remove his slacks. I watch him hungrily from my position on the floor.
He steps back in front of me, his shirt hanging low over his briefs. Now there are only two layers between my lips and nirvana.
I slide my mouth over him, rubbing him from base to tip. I breathe heavily against him, hoping to infuse his cock with some of my heat. I want him in my mouth so badly that everything else fades; I’m unaware of light, of temperature, of everything except the delightful treat beneath my lips.
He pulls my head back yet again, removing his briefs. He murmurs something about having to teach me.
My cheeks flush with shame as I realize I could have removed his briefs for him, with my teeth, burrowed my head beneath his shirt and performed the task that, rightfully, should have been mine to begin with. I’d been so singlemindedly obsessed with keeping my lips on him that it hadn’t even occurred to me.
Bad little sub. But I will learn. I will learn for him.
His shirt still hangs low, covering his cock and balls. He stands before me, just one layer of clothing left that separates us. This time, I know what I can do to please him.
It’s harder than I thought, trying to move his shirt out of the way with only my mouth. Teeth would be easier, but I would rather it take hours than run the risk of accidentally grazing him. Slowly, inch by inch, I work the fabric up above his cock.
And there it is. Naked, hard, so beautiful it nearly stops my breathing. Honestly. God. It smells so good. I slide my tongue across the velvety head and whimper again, deep in my throat.
I wet him thoroughly with my tongue, taking my time as best I can (my impatience is growing) and then rise up to slide him in my mouth. My pussy throbs and I moan softly as I begin to slip him between my lips, bobbing my head over him again and again as though I’ll never get enough.
He moves to sit on the edge of the bed. On my knees, I follow him, too enraptured with this first taste to do anything less. I work my mouth over his cock for long minutes, not even aware of my wrists, still bound. As I move my neck to pleasure him, the collar rubs against me, a delightful reminder of why I am here, and whose pleasure this is for.
Still, the pleasure I’m feeling is enormous. Right or wrong.
Eventually, he stops me and unclips my wrists. He rubs them gently. I feel a little bereft at the loss, but smile at him bravely and wait to see what he has in mind next.
Peeling off his shirt, he positions himself facedown on the bed and orders me to massage him.
I straddle him, shivering a little as my pussy lips settle on his lower back. I pray that my wetness won’t leak out all over him.
And then I begin.
Touching him is pure raw pleasure. I find myself wishing that I’d brought my massage oils to ease the passage of my fingers over his skin. How I would love to rub the oil deep into his muscles, easing his tensions, bringing him relaxation and pleasure.
I ask for permission to speak, and he grants it. He allows me to speak to him off and on as I rub my fingers dreamily over his body. Eventually my words taper off. I’m in a wonderful place I’ve rarely ever been before, where no words are needed, just touch.
“Now my legs.” he orders.
I scamper down the bed and run my hands over his thighs and calves, crisp hair and firm skin rubbing against my sensitive fingertips.
Eventually, though, it’s the intriguing bulge between his thighs that draws me. His balls are pushed slightly between his legs from the pressure of his body, and my curious fingertips stroke over him; once, twice.
It’s such a curiously soft area of a man’s body. It teases me and calls to me. I lick the very tips of my fingers and resume stroking him, watching as he shifts a little to give me better access.
“That’s not my legs.” he murmurs, disapproving.
“I know.” I respond in a meek little voice. “I just can’t help myself…”
In time, he turns over and again I’m presented with his lovely, hard cock. Yes, I know I should run my fingers over his chest, his thighs, continue the massage as he ordered, but it’s like a beacon.
And the throb between my thighs, slick wetness and excitement, won’t let me do anything less.
I take him in my mouth again. This time my hands are free to roam his body, his thighs, the delightful texture of his balls. His cock grows slippery and my hands slide to the base of his cock, joining with my mouth to provide a different medley of sensations for him.
I could be here for hours, most happily.
I feel his hand on my arm, tightening, tightening, as his cock reaches unbelievable size and stiffness between my lips. I know he’s about to come. I moan again, wanting to taste him more than ever.
He jerks in my mouth, a slow series of pulses as he fills me with his juices. I swallow greedily, and soften my mouth around him so that I may suck and lick him clean.
It’s a long time before I can release him. Eventually, though, I let him slip from my lips and slide up his body to lay beside him, satiated and yet nearly dripping with excitement.
We lay there for a long time. I think he’s amused by my trancelike state as I am feeling wonderfully satisfied.
Getting dressed feels foreign and unnatural after all that has happened. He unhooks the collar, laughing to himself that he should make me wear it home. I throw him a look of near terror and I wince inside at the chuckle he makes. I know then that one day he will make me do so. But for now, there is still much to be learned.
I nearly soak my panties through on the ride home. It tells me in no uncertain terms how very much I have liked my first taste of sex with an edge.

About the author

Vikki McKay
By Vikki McKay

Follow Me