- Added : April 21, 2020
- Words : 1803
- Views : 6 views
The Long Wait
Posie waited. She faced her own front door, kneeling, in her dressing gown. Her knees were parted and her wrists crossed behind her back. She was obeying a man she’d never met. She’d left the door unlocked. Her knees ached.
She’d never done this before. Would he expect her to suck his cock? Her position suggested it. The position he’d told her to assume while she waited.
While they’d been flirting on FaceChat, he’d asked how she felt about blowjobs. She’d said she loved giving and was superkeen and supergood at it. There’d been a long silence. Much longer than she’d expected.
Eventually he’d said, “Bloody hell. Yes, well, obviously I’m going to think that’s good.” Then he’d laughed. It was a good laugh, open, delighted, unselfconscious.
It was that, she thought, that had made her take the risk of meeting him. And of meeting him in her home, not in some neutral place. He’d suggested a coffee bar. When she countered by suggesting her home he’d sounded delighted. And then he’d given her instructions, on how she was to greet him.
So they could back out, either of them. But they weren’t expecting to want to. Posie had waited, now for about twenty minutes. But she’d waited most of her adult life, so far. She’d decided to try to realize – to make real – something she’d dreamed of, lying on her bed, fingers and devices busy, crying out pleasure, but still feeling lonely.
What if he said nothing when he arrived, just unzipped and pushed her head onto his cock? She hoped he’d speak first. That would be nicer. That would be cooler.
But it wouldn’t necessarily be hotter. She wasn’t sure. But if he was the man she’d seen on FaceChat, then she’d already decided she’d take that, open her mouth for him.
She’d be overwhelmed with sensation, full and needed, under his control, not hers.
Her hips moved. She wished she could touch her cunt. Her cunt, wet but empty: yearning. But she’d wait, doing as she’d been told.
He hadn’t told her exactly when he would arrive. He’d just told her to start waiting, facing her door, at six. He would make her wait, of course.
Posie and Sir (his name was Edward, but she’d starting thinking of him, in her own mind, as Sir, though that would really only be decided after they’d met and spent time together) had been talking for weeks since he’d replied to her ad. She felt she knew him quite well.
He could be professorial, but he didn’t take himself too seriously. He made jokes about his own absurdities. They weren’t very funny, but only a sane man would make them. He laughed at her jokes. He’d told her his name and address and where he worked. Those details had checked out. Some men’s hadn’t. He’d lectured her about having a safety call in place before she met anyone, including him.
But she’d told him her address only an hour ago. They lived just a few miles apart. He’d asked her if she’d like a visitor, but then before she could answer, he’d apologized for moving too fast. She’d said, “Yes”, interrupting him.
She’d heard the surprise and pleasure in his voice. But it was gone a few seconds later. He’d told her how she was to meet him, and that he’d punish her if she hadn’t complied exactly.
When she took her place, on her knees for him, she’d felt, for the first time in her life, that she was obeying. She was submitting. Even that knowledge of her own mental state was pleasurable.
When he arrived she’d be looking up at him, her body presented for him. As if it was responding to that thought her gown fell open. She could move her hands and close it. But he’d told to assume her position and not move. That’d be cheating; it would be no way to begin.
She heard someone’s steps near her door. Her heart thumped with anticipation, and just a little fear.
The door opened. Posie looked up at him. He was taller than she’d expected, blond, with a ridiculously fashionable haircut. He wore jeans and a good jacket. He’d sent pictures, but you never know until you actually meet someone. He smelled of walnuts, she thought. Walnuts and oiled wood.
He smiled at her, and her heart lifted. She’d been afraid of what he’d think of her. He said, as if he were surprised, “God, Posie, you’re beautiful! And you’ve done as you’re told. You’re lovely. And good.”
She gaped at him, embarrassed, happy. She had nothing to say back. She couldn’t think.
He reached for her head. Posie opened her mouth, expectantly, but he grabbed a handful of her hair. “Stand,” he said. She fumbled, trying to obey but clumsy, and he eventually pulled her up himself. His eyes were still kind, but there was something about his mouth. He said, “Put your hands by your sides. Now, please.”
She obeyed, frowning. Should she obey? Then she felt his hand land on her bottom.
The skin buzzed where he’d made contact. She’d let a man smack her. Now he smiled. “When I tell you to do something …”
“I do it, quickly?”
He smacked her again. Her bottom … No, her cunt felt it. She’d imagined this many times, using both hands as she thought of it, till she came. The reality was as confusing and as arousing as she’d hoped. She felt the sex of it, the heat, the need it brought her, deep inside.
