Monday, 24 March 2008

The Science of Submission

It was not a fetish or even a fantasy. It was much more than that. A real, legitimate, strong desire. I wanted to find a woman who knew there was something missing from her life but hadn’t been able to pinpoint it.

I wanted to take control of her both physically and mentally. I wanted to seduce her in a socially accepted way, where she believed that she was a willing participant, and then slowly introduce her to what she really needed… to submit.

I imagined meeting a woman somewhere public, completely by chance. Often times, it was a department store, late in the afternoon. It's fall or winter and she’s wearing a longer coat. Red hair, usually, or chestnut brown. About my age, obviously not na├»ve, and not young or immature.

I watch her wander through the clothing section, not wanting to leave but not particularly interested in buying anything. From the moment I see her, I know precisely what I want from her. I can close my eyes and feel her reactions, hear her moans, feel her body giving in moment by moment.

I catch her eyes and hold them from fifty feet away, maintaining eye contact, watching her lips part without realising it. I see her tongue graze them and move closer. She drags her stare away to break the spell, only for her gaze to fall over my uniform, crisp, starched, perfect. It is like a magnet and my control is easily re-established.

She shivers almost imperceptibly and tries to turn away, studying the nearest rack of goods to try to regain her composure.

The store is emptying, only a clerk remains, busy with paperwork at the desk. I step closer to my quarry, approaching her deliberately slowly. I see her hand move to a silk blouse and watch her fingertips brush it, unaware that the touch of it is having an effect on her. I see her breathing quicken and I’m amused by her dilemma. I glance down at her left hand and see her wedding ring.

Ten feet away and getting closer. She sees my gaze and follows it to her finger. I wait for her to look back up at me, knowing what will be on her face. I see it. She’s given in already. I walk past her, close enough to hear her slow exhale of disappointment. She thinks I’m leaving... until she feels my left hand on her hip, fingers curling around it, over her jacket, tips pressed against her thigh.

Visibly jumping, she begins to pull away, but only because she thinks she’s supposed to. I lean into her and my fingers slide under the flap in her jacket, four of them spread across her thigh over her dress. My breath is in her ear and she hears me whisper, 'Resist… please.'

My right hand has moved to her stomach, moving higher up her abdomen and her head leans back against my shoulder. She’s breathing heavily, her hand moving to mine on her thigh, covering it, guiding it up. 'I can’t resist,' she murmurs.

This time I feel the shiver as it runs through her, from the top of her head to the tips of her toes. Inclining her whole body back into me, she tries to fight the feelings inside her. To subdue the demons tempting her.

I have to suppress a smile as my right hand moves to the buttons on her dress. Unbuttoning one, I slip my hand inside, massaging her hard nipple through the protection of her bra.

With my other hand, the fingers have reached her thong and she moans as I move it back and forth, between her lips. I glance toward the clerk, whose eyes are still down, engrossed in her spreadsheet. The woman in my grasp looks up at me, her chest rising and falling as she breathes deeply, watching and waiting, lips parted.

I start to push her gently toward the fitting room. Her legs are rubbery. One hand is on the small of her back but I know that all she can think of is the sensation of my fingers inside her, controlling her, slipping in and out underneath her dress.

As we reach the fitting room door, I sense her hesitation. She falters and I can almost read the frantic flitting of her mind as it tries to make sense of the situation and the unusual reaction of her body. For, after all, I am assaulting her and she's letting me. It's as if she's thinking out loud: 'Nice girls don’t behave like this, especially not nice married women.'

But her body is powerless to resist. She cannot control her limbs as I propel her towards the doorway. She’s not even sure that she wants to because, from the moment our eyes met, we both knew that she was mine.

Her back is squashed against my chest, with my knee between her thighs, spreading them as I open the door. She feels my hands moving down her back, cupping her ass, fingers probing under her coat, this time outside her dress.

She’s starting to press back against me, yearning to feel my cock throb, press, stab at her, knowing that it already controls her. Her nerves are tingling and her entire body begins to quake in anticipation. But that’s not what is making her ache. Close to her ear I begin to speak. A low, deep whisper, calm, almost menacing. Each syllable goes straight to her hardened clit. Describing to her what I'm going to do, what she’ll feel, how she’ll respond. The words begin to ease in and out of her. She can feel them sliding deeper, then pulling out, moving faster, filling her.

We’re inside the room, the door is closed and she’s powerless. Completely at my mercy. Her eyes glance at the mirror as I remove her coat, before grabbing both her wrists and placing her hands flat against the glass.

