Friday evening, gracious goddess how I love the sound of those two words - Friday evening... almost like a siren call of pleasure. Why do the two words appeal so? Wellthe answer is one word - 'Jess.' All woman, all soft, all perfumed...with a whip and wicked tongue to match. Just thinking about her now makes my heart beat faster, and I can feel the pleasure to come begin to coil between my legs. I've known her three months now; she only allows me Friday evening, then I merely exist until I can see her again.
We met at a friend's birthday party, she wore the cake and offered pieces to be eaten, I know she was supposed to have been a gag gift, but for me it was like an instant trip to heaven. Clichéd I know, but the look in her eyes as I lowered my mouth to her thigh for a lick of chocolate frosting grabbed me and practically had me on the floor begging to be her slave for eternity. Deep brown eyes, black hair tumbling down her back, and those dark hard nipples peeking through the whipped cream...
Friday evening, that's all she allows me, she says it'll keep me 'straight.' All I know is that I live for the moment I walk into her house and she's lounging on the couch in the evening half-light, and I hear her husky whiskey hued voice say, "Strip....".
One word and she has me on my knees, no more will they support me, self-control flies out of the window at the sound of her voice. Kneeling, I can feel her eyes on me, I can just smell her perfume, and the blood in my veins begins to thrum. Concentrating, I stand up again, and defiantly try to stare her in the eye; the room is so quiet I can only hear the sounds of my breathing and thundering heartbeat. Her eyes briefly glitter in the lights of a car passing outside, pupils black, stretched wide to take me in ashamed, I lower my view to lips painted vicious red almost glowing with heat.
"Strip?" She whispers this time, and sits up ready for a show. Yet all that is within me screams for just a touch. Taking a deep breath I step forward, only to be prodded backwards with the tip of a whip. "Strip?" she demands, and with my eyes on hers, my upper lip beginning to bead with sweat, I fight my cuff links, tie and collar, suddenly furiously angry that the butch in me chose today to emerge. The pressure of my strap-on against my clit becomes nearly unbearable as I undo the top of my trousers?
"Leave the boots," she whispers, and then I notice her fingers pinching the erect nipple on her left breast as she watches. Coordination flees, time and memory telescope, my clit becomes rock hard and I shatter the silence that followed her command with the moans of my first orgasm.
Her head jerks up, and towards me she comes?I'm left cringing inside and my skin begins to sing. Softly she trails the frayed tip of a coiled bullwhip around the edges of my clenched fingers; I dare not breathe. Then the next touch comes from behind, a sharp push forward landing me on my knees, my feet caught in a twist of trousers, boxers, suspenders, and the clothing I had wrestled with earlier. Two soft cool hands stroke my shoulders, still she is behind me, planning what, I can only dream.
The hiss of a match being lit, the illumination of a candle, the sound of blinds being pulled to shut out the advancing night. I strain to hear her movement, but hear nothing more than the slight whisper of silk on silk; her perfume still swirls around me, so trying to scent her has no meaning. Once more the cool hands return, a soft moist cloth with them, and I arch my neck at its touch. Gently she wipes me down, always from behind, away from my view yet letting me know exactly who controls me.
Moist cloth, dear cloth, how I would worship thee? guide her fingers inside, let her touch me? fill me? and suddenly I am off in a fantasy? only to be yanked back by a sharp stinging slap to my right buttock.
"Spread wider," comes a whisper almost ethereal, the hands now separate my buttock cheeks "Spread!" she growls. I jerk against the barrier of cloth tying my feet togetherdesperate to offer myself to her, my face hot, sweat trickles down from my hairline. Building again, I feel the need that threatens to consume me biting my lip, I force myself to stop it.
"Stand and take those pants off," comes her voice, the whiskey hue now tempered with the burn of need. Desperately, I turn and furiously tug the clothing over my boots, uncaring if it all tore. Then as in a dreamI bend over to start undoing my bootlaces, only to feel another stinging slap to my right buttock; I freeze, my eyes closed loving that sting, that taste of exquisite pain only she could give me. "I told you to leave the boots," is all she says.
