A Week Later.

by Portman


It had been most of a week since our last time together.  Ha! Who was I kidding.  It had been four days and just over six hours from the time Mitch spanked me, punished me, instructed me in how to keep my ass for his enjoyment, ordered me to remain still and vulnerable as he twisted my nipples almost to tears and grasped me from my cunt as though he owned it.  Five days since I had eagerly consented to all of these things.

No, that wasn’t correct, was so not the point. It is true I did not object, but these things he did to me without consent, had asked permission for none of it. And in my waking dreams since that day, in erotic reveries of perversion that will not abate, he never does.

It is nearly an hour until we will meet.  My panties are soaked and my nipples hurt from anticipation.  How can I tell Mitch what I don’t even understand?  That I crave a kind of oblivion, a negation of my own sexual ambitions.  Since last week I have become utterly preoccupied with a concept of sexual ownership that is so profound it scares me.  I don’t know if it is possible.  I don’t understand its origins and I don’t know if it is fair to hope that Mitch will fulfill his role in the arrangement.  What I intuit of my desires is not passive, but intensely submissive.  The acts I contemplate performing, the freedoms I bestow upon Mitch to assume of me are so contrary to contemporary notions of sexual empowerment that I feel they certainly must be abnormal.  But the visions are so compelling, the yearning so consuming I … shiver.  What I envision cannot be called wrong.

And somehow I must translate them to Mitch in a way that does not queer him.  Oh god!  I wish, I wish, I triple wish there were a way to make him see the purity of my vision.  Without awkwardness.  To state my needs free from fear of rejection.  Because I know that fear;  know that it will bite my tongue;  shade the depth of my desires and protect perfect knowledge of these innermost cravings from his possession, and thus from their realization.

I fear the strain of protecting these truths will make me ill, their imperative too violent to be harbored now.  Sometimes I become almost angry with Mitch for his stupid meddling.  It is silly but still I feel a certain resentment that he could not have left well enough alone.  I don’t know which I fear more, that he will reject my perversions outright; gamely struggle to hide his revulsion, his pity, or worse, mask the bloom of disrespect in cruel, crude lechery.

But I am buoyed by the circumstances that raised this crisis.  It was he that handled me as a thing, took forceful possession of my sex and used it, presumed to train it.  My yearning is not unbidden, was called from a passion he cannot deny issuing, grunting, collapsed upon me.  I do not think I am wrong to trust him, can hope with cause that he will not retreat from what he has begun.

It’s just that I can’t fathom a way to request that he own me.

That is it at its simplest, but so shocking, even to my inner ear:  I believe I desire that he own my sex, bind it to him, use it, abuse it, command it, shape it in any of a thousand ways so vivid in my mind’s eye that for five days now, each blink has been a little dream of surrender and abandon.  The spanking, my hands bound in his.  These two acts have catalyzed the most potent of my past acts, have conjoined them to strong currents of submission.  The dark well of my erotic life has raised on the swell of these currents, is brimming with fantasies, no, not fantastic idylls, but visions, yearnings never experienced but now gilt with the familiarity of urgent memories. What will I manage to say to convey my need?


I opened the door and Jane stepped through it.

We had spoken little the past week.  I used a business trip as a pretext for the lack of communication.


As though phones didn’t exist.


What conversation we’d had was mostly to arrange this meeting, both of us seeming to understand that whatever could be said would need to be said in person.  She shrugged out or her coat which I laid over the couch.  I turned, a bit awkward, leaned forward and, without touching her, kissed her lips lightly. Stood back to appreciate her form.

She wore a thin square-cut short sleeve silk blouse that shelved from her breasts without gathering again at her ribs or waist. From the definition of her nipples, the slight swaying motion of her smallish breasts, it appeared she wore no bra.  Beneath that, a very short, lightly pleated rayon skirt, thin strapped heels of medium height.  I moved closer, slid hands beneath the invitation of her loose blouse, clasped her breasts briefly, then circled behind, embraced her, opened her mouth with my tongue, kissed her deeply.  Felt the sexual tension, always aroused in me at her merest contact, begin pooling in my loins, sex-urge and blood uncoiling my cock to press against her warm belly.

“Jane, I…” She put fingers to my lips hushing me, took my fingers, pressed them to her lips, kissed them, eyes fixed on their twining with her own.  I couldn’t really read her, didn’t know what to make of her unwillingness to speak. The moment stretched, pregnant with the need to define our desired progression, if any.  I tried to pull her away from the door toward the living room but she would not move, fixed me by her tenuous hold on my hand. Was it a tremor I saw?  I faced her again, composing a picture of inquiry with my eyebrows, a tilt of my head.

