Hécuba

Apparently you’ve already chosen your outfit (a short red leather skirt, a tight transparent blouse that squeezes your breasts and whose buttons look like they’re about to pop from the pressure, with no panties or bra). You’ve already sprayed perfume on your neck and your breasts. With the bottle still in your hand, you aim between your legs for the final spritz, but you seem to change your mind. You look at me. Finally you look at me, and my jaw tightens. I lift my chin, pulling the chain with my teeth, tugging on the clamps on my nipples and making my breasts move. I do it several times. “Don’t leave me like this, halfway” my eyes beg you. And at last, you walk toward me with that smile that promises nothing good — but I don’t care, because you’re what I desire most.

You lift your short skirt just enough for your perfectly shaved pussy to appear. You grab me by the ponytail and force me to look you in the eyes, even though the strappado makes me look down more than up.

“The taxi arrives in five minutes. You’d better make me cum before it gets here. You know how much I hate being late…”

I try to nod but it’s impossible with how firmly you’re holding my hair, so the only way I can show you how much I want to please you is by releasing the chain from between my teeth, opening my jaw wide, and letting my tongue hang out.

Then you bury your sex in my mouth with one sudden, rough movement. And I devour you with the frenzy of someone who feels they’re already late. I can barely breathe — I can only smell your arousal. I can barely hear — I can only hear the wet sounds of my saliva mixing with your juices. I can barely look you in the eyes — I can only focus on eating you as well and as quickly as I possibly can.

You start squeezing my face with your thighs, moaning without restraint, without any fear that someone might hear you. You grip my ponytail so hard I feel like you’re going to rip it out. I lick and press my tongue against your pussy with such force that I’m grunting from the physical effort. Your moans grow faster and I already feel like I’m about to pass out, even though the finish line seems so, so, so close. I feel the trembling of your thighs against my cheeks and, as if it were an explosion of calm, your moans fall silent and your body relaxes.

I know you’ve cum, but I’m afraid you might have faked it just to apply whatever punishment you have planned for me, so I don’t stop licking you. Only when you pull my head away from your pussy by yanking my ponytail do I raise my eyes to meet yours. You look at me satisfied. I look back, staring intensely, and run my tongue along the line of my upper teeth before biting my lower lip. Would you believe me if I told you I still want to satisfy you even more? That my pussy is soaked right now?

But no, I don’t need to tell you. You rub your sex across my face before lowering your miniskirt, then you lean over me and caress my vaginal lips. Next you rub my juices between your fingertips in front of me and smile, even though you try to hide it.

I’m a good girl — not because I always obey you, but because I give you what you most desire without you having to ask.

My Miss’s reply to my fantasy:

“I love your fantasy. It’s so clear in my mind that I can imagine every second. I can imagine all my feelings while I ‘ignore’ you, but inside, I’m not really getting dressed to go out and look irresistible — I’m dressing up to increase your agony and your desire. And my own.

I love that you’re hanging there like that. I love that you’re being so, so, so good while you hang there watching, without complaining. My attitude is strict and dominant, and inside my excitement is shooting through the roof. I’m very pleased with you. I’m thinking that I should reward you somehow.

And at the same time that this generosity fills me, I look at you so desperate and helpless that my dominant impulse truly emerges and I grab you by the hair… feeling my own need intensely and fiercely…