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Perfectly Poised Precision.  

davepman 53M
12 posts
11/13/2020 6:52 am
Perfectly Poised Precision.

The first time they’d met for a drink, Dave leaned into her ear and told her to remove her panties. The lurching thrill in her stomach started before she even got off the bar stool, and it had registered between her legs by the time she got to the last cubicle. Hastily shutting the door, she had to wipe her own wetness away, meticulously ensuring the fabric remained unstained. She crumpled them up tightly and returned to hand them over wordlessly, watching as he put them in his pocket.

“Keep your knees apart please.” His voice was monotone as she sat on the stool next to him, facing him so that he could see the stretched fabric of her severe work dress taught against her bare thighs. Her legs dangled, feet heavy with shoes, wanting to them off and walk barefoot behind him, follow him to his den of iniquity. She was sure it was full of things with which he could tether and tie her into positions of pleasure, where she could stay rigid and still for as long as would make him happy.

Indeed, she was correct.

Later that night, he’d introduced her to a light flogging. he lazily teased her clit, rolled his fingers around it, giving the front of her body a soft, slow contrast of sensation to the rapid paddling her cheeks were receiving. His spanking arm upswept in a rhythm that kept the heat rising through her body until it reached her face, which betrayed the strain of needing release. He turned her over and pushed himself into her. She squelched open like a cooked fruit, dying in the sauce of her own sweetness.

As that red realm died away, he tweaked her nipples, pinching them enough to bring her wriggling into consciousness, registering his voice. He told her she would never, ever forget to ask permission again. No orgasm would move through her until she’d begged it from him. The full stop of twisted delight enveloped her and she’d nodded, and after that, her addiction to him increased in response to his ability to catch her in mid-flight with perfectly poised precision.

She was back. Her working week was obliterated the moment she wordlessly handed him her thong, like handing over a key to someone who knew exactly how to turn it in her lock. Dave leaned towards her, this time to place his hand inside her thigh. A fraction of his fingers were lost beneath her skirt. She could feel their proximity against her bare, slutty mound, too far away to touch, too close for comfort, and she picked up her glass, all the while talking, drinking, and watching him in anticipation.

Her slit was breathing its aroma on him and the presence of his hand had the effect of drawing her awareness more keenly to the people around them. She knew exactly where the bartender was standing, heard the voices and conversations of the other patrons – everything came into stark focus. She was struggling against the risk of exposure, that someone would notice his hand, sense what she was. She felt that mixture of fear and pleasure in her belly moving like some beast pounding to get out. It was as if a head of desire would erupt from between her legs to shout that she was not what she appeared to be. She truly wasn’t sure what she was. That’s why David’s mastery fascinated her and had her coming back for more.

He gulped down his ale. Standing abruptly she felt his hand lifting, it was tucked under her hem. She had to grab down to stop it cleaving up the skirt into an open void. she managed to smooth herself quickly. It was seemingly accidental and he grinned at her as she jumped, having to react to protect her enclosed lust from being put on view. She followed him out, hoping he’d take her directly somewhere more private. She was already warm with the anticipation of it.

David's strides down the street were fast and she took quick steps, tapping to keep up as he walked. They left the bar as people continued to spill onto the sidewalks from offices, stepping into their weekends, talking on phones, normal people, other people. He was comfortably walking to a place they’d eaten before and his gait kept pace with his growing hunger.

She was finding it hard to keep up, tottering on shoes made for carpeted offices, clinical spaces, padded and muted sounds. These shoes weren’t crafted to run after her desires so obviously. Or perhaps they were.

Dave finally slowed and waving to the waiter who smiled and nodded as they took a secluded table facing away from the crowd. It was in the corner. As she sat down, he held her chair out for her, and the Friday night sounds of people released from the working slog wafted over her. She was happy, tucked away from everyone, and David moved his chair so that it was beside her, the table in front of them. He lazily placed his arm around her shoulder, fingering the fabric of her shirt. To others it looked sweet as he leaned in, whispering something in her ear. From behind, it appeared that he flicked something off the front of her shirt. He had, in fact opened a button so that her bra was now partially visible. It looked as if she’d simply not realized it’d come undone, seductive in its innocence. She uncrossed her legs, back straight, knees apart, her eyes ahead.