Something seemed to break, or gel, become firm in her.  Still holding my hand, she slowly began to bend her legs, went to one and then both knees, the one hand twined in my own now raised above her head, the other she held behind her back.  Her face was nuzzled fully against my crotch and she inhaled deeply.  I stood mesmerized as she continued her facial caresses, saying nothing.  And then she drew back slightly, raised her eyes to hold my own in silent appeal.

I wasn’t completely sure, but could fathom no other possible intent.  I disengaged her fingers, reached to my belt, released the catch, unsnapped the waistband of my slacks, unzipped.  All this she watched me do solemnly, or perhaps avidly? as a cat will watch a mouse move fatally from protective cover, gathering to pounce.  At the last I placed my hand on her head as I withdrew my semi-hard cock, felt her lean forward, freeze at the gentle pressure of my hand restraining her head.

Very delicately, I let my cock breath the cooler air, teased it rampant, rolling it between my thumb and middle finger inches from her face.  It was very hard now and still I kept her distanced, tilted her head up with a light tug on her hair.

“Open your mouth.” Looking me in the eyes now, unwaveringly, she complied.  I released her head, confident of her comprehension:  she would not fellate me until permitted.  I ran my fingers lightly across her brow, circled past and around the temple following the line of her jaw down, a feather’s touch across her cheek, circling the ridges of her lips, first the top, then the bottom.  Then I clasped her jaw and bent my rigid dick to her mouth.  Again, I had to restrain her impulse to fully take me, was delighted by her immediate retreat, waiting.  Only then did I place the tip of my cock ever so lightly on her proffered tongue.  She waggled it very slightly, bent the tip to massage the frenulum, but made no other effort to take more of me into her.  As a reward for her restraint I ran my middle finger from the base of my cock to the tip, compressing the urethra, milked a copious spurt of precum onto her tongue, used the head of my cock to rub it across the porous pink expanse.

She was mesmerized and in her distraction I clutched her hair, firmed my grip on her chin and shoved home my meat.  It took only a split second for her to recover and she avidly began eating me.  I lightened the guiding tension of my hands at her jaw and forelock; let her, for the moment, set the pace and depth of the sucking.  She grasped my ass with both hands, used this purchase to sink herself deeper onto my shaft.  She took me very deeply, her tongue swirling around the tip, stroking the bottom of the shaft.  I felt her nose against my pelvis as she took me to the root, her breath hissing through flattened nostrils like an infant pressed suckling to a breast.  Her arms continued pulling me to her mouth and I gave myself to the delicious feel of this sucking.  And then a long slow slide back to the tip, biting softly at the juncture of my cock-head and shaft, intense sucking of that most sensitive crown of flesh making me gasp.  After a bit of this I reasserted control of the pace;  began pumping her mouth in slow steady strokes. She forsook her lead, dropped her hands to her side and passively accepted the mouth fucking.  I could feel cum beginning to swell in my core and withdrew, wishing to savor the coming fuck.

On impulse I grasped her hair and forcibly lifted her to her feet, tugged back to bring her lips to mine and savored the faintest taste of myself on her tongue.  With my free hand I fumbled to reach under her skirt and experienced an erotic jolt that actually weakened my knees:  she’d spread her legs apart and lifted the skirt inviting total access to her cunt.  I think literally that I almost swooned, heard an involuntary feral sound issue from my chest as I fingered aside the thin ribbon of her thong strap and speared her hot soaked pussy with my hand. The force of my entry lifted her slightly and she groaned, then worked herself more deeply onto my hand, gyrating softly. After a short time of holding her core, I broke the kiss, released my grip, bent and pulled my pants back onto my hips and zipped up.

Now she did not resist as I brought her to the couch where I sat.  But rather than join me, she knelt between my legs laying her head in my lap, cheek pressed against my hardness.

“This is how I want us to be Mitch.  Do you understand?”  Her voice startled me.  A clear impression of her meaning, her intention and desires came to me, extrapolated from this submissive presentment, but I didn’t, couldn’t trust my instinct, had to doubt that I comprehended her meaning.  I needed more.

“I think so baby, but not well enough.  What you’re saying… it isn’t enough permission for where we…for what I want to do to you.”  She was quiet then, continued to nuzzle my crotch, like she could stay there all night and be content.  I stroked her hair and waited, unable to say more myself.  I gathered in these moments, saw the tableau of our caresses from outside myself.  And then softly she spoke:

“I don’t care where we go Mitch.  You said it, I …” her voice faltered, her face hid again in my crotch.  Then softly, “I want you to use me, Mitch.  However, whatever you want, trust me, its o.k.”

