Fantasy

Sometimes I write my own fantasies instead of yours….

She dressed in the outfit that he’d picked out.  It was no surprise that He’d chosen an impossibly short dress in the most violent shade of pink.  She’d roll her eyes had she not purchased it with Him in mind.  My how things had changed.

It had been a hellishly long week, and she found herself loath to spend any extra energy getting ready.  Truthfully she’d rather bail on dinner and spend the evening at His mercy- He would free her from the burden of (and capacity for) thought quickly, and she could spend the rest of the weekend blissfully relaxed.  Alas, He insisted that they go to dinner- it was her friend’s birthday after all- but had promised her the freedom she craved at the end of the night, if she was good.

She slipped the dress over a black PVC corset and conspicuously absent panties.  The corset was mercifully covered by the dress- their little secret- but the absence of panties and the shortness of dress meant that her movements would have to be quite deliberate throughout the evening.  She spritzed her signature scent, which always served to ground her amid the discomfort that His outfit choices occasionally caused.  

She didn’t want to put makeup on, and she certainly didn’t want to straighten her curls- but she knew that the times when she didn’t want to made her obedience all the more important.  Her brief irritation and inconvenience were well worth the way that He looked at her when she’d pleased him.  He had been kind to her this week, giving her more leeway than usual as she navigated a frustratingly uphill battle at work.  She took advantage of tonight’s opportunity to thank Him.

He was waiting for her in the living room, posture relaxed as He finished up some emails.  He looked absolutely delicious, and yet again she considered making a case to bail.  She knew that it wasn’t her decision so instead waited beside Him.  She remained silent with hands clasped behind her back, waiting for His acknowledgement.  She resisted the urge to squirm, and even more so the urge to touch Him- it was constant when they were in the same room.  She was drawn to Him like a magnet, perpetually desperate for even the slightest piece of His attention.  

He finished His work unhurried, obviously enjoying the opportunity to torture her.  At long last, she earned His gaze.  He took His time taking her in, starting with her heels.  She could already see the whisper of His self-satisfied smirk, as He knew she hated them.  His eyes climbed up her tanned legs, lingering at the hem of her dress- no doubt considering her nakedness just above it.  His eyes hugged her every curve, lingering on her cleavage until she blushed.  When His eyes finally met hers, she felt as if she’d burst into flame.

He stood wordlessly, taking His time crossing the gap between them.  She bit her tongue to resist the urge to lob a witty comment to break the tension- a habit that He had squashed with some strategic use of corner time and a few bruises on her ass.

He ran His fingers through her straightened hair, His thumb over her pink painted lips.  She instinctively opened her mouth, holding His gaze as her throat held His fingers.  She took a deep breath when He allowed it, his fingers reaching between her legs.  His growl of approval at her nakedness almost unravelled her.  

In one fluid motion, His hand moved from threatening her clit to closing around her neck as He pushed her against the wall.  

“I would really, really like to ruin that pretty face of makeup, but I will wait until we get home.”

She could smell her own need on His fingers.  She met His grounding gaze as she tried to regulate her restricted breath.  

“What are your rules tonight?” He asked.

She swallowed with difficulty in an effort to collect herself.  His touch, His presence, made her head swim.  “No leg crossing.  Drink at least two glasses of water.  Send a photo of me touching myself at some point in the evening.”

“Good girl.  One more: no swearing,” He said with a smile.  She was still having difficulty with this particular rule, and He very much enjoyed the look on her face when she fucked messed up. 

“Yes, Sir,” she replied, her smirk betraying both annoyance and determination.  

He held her by the throat a few more seconds for good measure, knowing it was having an immediate impact between her legs.  He kissed her deeply as He let go, the rush of air and of Him making her head spin.  He replaced His hand around her neck with an antique pendant.  His initials were engraved on the backside, and her fingers grasped it as He did it up.  She immediately felt more grounded- imagine that. 

“You look beautiful, by the way,” He said as He took her hand and led her to the car.

The drive was filled with animated conversation as they caught up after busy weeks.  She was getting used to having her tits exposed in the car, even though each time He casually grazed a nipple she shivered head to toe.  When they were five minutes out she fixed her dress, and His hand refocused between her legs for a moment before it returned to the wheel.

She waited for Him to open her door, another lesson that was difficult to learn.  It was made easier in these circumstances, as the assistance with getting out of the car in heels was appreciated.  He locked the car, then grabbed her by the hand and drew her in.  His arms wrapped around her tightly, His kiss a promise of much, much more to come.  When He let her go, breathless and smiling, He pressed something cold into her hand.

“Put this in your purse, then put it in your ass before we leave,” He whispered.

—

Dinner was fun, and she found herself grateful that He didn’t let her bail.  He ordered their drinks and their dinner, her friends laughing at her very typical delegation of decision making.  They both joined in on the joke, the electricity of the truth rippling between them.  She idly touched His pendant at her neck, the ghost of her smile not lost on Him.  

He could see her relaxing throughout dinner- it always happened when she was around people she loved, and when she was leaning on Him.  He smoothed the way for her to laugh and chat with her friends, smiling at the ease with which she held His hand or stole a kiss.  She had come a long way in the realm of casual intimacy, particularly among friends and family.

He effortlessly blended into the group’s fabric, with a piece of His attention always focused on her- passively ensuring her legs stayed open, maintaining a mental count of her hydration.  She was on pace to receive some well-deserved rewards.  When she excused herself to use the washroom, He resisted the urge to follow her, instead reveling in the way her ass moved as she walked.  When His phone buzzed in His pocket a moment later, He smiled.  Good girl.

She returned to the table moments later, her practiced nonchalance fooling everyone but Him.  Conversation turned to sports, and she animatedly debated her team’s chances with one of her friend’s husbands.  When she swore, He felt her body tense.  Their eye contact was brief, but potent.  He saw annoyance first- at His rule or herself, it was unclear (knowing her, likely both).  Acceptance quickly followed in the form of a smile- while hers was laced with apology, the one He returned held nothing but promise.

She excused herself to the washroom once more as everyone settled the bills.  She flashed Him a secret smile when she emerged, taking His arm after hugging her friends goodbye.  His hand drifted down her back, applying just enough pressure on her ass that He could feel the plug.  She bit her lip, and it was all He could do not to bend her over the table.

She clung to Him as they walked back to the car, His strength both a comfort and a threat at this point in the evening.  When they got in the car, He pulled out His phone.

“Let’s see what you sent me,” He said with a knowing smile.  He knew that her face would flush- it did every time she was confronted with her inner Slut.  

The photo was riskier than her usual; taken in the open washroom, her heeled leg braced on the counter as she spread herself for Him.  Her dark hair was a contrast to her tanned skin, and when He zoomed in He could see her glistening for Him.

“You’re mine,” He growled, pulling her in for a kiss.

“Always, Sir,” she replied.

“Good girl.  Now let’s get you home so I can punish you.”

A self-conscious giggle escaped her as she took her tits out of her dress for the ride home.  “Yes, Sir,” she admitted.  Her face was caught between a grimace and a smile- one of His very favourite expressions. 

—