Dave ordered for her. He’d lean in occasionally to pick up morsels from her plate and feed her with deference, lavishing attention on her, always talking and laughing. After everything was cleared and he took another sip of his drink. He put the glass down and played his fingers over her throat, down onto her chest, and into her open shirt. He fondled and squeezed while she continued to sit and breathe, leaning her head in slightly at his touch.

Lovingly, gently, it was but a shadow of a reminder of what could be done to her body, and though nobody noticed, she felt as though the whole world could see his fingers stroking beneath her shirt. She thought she’d gush and leave a damp patch behind; her cheeks flushed with shame and pleasure. Guilty, gorgeous images played through her mind – him spanking her, slapping her breasts to make them dance. His touch, his smell, and his voice thrumming over her body combined into a hypnotic effect, untying the strings that usually had her bound in obsessive, career success and appropriate behavior.

As he the bill and made to leave, she went to button herself. He smacked her hand away. Her lids instantly lowered in response and she felt everything move to slow motion as they left. Truly, it was hard to know if anybody but the waiter noticed, but the knowledge that anyone could look up at her disheveled shirt, her imperfection, and see her opened up, had her delightfully embarrassed. Certainly there was more cleavage to be seen flashed by girls in the city with low cut dresses and revealing tops when they went clubbing, but this was different. There was something more succulent about a business shirt in disarray than sexy, tight, purposeful plumage. This was her work shirt, opened; this was her style, torn; and it seemed so obvious that she was being ordered around.

The intensity glowered off her body. She loved the languid torment he was putting her through. They walked to the corner and he hailed a cab. She slipped in first and she was relieved to hear him give his address to the driver. The car started as his fingers undid the rest of her buttons and pulled up her shirt, untucking it from her skirt, and giving him unencumbered access to her upper body. Almost imperceptibly, he flicked the lace of her bra and she knew exactly what he wanted. Slowly, her hands reached up and pulled the soft cups down so that her breasts jiggled out free.

The cab driver adjusted his mirror to look and Dave said nothing as he pinched her nipple, stretching it away from her body until she was forced to lean forward with his pulling fingers, scrunching her eyes. Contorting her face brought relief, because through slitted lids she could avoid seeing the cabbie. She could hear him snort and chuckle as his eyes kept moving and again the mirror was adjusted unashamedly towards her, his attention shifting back and forth from the traffic to the backseat.

Dave notice to her other nipple with the same pinching and pulling, stretching it, impossibly lengthening her areola so that it looked like some sort of crazy, pinkish cone protruding from her. He fiddled it viciously between his fingers and then, in one movement, he released her into the afterpain. Without pause, he shoved her head down, rubbing her face over the crotch of his still closed pants so she could feel and imagine, worship and know that he would use her any way he chose. The anticipation mixed with the utter degradation made for a heady combination and she was losing herself rapidly. Shame was receding, trust was growing.

“Skirt,” he barked simply. She struggled to shimmy it up her legs. Skirt went up, head was pushed down, and his hand rested on the back of her head. She crumpled the poor thing up over her bare arse lifting and sitting back down on the cracked, fake leather of the cab seat. Dave moved his hand and, reaching down the length of her back, he squeezed her and reached playing fingers between her cheeks, stroking her scrunched up, tight hole, pressing at it intermittently. He was staring out the window now and her face remained on his lap, turned so her cheek rested on a semi-firm cock—the disappointment in its lack of interest was simply a signal that he would remain devoid of any sympathy. She relished his cruelty.

“Hey, why don’t we go through that drive-through at Tim Hortons,” Dave said. “Do you know the one I mean? It’s on the way.”

The cabbie nodded and laughed in response, knowing exactly what Dave meant. She closed her eyes. She was in tune to his subtle game of using her vulnerability to establish power, her exposure was a reminder that he would share her at whim if he so chose, with any passer by. She knew he was toying, testing to see if she’d stop the game, and she tortured herself with thoughts of pulling down her skirt and doing up her blouse. But instead, she remained as she was.

A few moments later, they entered the pathway of the drive-through, the crunch of painstakingly slow moving tires audible through the open windows. Dave shoved her body upwards and off him so he could get his wallet. He proffered a large note to the wide-eyed college youth who leaned down, craning to get a better view. she was disheveled, squeezing her elbows together, her skirt barely covering her ass, sitting next to Dave, who was in full business casual. Evening had arrived and the lights of cars flashed across the skin of her throat, her eyelids lowered. The college was only just able to pull away to fill the order. As he turned from the window, he could hear a growled “knees apart!” from the car.