The hands return, positioning me so that I am kneeling in front of the couch, elbows leaning against it, knees spread as far apart as I can get them. A finger casually runs its way down my neck, along my spine, my shoulders, back to my spine, lower, lower, lower?. And in all of this I do not dare a breath, all I want to do is feel?
A soft push to the back of my head leans me forward, forehead to the seat of the couch, my ass raised and displayed to her even more, knees spread impossibly further apart. The soft sound of my breathing going ragged fills the air now. I can see nothing but the floor in front of my eyes, I dare not move, each nerve taut with expectation.
A slight tugging at my side begins, and I quickly realise that she has begun to work at the buckles that unite me with my strap-on. "Please?" I moan. She ignores me and loosens one side and then the other. I feel her body heat against my thigh as she leans over mesliding the straps down my thighs. With the strap-on gone all defiance leaves me, yet here she is, pulling me up to look into my eyes, her smile suddenly shy, and she places the sweetest of small kisses on my lips. Suddenly I realise I am less and yet even more than what I am - I am hers.
The moment passes, almost as though a gear has changed, and the stakes were upped a notch. I know she is again sitting behind me contemplating all I have to offer, my eyes squeeze shut, forehead wrinkles, and a jolt of sheer pleasure hits as I imagine what she can see. I can feel the hot trickle of my wetness making its way through the black hair between my legs, and that in turn makes me even hotter. A small moan comes from behind me, and I realise that she has been stroking herself while looking at me, and my mouth begins to water as I imagine seeking my revenge.
The moans behind me become louder, and higher pitched until without a doubt I know that she has come without any help from me. I hear her get up and come towards me, the scent of sex clings to her, and I feel a finger stroke my lips, coating them with moisture that could only have come from her. "Lick" she whispers in my ear, and my tongue instantly does her bidding. She laughs, "More?" she husks, and all I can do is moan, for now she has offered me my own strap-on dildo glittering with her juices. Instantly, I know my mental picture of her just touching herself was so wrong, and just as quick the vision of her thrusting the dildo in and out of herself and bringing herself to orgasm with it blows my mind and for the second time tonight I explode in orgasm.
She bends over me to whisper, "Mmm, hair trigger" to my cheek, while watching my tongue working on the dildo, "I like that in a girl." She stands and runs her fingers across my back in a random pattern as though in thought, and I am unable to take it any more. "Fuck me" I ask for the first time, and she laughs in answer.
She takes my hands and places the palm of each one very deliberately on the floor in front of my knees, my chin she carefully rests on the seat of the couch, my knees she adjusts so that I'm not straining to keep them that far apart and when she is satisfied with my position she bends over me to whisper in my ear once more. Her nipples brush against my back softly, and she asks, "Are you ready then?" and I nod vigorously, the word "Yes" leaving my mouth explosively.
She moves back around me and where her fingers trail, a burst of fire follows. "You are too ready for this," she murmurs, "Let's take it a step back," and with that declaration she begins to scratch my back gently and soothingly. I fight the urge to groan and demand she fuck me until I beg her to stop and bite my lip again, clenching every muscle, I arch my back into her every caress. While in reality only seconds pass, in this world of sensuality both she and I have craftedcenturies have passed with me kneeling before the couch aching, and her softly stroking my back. Her master to my willing slave? yet soon it is not enough, I need to feel her within me, to have me screaming, to have me beg her.
I straighten up, turn and look her in the eye, "Fuck me now" I demand, not seeing the little cruel smile that plays upon her lips, her answer is a question, "Or else?" and with that she stands pushes me back down on all fours, nudges my knees back apart and I feel the long thin edge of a riding crop being drawn between my ass cheeks down to my dripping cunt. I draw in a long shaky breath, my heart thumps louder and faster, the pulse of excitement begins to thrill in my veins, "Your word for tonight?" she asks, "Persimmon" I answer. No going back now, time to live the fantasy.