“Baby, do you know…” could I say it, risk it all, lay down the whole concept without preamble? Fuck it!

“Jane, I want to go places with you, places that kinda scare me actually.”  I was shaking, trembling from the adrenaline of risk. She was also tense.  Her fingers clutched my thighs and she kept her face pressed to my groin but was nodding her head silently.

“When I spanked you, you didn’t stop me.  Did you like it?”

Jane froze for a moment and I held my breath.  I felt her gather her legs under her and then she rose, stood facing me.  Her gaze held my eyes steadily and she unzipped her skirt, let it fall.  I looked down, saw her hook thumbs in the elastic of her thong, a dark wetness spreading visibly from her cunt, staining the scant scrap of fabric hiding her slit.  I continued to stare at her crotch as she rolled them down her hips, past her thighs, let them fall to her ankles.  I looked up and she continued to watch me as she stepped out of them. I broke our gaze to watch as she rubbed both hands briefly in the cleft of her thighs, spread her legs slightly and pulled apart the swollen lips of her cunt inches in front of my face.  I could smell her sweetness, heard the liquid folds part and slide across themselves. She put her hands to my shoulders, urged me back into the leather of the couch.  She took one of the decorative couch pillows, placed it across my thigh, rested one knee on the sofa bench and with sweet awkwardness, laid face down across my knees, her ass presented, raised on my lap.

I ran fingers into her hair, gently stoking her scalp.  My other hand slid across the dorsal planes of her back, her butt, her thighs.  I spread her just a bit, fingered her again lightly, savoring the gift of this presentation, letting anticipation of the spanking focus the nervous tension I’d developed when broaching my desires.  I felt her relax also as she shifted a bit, found a more comfortable perch across my thighs.  I started kneading her butt, loosening the glutes, the hips.  There would be time to discuss specifics later. Her silent eloquence was surely enough for now.

I quit stroking her hair, wound it in a firm grip, circled my other hand squarely on her ass selecting the target of my first stroke.  Then I raised my hand, took a moment to see the whole of her, felt the slight flexing of her anticipation, a merest rise of her hips, her fingers dimpling the leather bench cushion where she gripped it harder.

I let my hand fall upon her, the first smack feeling stiff, not quite on target.  It took a few strokes to find the curve of her flesh, to cup my palm the essential degree needed to mirror her geometry.  I proceeded slowly this time savoring the freedom I now took as my right, no longer a sly thief of my pleasure.  Intermittently I fingered Jane, appreciating the slight adjustments she made each time, opening her thighs just slightly, increasing the exposure of her cunt to my touch.  Smelled the sweetness of her pussy wafted to me on currents of moist hot air rising from her reddened flesh.

I spanked her this way for what seemed a long time, was becoming concerned that she was not truly enjoying this.  Her ass was crimson and my own hand was stinging from the repeated blows.  She’d not said a word, had made virtually no sound other than that very slight hissing as she had previously.  I was about to stop, sure that she had tired of the play when I recognized with astonishment the unmistakable onset of her orgasm, the building tension of her hips, tight quivering of the thighs, bare intake of breath.  I don’t know for sure;  I think I moaned.  Perhaps it was her.  I pulled harder on her hair, arched her back more tightly and continued smacking her ass, renewed the force of my steady rhythm;  let her focus on stoking the orgasm rather than anticipate my hand.  And then she exploded, groaning, writhing in an orgasm as powerful as any I could recall.  I put my hand up her cunt, let her ride my hand through the spasms, felt the orgasm subsiding, though she seemed unable to keep her ass from gyrating, whether from residual contractions or the burning of her ass was unclear.

Almost this was enough for me but there was another proof I desired tonight and, as I had in fact yet to cum myself, I determined to proceed.  I pulled her off my lap, let her sink to the floor again between my legs.

“Please take off your blouse love, and then my shoes.”  Kneeling, her thighs split wide so that I could see the lips of her pussy parted beneath the red fuzz of her pubic thatch, she reached to the hem of her blouse cross-handed and, in that delightful manner of women, peeled it overhead in a single stroke.  Jane’s breasts flashed into view in a heart-stopping instant, pressed together by the motion of the blouse lifted inside-out over her head.  She then bent to attend to my shoes.  I unbuckled, opened my slacks, let her peel them off with my underwear; unbuttoned my shirt.  I slid one foot between her legs, lifted it to nestle the broad arch against her cunt, rubbed it a bit, let her grind her cunt onto it.  Then I took her head in both hands and brought her mouth down onto my cock to the limit of her ability to take me, felt her barely contain the reflexive gag, eased back minutely, held her there as she nibbled lightly at the base of my cock.  As she sucked me to a painful hardness I spoke softly to her.