“Keep the change,” said Dave as the youth leaned in to give the man his coffee and also to see if indeed the woman had opened her legs up. She turned her head away as he caught a glimpse of her, the car seat a visible V between her thighs. Then the car, along with its intriguing occupants, left him alone at his post. Other horns honked for attention and he struggled to take in new orders as thoughts of her strange, meek manner playing through his mind, tugging at his own helpless member.

“You can pull around back,” he said, and her sigh was audible with relief, as she knew Dave wouldn’t likely let her tidy up just to enter the house. She had been dreading the walk up the sidewalk towards the front door. Quiet street or not, there was risk, constant risk.

They exited the cab. She stood still, waiting for David to the driver. She knew it was against his wishes to adjust her clothing, and in the dim light, she knew the cabbie could see all the way to the tops of her thighs. The cabbie was grinning stupidly until he glanced at her face and she fixed him with an unholy stare. In that single moment, he beheld her frightening abandon. He audibly cleared his throat and scurried away, realizing he didn’t have the confidence to either understand or approach a woman like her.

She stood aside and walked defiantly behind David as they headed inside. Her resolve, of course, was quaking as soon as she entered the house.

She breathed relief as she entered the kitchen and finding it easier to obey in private she went and stood in front of the sink, standing erect she was eager after having run a gauntlet simply to attain some privacy.

“I’m sure you enjoyed that, you dirty little slut,” he said as he opened the door for her. He closed it and locked it and strode past her, not bothering to give her instructions as he left the kitchen. Her adoration grew palpably as she stood neglected in the impeccably tidy kitchen. She could hear him tread down the hallway, and then the sound of drawers and doors opening.

Dave emerged a few minutes later, having taken off the slacks. Bare-chested he was dressed in those black jeans she adored. She yearned to kiss the stretched skin over his tight bulge, worshiping as he’d taught her, moving down his legs so she could finish her kisses on the top of his boot. She knew that his firm body, muscles and vitality would all be used to outstay her, flay her until she was but a pool of nothing waiting to be opened up wide. Only after all of this, would he perhaps grace her with his cock, freed from its black stronghold, and pushed into any of her needy places. But that would come later, much later, if at all. Between now and then there were other games, other shames, that he would inflict with abandon on her wanting selflessness.

“Undress, fold your clothes, and put them in the laundry. Shoes too,” he said.

She quickly, neatly undressed, put her things in the laundry room, and reentered the kitchen in her natural state. Dave had crop in hand. She positioned herself without being asked, bending over the table and offering her bare bottom up to be spanked. It was a prelude, an appetizer. Standing back, attending to one side at a time, he paused to allow each crack to smart before laying another. The first was deliberately hard, ensuring a shock, and the sting rose for a moment before the next was delivered, and then the next. The pain of the spanking started to move from sting to heat, and the threat of orgasm began to unfold and emanate as her body lay prone on the flat wood. He stopped. He left feeling tender and frustrated, her apple-red arse glowing hot.

He moved languorously around her, his tall, lean body at ease. she remained still and felt him push a plug into her behind, fulfilling the promise that he’d fingered there earlier in the cab. He did this, casually ignoring the effort it took her to accept it. He turned her and had her stand in the kitchen at the ready -- and like any good chef, he had all of his ingredients at hand.

First, he attached nipple clamps. The small chain that dangled from them were familiar to her from a previous get together. However, it was the sight of pegs that caused her to blanch. Why did household items hold so much more of a greater taboo for her than items meant for this type of play? She watched, breathless, as he stood in front of her, allowing the silence to reveal the creaking of a wooden peg as he opened and closed it in front of her eyes. She realized he had bundle of them and he set to work on her breasts, telling her how much they deserved to be punished, telling her that the stretching and marking of her skin was something she richly deserved for being such a wanton tart who was only good to be used by him and others like him. He reminded her of how she’d had to learn to ask permission and show gratitude, and the memory of her first time with him was stamping itself onto her with every pinch.

She leaned her squeezing, raw buttocks against the edge of the table behind her as he ringed each breast with a sun shape of pegs radiating outwards. He worked around her areola, the center of each looking like a merry daisy clamped with their decorations, and because he’d taken his sweet time, she now trembled slightly as all her body concentrated on the tightness and pulling, her two globes flowering in sensual pain.