She begins with a small swat to the left buttock, a small introduction to the world of pain in which I will soon be wrapped. Then with expert strokes she starts the short 'cuts' to the inner thighs and works her way up my back; with each one I puff my breath out in cadence, sweat dripping to the floor, feeling myself becoming wetter than I was before, feeling that burn between my legs become stronger, more urgent. I resist the urge to tighten my back muscles against the bite of each whiplash; it only stings more then. Not a single break in the skin, a perfect pattern of thin red welts begins to show, the beginning of my 'Friday tattoo', a hymn written in skin.
She stops for a moment and I hear her stand and move to the table I stay kneeling, eyes closed, revelling in the silver burn of pleasure that follows a skilful whipping. A sudden trail of bright burning shimmering pain begins between my shoulders and runs down to my tail bone, I arch at this, cracking the rapidly cooling candle wax that she has dripped across my back, I feel her fingers quickly following the trial with an ice cube, a different kind of burn but one that blossoms out into the thrill of orgasm.
She wipes the remnants of the wax away and pulls me straight on my knees, her breasts pressed against my shoulder blades, her fingers stroking my belly, I feel the slight scratchiness of her pubic hair against my ass and resist the urge to grind back against it. She kisses my shoulder, and I close my eyes feeling her strength surround me. What would it be like to have more than a Friday evening with this woman? To be able to love her and cherish her and watch over her while she slept?
Gently she lifts a towel and wipes away most of the sweat on my face; she still holds me pressed to her, and then she rubs my nipples with the towel and I revel in the sensation of the thick rough fabric against them. "Are you ready?" she asks softly, bringing a hand up to play with a lock of my hair, she sounds thoughtful and gentle, as though now that I wear her marks for another week she can be magnanimous. My answer can only be "Yes".
I lean forward again, putting my hands on the floor and spreading my knees. I push my ass up and open myself to her as far as possible, knowing that now she would give me what I had desired. I feel her fingers spreading me wide, my clit twitches in the cooler air, the rivulets of moisture cooling, too, as they steadily run down my inner thighs. First one finger slides inside me and my whole body freezes, my inner muscles clench trying to pull that finger even further within, but it slides out, only to return with a friend. The fires of the whipping before are nothing in comparison to this. Slowly and gently the second finger enters me, opening me up, stretching me wider, then a third joins in, and eventually a fourth. She slides her other hand up and down my back now, gently soothing me, letting her four fingers gather moisture and lube themselves up, then the fifth, her thumb, begins to play at the entrance, and slowly, slowly, oh so slowly, she slides it in deeper to join its mates. A gentle twist and her entire fist fills me, and I arch my back trying to force her deeper within. She changes position so that she can see my face, her other hand comes up to stroke my cheek, I know not who gives the bigger gift here, but soon that becomes a moot point as I press harder against her wrist greedily wanting more of her.
The explosive sound of my breathing fills the air around us, my eyes lock with hers at first, only to slide closed as my world becomes her within me and the pleasure it provides. Softly I rock on her fist, clenching my muscles around her again and again, then gently she begins to move within me, flexing her fist and twisting her wrist slowly. Bright flares begin to go off in every part of my body as she begins to move faster, alarms begin to blare in my mind, fires lit by the whipping explode into infernos, and suddenly I am there - flying wrapped in the white of blinding orgasm, almost crushing her fist within me with the contractions of my muscles, my screams shattering the sky?
Slowly I begin to come down from the heaven she sent me to, and I turn my head to kiss her, her lips soft and warm, her tongue hot and playful. My breath returns to near normal as she gently pulls her hand from within me, and we lie there on the floor, this woman that I would give everything to love, and I her willing slave.
"So." She whispers, and I smile and answer, "So." Her eyes twinkle, and she grins shyly, and I pull her into my arms. "Do you need to go?" she asks, I shake my head awkwardly and at that she rises, holds out a hand to me, and as I take it she pulls me to her and gently kisses my nose. "My turn" she whispers, and tugs me towards the bedroom?.
THE END