Note: The previous episode is here.

Stephanie waited, naked, on my floor, her face, her outspread arms and her breasts touching the carpet, and her ass up and poised.

It’s just about the sexiest position a woman can assume. Nothing says, “I need to be fucked,” like lordosis. 

I bent down and touched her hair. I said, in my softest, gentlest voice, “Good girl.” Stephanie grunted. She was in the state of mind in which “Good girl,” was a comfort.

Then I pulled her hair, medium hard, to remind her who we were being to each other, in that room, and while she sighed, taking that in, the knowledge that she was a girl who got her hair pulled, I lowered myself to the floor behind her, my knees between hers, my cock pressing urgently against her sweet and very wet cunt.

I didn’t move, though. Stephanie’s hips made little micro-movements of need, wanting me inside her. But she knew I didn’t want her to rock her ass back and take me.

It wasn’t that she knew I’d punish her if she did, though I certainly would. It was that she liked this game and she wanted to be good. And maybe be called ‘good girl’ again.

So we stayed like that, Stephanie waiting, presented for fucking, being tormented.

I was tormented too, of course, but I knew when it was going to and. Or begin. 

I said, “Keep still. That’s a good girl.” It was so difficult not to take her immediately and hard. In one thrust. I let another minute pass, caressing the sides of her breasts, and moving my hands up to hold her, firmly, by her hips. Then at last I moved forward, letting the head of my cock touch slick, wet, needy cunt, and a little further forward so her lips parted for half of the head of my cock. It was like being kissed in welcome. Stephanie made a sound that was close to a sob, then sucked in her breath. She knew she still didn’t have permission to move. 

I mentioned at the start of this story that I’d known Stephanie for years. I knew her family, too. Stephanie was a spoiled girl. She’d never really needed permission for anything while she was growing up. Waiting for permission now, being obedient, was a new experience for her. Clearly, she was finding it hot, in this context.

I said, “Stephanie.” 

“Yes. Jaime?” 

“You can rock back now, and take more of me. Just the head of my cock. If you go further… Well, my belt’s on the floor here. Understand?” 

There were a lot of things she could have said about that. But she took the belt threat without questioning it. She said, “Urrrrrnh.”

I hoped I wouldn’t have to use the belt. Not tonight; it wouldn’t fit the mood. But her acquiescence to the idea in principle made my cock just a little harder. I think she felt that.

She moved back, very carefully, impaling her soft centre on me. My glans covered in her, held tightly, I squeezed my fingers, hard, on her hips. We’d wanted each other for years. It was something to savour.

Then I raised my right hand and smacked her, just for the joy of it. I pushed further in, then back, half an inch back and one inch forward, each time.

Stephanie’s face was turned, and her mouth was open. There was dribble on the carpet. Forward, then back.

Neither of us had any thoughts, any things to say.

I moved forward a little further, then back. Stephanie started to move now that most of my cock was in her, rocking on her knees, pleasuring herself. 

At last my pubic bone and stomach pressed against her ass. We were fully joined. I said, “Stephanie, you are good. And sweet. And beautiful. And…” 

She moved and I shut up. Suddenly, we were fucking as fast and hard as we could. My knees rubbed on the carpet, painfully, and I didn’t care. She was going to lose skin too. 

The next episode is here.

Note

This is a continuing story. Icouldn’t write an episode llast week because travel. But the most recent episode, before this one is here.

The story so far: Stephanie and I left my own party to go across the road, and do everything but fuck in the children’s playground, after midnight. When we got back to my place, I put my clothes back on, but Stephanie had to stay naked. Since she was happy with that, I told her to drop to her knees, for the journey through the party-goers to my bedroom. 

And the thing is, the really cool thing, is that she did.

The previous episode is . Read it, if you haven’t, then read on.

Crawling to my room

I opened the back door, and stood back as if I were a polite man, so Stephanie could lead the way, prowling on her hands and knees. It wasn’t politeness, of course. I just wanted to watch her ass.

I said, because there are times a dom can’t help himself, and it comes with an incredibly powerful wave of both affection and lust, “Good girl, Stephanie.”

She looked at me, thinking, I guess, about protesting the idea that I was in any position to decide whether she was good or not.

(I was in an excellent position to observe she was a girl, and she couldn’t have any doubt about that.)

Then she looked back down at the carpet, so I suppose she’d decided that what I said went. She was a good girl.  

There was no one around, near the back door. I reached down and smacked her arse, hard, and she skittered a little, like a horse might, then began to crawl towards the main corridor. We could hear people there. Her arrival in that corridor was going to be noticed. And she knew she was a pretty girl, and that my male guests in particular were going to notice her.

I said, “You know the way to my room. Go.” And I smacked her again. This time she accepted it, and began to crawl, half prowling and half shuffling, to the door of my room. I had a thought. “Keep your head down, girl.” I smacked her again. There was no way not to.

There was about a dozen people in the corridor, one couple kissing, and two groups of five. They looked at Stephanie first, and then at me. They’d seen me do weird stuff before. Most of them didn’t know about me and bdsm (a higher proportion of the women knew, but they were still a minority), so I guess they just took it as theatre.

I said, “Second door on the left, Maureen.” (That was what my idea had been, such as it was. Most people are terrible witnesses, and most of the guys, and the women for that matter, weren’t looking at the naked, crawling girl’s face. So using the name “Maureen” might just give Stephanie a kind of privacy. She, I hoped, wouldn’t be in the stories about this. In any face, her face was as red as I’ve ever seen anyone’s. She liked humiliation, and she certainly had her fill in that corridor.

But she reached my doorway, and made the left turn inside. There was a couple on my bed talking. I felt bad about throwing them out, because I’d hoped they’d get together, and they clearly had. Unfortunately, they’d have to consummate somewhere else now. Four idiots (I say this affectionately) who were wasting party time by standing around and talking about Gramsci, also looked at me.

I said, “I’m sorry to chuck you out. But I need the room. Sorry, John, sorry, Lena.” That was to the couple on the bed. But they broke up, Lena laughing at me because of things she knew, and they all filed out. I shut the door behind them, and pushed Stephanie’s scarlet face down to the carpet.

“Keep your ass high, Stephanie. Knees apart. Spread your arms out so your upper body is on the carpet.”

Stephanie made a little moaning noise, that wasn’t a protest, and obeyed. She looked spectacularly, nakedly and rudely offered. Sexually offered.

She said, “Uh, Jaime,” and I smacked her again. She waited, watching me from the floor. I took my clothes off again, and took a condom from my wallet. I put it on.

“Carpet burns, darling. You’re about to get serious carpet burns.” 

The next episode is here.