Dave had a fine knowledge of the balance required to push her limits while pleasuring her. He dipped his fingers in and out of her mouth before moving to the moisture at her apex to repeat the same thing there. She pushed her shoulders back, standing like a strained plant with blooming breasts, and she wallowed in the sharpness as she started to melt and drip when he pressed his fingers against her clit

Her head was awash in the giddy shame of it, for in truth, it wasn’t unbearable. The theater he created for her was far more significant.

Dave, sensing her softening too much, reached to a drawer and pulled out a mirror so she could see herself. He showed her her breasts, and turning her,made her crane to see her plugged assehole before he started to unclip her. He remarked on how wonderful her body was when it was used, when it was marked, how extraordinarily well she was designed for this exact purpose. When finished, he handed her the mirror and told her to look. She saw the marks reddening and pocking her skin in circles. She stared at herself while he left the room.

Returning a moment later, he was nude. She stared at his curls, cock, the balls she wanted to suck, his powerful legs, his beautiful, bare skin. She silently begged that he relieve her, fuck her. She clenched her buttocks instead of voicing her need, hoping he wouldn’t see her attempt at self pleasuring. He held clips that she knew would be for her nether lips and she moistened at the thought. He also held chains, and she couldn’t guess what the silver circlet a few inches in diameter was for, but she was utterly ready to find out.
His lovely, lithe body knelt before her and she remained still as he clipped her labia, the tender skin responding to his hands and the hardness of the instruments. He allowed the chain to drop and she arched her back slightly as she felt the tantalizingly torturous tugging. It wasn’t nearly as sharp as the peg rounds she’d just endured on her breasts. The idea of hanging something from between her legs, the brushing of chains against her thighs, made her face retain the same warm glow that her arse did from its priming attentions.

Dave must’ve realized she was enjoying it, as he removed the little dick she’d been holding hidden in her behind. He abruptly walked out and she knew it was part of his play. She knew he could leave the house, leave her here, literally hanging, and that she would wait, naked, weighted, and starving for him. She leaned away from the table and swayed back and forth, allowing the chains to swing free. Looking down, she could see them as well as feel them, forward and backward, moving her hips while she waited. The swinging highlighted the minutiae of her bondage, the clips rubbing against her fuller outer labia, and the weight, the circlet, hung from the ends of the chains, glinting in the light. The combined sensations allowed her to revel in who she was in that moment, she felt her own utter abandonment to the pleasure of it. How easily he’d commanded her, with barely a word, stripping layers off of her in front of gross strangers, further stripping her here against the table.

Was it minutes? She didn't know. He returned, carrying an opened bottle of wine and a squat, silver goblet. He poured some and drank it before positioning himself in front of her. She took in the sight of his body, forearms, shoulders, every beautiful inch of him as he squatted. He placed the goblet so it sat in the circlet, steadying it so it would stop swinging between her legs. She looked down and could see the apparatus hanging from her and she fixed her eyes on his genitals, as they also swung freely.
The goblet hung around her knees and she instinctively bent them outwards, holding the vessel perfectly. He carefully poured the wine, a little at a time, allowing her to bear the adjustments until she cried out “Company!” quickly followed by “Thank you, Master.” He held the cup steady but didn’t ease it at all as she bore his cup for him. He’d intended to unfasten her and have her attempt to walk the cup to him so she could serve him, but her legs quivered, and although she held her body steady, he felt it was adequate for now.
He leaned back and admired her for a long moment, allowing himself the gratification of looking up at her magnificence as she took herself beyond time and space simply because he’d deigned to play with her. She could barely stand being empty, wanting him or anything to fill her up, and he could see how shiny and moist she was. He couldn’t resist reaching his fingers inside, slipping past her tortured lips and into her, hearing her breath stifle a moan deep in her chest.

He remained wordless as he reached down and picked up the goblet, watching her skin retract in relief as he lifted it to his lips and drank before lifting it to her mouth so she could take a draught also. Placing the goblet on the table, he took the chains and pulled them apart, she bent her thighs outward in response. He placed his swollen head up against her and slipped it just inside her cleft as her chest heaved. She found it difficult now, laboring in her stillness, as he hadn’t given her permission and she was aching to push and take him in fully.