“You say I’m free to do anything I want.  I think you know, can understand, that I can’t really believe that just yet.  But the offer, the intent, feels very close to what I’ve been thinking about all week. I’ve never really assumed permission with a lover before, as much as I’ve wanted, in ways that I’ve barely even hinted about.  And I want to, badly, with you.  So I’m going to lay you over the arm of this couch now. I want you to wait while I get some lubricant. When I get back, I want you to spread your cheeks for me.  I want to practice again what we talked about the last time, about keeping your ass offered to my touch.  I want to loosen you up a little with my fingers, want you to fuck my fingers into your ass, and when I’ve opened you, I’m going to fuck you in your ass.”

I lifted her off my cock, let her rise.  She walked round to the edge of the couch where she bent, rested her belly over the cushioned arm, turned her head to face out from the couch seat, removing strands of hair from her face.

“May I touch my pussy while you get the lube.”  Had I put to paper my visions of the past week I could not have scripted the sweetness of her request more perfectly.         “Yes my love, but do not let yourself come till I am in you.”  I rose and stood behind her, watched her finger move delicately around the opening of her pussy, saw her spread her folds with two fingers, push the white bud of her clit into view and gently begin rubbing it delicately with a third middle finger.  Her ass glowed crimson, so outrageously crimson that I almost felt guilty. I stood close and could feel heat radiate against my thighs.  I went quickly to the bedroom and fetched the lubricant.

Upon my return, she continued playing with her count another brief moment, spearing three fingers deeply into her slit before removing her fingers, pulling her hands from beneath her belly and bringing them behind her back to spread her cheeks.  Her pussy was now fully engorged and formed a dark red and purple gash framed in the center of her cherry colored cheeks.  I bent lightly and placed the pointed tip of my tongue directly on the tight button of her anus.  The force of the spreading hands helped her retain composure.  I felt her take a deep breath, felt her ass relax even more as she exhaled.  I flipped off the lid, squirted a dollop of the cool gel onto my middle finger, rubbed it against my thumb to warm it and then applied it to her ass.  Again she succeeded in staying open and I felt my finger edging almost without effort into her recesses.

“Now take me in baby, slowly.”  Without her hands on the couch, she could not push very hard, but by tightening her stomach, she was able to arch a bit and push herself onto my finger.

“That’s good, keep fucking it now” and this she did while I reached to her cunt with my other hand and began fingering her sex there.  I withdrew both hands for a moment and squeezed more lube onto my fingers, inserted first two and then three fingers into her ass and resumed masturbating her cunt.  Within a matter of minutes she was again writhing in an orgasm through which I continued to finger fuck her ass deeply.  Three fingers were sliding easily into and out of her and her tempo had grown increasingly frenzied.

“This will not be your first ass fucking will it Jane?”  This was not a question really, it was so obvious.

“No Mitch.  I hope you’re not disappointed.  I like to be ass fucked.  I’ve wanted you in me since we first made love baby.  I can’t wait sweetie.  Please, am I ready?”

“Umm, now baby, now its time.” As I put lube on my dick she continued pumping her pelvis.  I came behind and pressed my dick against her.  Actually, I was relieved this would not be her first time anally.  It freed me to be more aggressive than I’d hoped.  I pushed firmly and sighed as I felt the brief resistance, then the wondrous feeling of her sucking me into the tunnel of her ass.  I paused there a moment, feeling her involuntary tension ease, sensed her breathing deepen as she accustomed herself to the penetration.

“Now love, its time to take you.” I slipped in deep on the first stroke, felt my thigh run up against the hot flesh of her ass and nearly lost it from the feeling of her heat pressed to my crotch.  My god that felt good!  I stayed there for long moments absorbing the heat, marveling at this utterly new sensation, the novelty of spanked flesh, burning hot, pressed against my thighs as I rested, gyrating slightly, sunk to my nuts up her ass. I began drawing out slowly, watched the pleasure on her face as I drew to a point where only the very tip of my cock rested just inside her, the flange of my crown pulling slightly against the pressure by her anal ring clamped around it.  I picked up the rhythm, delightedly stroking to full depth, each time coming to rest on her steaming ass.  I pulled out fully, teasing her anus with little swirls now that it was completely spread, opened to my reentry without any resistance.  I became lost in this repetition, the deep strokes, nuzzling against her burning cheeks, sliding out fully and then in again with solid strokes.  It did not take long.  At the first indication of her anal orgasm I exploded.  My god what a magnificent lover she was