His arms held her. He was warm. He stroked her, where he’d spanked. Then he let his finger slip between her buttocks, to stroke her cunt gently. Posie gasped, and straightened, still in his arms. He was testing how wet she was, she thought. Then: No, he knows that I’m wet.
He’s showing me he isn’t going to ask for my permission to touch me. She leant her head against his shirt, kissed his chest.
He said, “That’s right. Obedience means obeying quickly. Which reminds me: are you expecting your safety call?”
Oh, shit! He’d stressed it, but she’d already decided he was ok.“No. I–No, I forgot.”
He nodded, as if resigned. He let her go—she wanted his body back—and sat on the couch.
He looked up, and indicated his knees. “Posie, I’m glad you trust me, but… First, I told you to have a safety call. You agreed that you do as you’re told. That’s how this works. Second, not having one is stupid and irresponsible. Come here.”
Posie came to him. She looked at him, not sure whether she was afraid or if she was teasing him. “You’re going to spank me for trusting you?”
“Not for trusting me. For disobeying me, and for being silly about safety calls. This is the last time I’ll repeat this order: come here.”
Come here, Posie thought. Here. I’m going to come, with you, here on my couch, for the first time. She felt light-headed. “This is when you tell me to bend over?”
“Just lower yourself over my thighs. Use your fingers and toes to keep yourself steady. Make sure you’re comfortable. I’m going to spank you. But you’ll be ok. I’ll look after you.”
That made no sense. But Posie put her hand on his shoulder and leaned forward. He helped her down. She wriggled, exploring her new position, amazed that she might become used to it. He pushed the robe to her shoulders. She felt the air on her body. “One more thing. When I give you an order, I want you to say, Yes, sir. Just before you obey me. Can you do that?”
“Uh.” Posie felt his hand, stroking her bottom. Then the lightest warning pat. “Yes, sir,” she said quickly.
“Yes, sir.” Posie shuffled, opening for him. His cock was hard, under her belly. He wanted her. Well, that made them even.
His hand landed. The impacts moved from left to right, lower and higher, in a steady, unchanging rhythm. Slowly the smacks got harder, and Posie could feel the heat. She must be red by now. There was pain, then more. Why was this heaven? She began to rock herself on his lap, pressing against his cock.
He spanked her hard now, so that it hurt, really hurt. It was still heaven. She made a throaty noise. At last he stopped. She felt his fingers trailing down into the cooler skin between her buttocks, and slid her feet a little further apart. He said, “Beautiful girl. Good girl.”
His fingers entered her, reaching deep, then pressing downwards. Oh god. He stroked her, pressing his thumb against her cunt, his fingers fucking her. Reaching deep inside her.
“Oh,” Posie said, then, much later, “Ohf!” The sweetness surged and took her. Her orgasm cry reminded her of a wolf under the moon.
She gasped, head up, savage, then let her head fall forward and down, while he stroked her. He was pleased with her, she knew.
He kept her on his lap, praising her, stroking her. Finally he let her go, and she sank onto her knees before him, looking up at his eyes.
He smiled down at her.
“I seem to remember, when we were talking. On the phone. You mentioned amazing fellatio skills.”
In her bed, when she’d lost count of her orgasms and her body burned, she found herself sitting up, her back to him, his cock pressed against her ass.
He spread her legs, and put his right hand on her cunt. He patted, and the pats became blows. She knew, in her conscious mind, that he was spanking her cunt quite hard.
But it didn’t hurt at all.
His voice sounded strained, urgent: “Say, thank you, sir!”
And, lost, when his hand next landed, fingers spread on her soft, wet self, Posie wailed, “Thank you, Master!”
She felt him hardening. “I think you’re right.” He sounded surprised.
Later, her face in a pillow, her ass up, being ridden, she howled again, a ululation of pleasure and of something wrenching, shifting inside her.
When she was finished he rode her hard, seeking only his own pleasure. She felt his whole body spasm when he came in her. She’d pleased him. That mattered.
When his body had relaxed he kissed her ear and rolled to lie beside her, his arm over her body.
“You called me Master.”
She felt a chill. He was going to be sensible now. Restore sense. “I did. I’m sorry, I know you didn’t ask me to. It just felt right.”
“We’ll talk about it in the morning.” Her heart sank. “But if you meant it, then I’m happy to be –”
Posie wriggled back towards him, her skin against his. She thought about sucking him hard again, but he’d fallen asleep.
In the morning they’d talk. But he’d taken her, and when she’d given him more he’d taken that too. Maybe she had a Master, and… He’d made her wait half an hour. Well, she’d waited for half an hour and thirty-four years. She followed him into sleep.