She loved this, she wanted to open her mouth and beg, tell him how she’d do anything for just a little more thickness inside her. Dave knew and wanted to prolong her abandon so he dropped away and an involuntary hiss came from her with the unexpected release of the nether clips.

Lifting her onto the edge of the table, he positioned her so he could enter her again, this time pushing his entire length into her in one movement. She swallowed him up, her belly pulling her legs back so he could angle more depth. She inhaled him into her body. He relished the energy of her tightening like a vice around him, and the rippling of his length was exquisite before the torque erupted in a series of growling pulses as he machined the last of himself at her. He released an unrepentant violence of flesh, thrusting into her, his hands gripping, teeth gritted.

She, through clenched jaw, whispered, “Master, may I?” Unable to see his face now buried in her hair, she heard his answer: “Sure,” as casual as if she’d asked him to pass the salt. Nothing betrayed the intensity he felt at that moment.
“Thank you, thank you,” she grunted the words until her voice was an unintelligible and he could feel her insides flood and he went past his own point of no return, continuing until she felt like a floppy doll, both of them breathing hard.

He leaned back to see her reddened lips as they clung to his receding size, her still marked body prettily sitting there remaining open, and he couldn’t resist a hearty slap on her thigh before stepping back and leaning against the bench behind him. He picked up the bottle and poured more wine into the goblet. she gingerly got off the table, her face serene and peaceful, allowing moments to pass before she went to the bathroom to bring back warm moist towels. When she returned, she knelt before her Sir to wipe him clean. She then tidied herself and accepted a glass of wine from him.

“Why don’t you retire?” he told her, and later, when he went to the bedroom, he looked down at her naked form for a while. He lay awake for a few minutes, pondering whether she’d benefit in her training from an ankle strap chaining her there. He decided that, with time, she just might -- but for now, she was progressing well.

The next day dawned and he had her doing domestic duties. He liked her on all fours, so that’s how he had her scrub his floor while he watched from behind, ensuring she kept her knees apart. Cleaning his bathroom, cleaning the kitchen, light tasks designed to immerse her in service. Occasionally, she received a hearty spanking, over his knee, for not being thorough. It must’ve been enjoyable to her because he was sure she was missing things deliberately and he chuckled inwardly. He decided that her<b> performance </font></b>from the night before was such a success, and she’d been so willing a slut for him, today the play would be easy. No point in breaking down more than a bit at a time, and she was becoming something quite lovely to be enjoyed every weekend.

It continued this way and by Sunday afternoon, she was physically exhausted. He sat on the back porch step, fully clothed, beer in hand, the naked skin of his cock protruding. She was squatting in front him, sucking diligently. His yard was reasonably private, with a high fence, although if someone had looked over or come in unexpectedly, they’d have seen her naked, hands clasped behind her back, knees apart, head bobbing up and down. He knew she benefited most when there was a threat of being seen by others, and Dave pondered this while her mouth and tongue worked. He felt the need to spew into her throat, watching as she swallowed him completely.

Her mouth sullied, he ordered her to tidy the bedroom and specifically said she must not touch herself, knowing this would make her need to masturbate stronger. In the bedroom, his taste, together with the smell of him on the bed sheets, made her feel horny and desperate. She was too tired to realize that he’d deliberately wished to catch her, as half an hour later he did, holding and sniffing her hand, wet with herself.
He pulled her up and threw her onto the bed, face-down, for a round of hard slaps. Again, he timed it well, and she was fit to be tied before he turned her on her back so her freshly spanked cheeks would shift and smart against the bed while he pushed his ready largesse into her wetness. He slid in easily, no resistance, just warmth and they fucked like any couple, missionary-style, until she was again asking his permission. Dave didn’t bother to hesitate or make her wait -- he was already coming. He clenched out a fast “Yes,” and they both started to move together. He timed his thrusts to her convulsions as her body arched together with his.
He sent her home after that with final words telling her he had no further use for her that day.

Monday morning brought a new world and she was up well before the sun. She scrubbed herself down in the shower, removing her weekend and enjoying her freshness. She adored her crisp clothing and was ready quickly. Collecting breakfast on the way, she was at her desk by 7.30, already putting together her day’s work and checking her schedule.


davepman 53M

11/20/2020 12:22 pm

    Quoting  :

Why thank you for your kind words hun!


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