Hers
I adore the way she makes my cock feel. And when I say my cock, I mean hers; it may be part of my body, but she owns it, no matter which mouth, cunt, or ass it’s currently servicing. It’s hers to command and use and abuse.
I love the way she looks at it when it’s soft and just getting rousted, contemplating all how she’s going to play with it.
All the ways she’s going to tease me.
Build me up for sweet release and then deny me it.
Edge me until I can’t stand it anymore. And then keep going.
I get hard thinking about her hands rolling me between her finger and thumb, the staccato licks and butterfly kisses she gives as she bends it to her will.
“Whose cock is this?” she’ll ask.
“Yours,” I’ll reply.
“Say it again.”
“Yours.”
“Good boy.”
She gently rubs me to hardness blowing across the tip after dipping it into her mouth for a moment, the heat and moistness of her growing me further.
“And when you’re fucking her, who are you really fucking?” she’ll ask.
“You, my queen. Always you.”
I’m rock hard now, balls tightening with every stroke she rewards me with. She squeezes and pinches and her nails dig in a little. The pain is white hot between my legs and I want nothing more than to plunge myself deep inside her and empty myself.
But that’s not what she wants.
And she always gets what she wants.
Her mouth descends over me, a warm blanket enveloping me. My lust rises further. I want to cum so much it hurts, but I can’t.
Because that’s not what she wants.
Yet.
She looks over the top of my cock, grinning.
“Have you been a good boy?”
“Yes, my queen.”
“Do you deserve a reward?”
“I’d like one.”
She turns to the other woman in the room with us, who has been playing with her pussy throughout all the attention my cock has been getting. I’d totally forgotten about her, completely focused on the woman that could bend me to her will like no other ever could.
“He’s ready for you now,” she says, almost offhandedly. She pushes me back onto the hotel bed. My legs hang off the edge of the bed and my cock is ramrod straight. She squeezes it tightly, reminding me of her ownership.
“Ride him as hard as you like. When you feel like he’s ready to cum, deny him. Until I tell him he’s allowed to.”
The other woman moves on top of me, her wet and swollen pussy glistening from the attention it’s had during my prep time. My queen’s hand helps guide me into the woman, who moans as I enter her and then slides down me to make our hips touch.
My queen looks at me, locking me in her gaze. “Don’t you dare fucking cum until I tell you to — do you understand?”
I nod, because I don’t want her to hear through my voice how weak and compliant she’s made me, although she already knows, and always does.
“Good”. She moves and straddles my face, lowering herself above me, guiding my hands onto the top of her thighs. I can smell her, but I need to taste her. She denies me this for a moment.
I feel her fingernails scratch hard against my abs, then my chest. She grabs me, telling me in no uncertain terms that she owns me. That she’s allowing me to be inside this other woman. That’s something granted and something that can be taken away.
So I need to behave and do what I’m told.
And I will.
I always do.
She lowers herself further, and my mouth finds her pussy. My tongue accidentally probes her. She slaps my abs, stinging me, the sound reverberating around the room.
“When I say so.”
I tense, and my cock jerks inside the other woman. She clenches softly in response.
I wait for permission to do what she wants me to do.
“Are you ready?” she asks the other woman.
“Yes,” the other woman replies, one of the few words she’s said all night.
Her hands clutch at mine and she tilts her hips forward and back.
“Now. Now you can fuck us.”
Permission given, I do what I’m told.
As I always do.
Because it’s what she wants.
And she always gets what she wants.