She takes in her dishevelled reflection. Flushed, wide-eyed, pupils dilated. Mouth open trying to catch her breath. Her clothes all awry. Her body so slight against the dark blue bulk of mine. And then her gaze follows the line from my fists pinning her hands to the glass, up the crisp dark blue sleeves, taking in the badges and the gold braid. The symbols of my experience and dominance. The fabric rumples as I bend to place my face close to her shoulder and press my lips against the side of her neck. Warm breath tickles the pulsing skin and she moans softly. The tiniest of sounds escaping through the wall of denial she has erected. Not quite enough to break the dam of her resolution. Our eyes meet in the mirror but this time there is a challenge in hers.

My hand moves to the front of her dress, fingers squeezing her right nipple, feeling it stiffen and squeezing it harder as her ass bucks against my groin. I grasp the cloth of her dress and rip it from her body, buttons popping, my nails leaving marks on her convulsing breasts. Snatching at the material still gripping her thighs and throwing it to the floor before pressing my lips to her ear again. Letting her hear my excitement.

'That’s it… Resist me.' Every word escapes through my gritted teeth as my right hand moves to her hair and grips it, pulls it. She squeals as three fingers slide into her soaked cunt from behind, ploughing into her, driving inside her, spreading then closing.

She watches herself riding my fingers. Pressing the sweetest spot downwards onto those probing digits, her butt writhing against my wrist as I explore her. The roughness of my uniform scratching at her naked skin as my body enfolds her and the braided lines of my medals and other insignia digging cold and sharp into her back.

Our eyes lock defiantly again and I observe the emotions working across her face as she fights the pleasure and the pain. I can feel the pressure building inside as her muscles clench around my fingers, tightening and tightening before she is gasping and crying out at the release as she melts onto me. Droplets of moisture dribbling down my fingers and my wrist, marking the cuff with a darker blue reminder. A panting giggle escapes her. She clearly believes she has won Round One.

I slowly slide my fingers from her drenched cunt, letting them linger on the lips, then take the clit between them and massage it while she starts to sway her hips in rhythm with my hand, moving the clit back and forth.

I unzip and let her feel the heat of hard cock against the cool skin of that fabulous arse. Removing my fingers and tracing a damp line down her spine, the tip of my erection pressing into her entrance. My palms caressing the velvet globes as an inch of me slips into the wetness, thick, throbbing and spreading her already. My fingers sliding down the crack and moving between her cheeks as she moans deeply, then squeals again as my thighs brace and I shove myself all the way inside her.

Her back arches and she studies herself in the mirror. The image staring back at her reveals the depth of her depravity, it exudes pure lust. The tip of my finger probes her and pushes its way inside her tight, velvety butt. The reflection of her shocked expression confirms my suspicion. She’s never experienced it before and her body is overwhelmed. There is saliva at the corner of her mouth, she's literally drooling as my finger moves deeper, my cock starting to pound her cunt, drilling into it, another finger in her ass and she’s reached a level of ecstasy she’s never known.

Bracing her hands against the mirror, she watches me possess her and rides the waves as she comes again and again. Her mouth is a big round O as she screams silently. My fingers leave her clit and push their way into that proferred opening. Smelling herself, sucking her juice from my slick fingers, forcing herself back against my dual penetrations. My hard belly slaps against her as she clenches around me, trying to draw it out of me. But I haven’t finished. My voice is in her ear again, whispering, determined, cajoling, persuading. Demanding another first.

For both of us.

Breathing hard, I wait for her to meet my eye in our reflection. She knows what's coming and I can sense her apprehension, see the concern in her face. My fingers agitate inside her, one, two, three, widening the opening, making her ready, feeling the muscles relaxing with their passage.

Withdrawing my thoroughly lubricated cock, I hold her steady with both hands and spread her cheeks, rubbing the tip around the slightly expanded entrance with the lightest of forwards pressure. I watch transfixed as the head becomes encased in her, oh so slowly disappearing as it slides inside the tightness and the muscles envelop me with the sweetest of compressions whilst my widest part traverses her narrowest. I hold her gaze and watch the wonder in her eyes.

The momentum increasing as I infiltrate her further, experiencing the constricting squeeze as it moves down my throbbing shaft until I am ball deep inside her rear. And then partially withdrawing, only to advance once more into this strange new world. I love the sounds she makes as I ride her, not like before and it feels so different too.

Conscious of her concerns, I start slowly, gradually increasing my acceleration. I can feel the energy building in both of us. The first portents of the eruption that will follow. All I can think of is taking this virgin hole. Spewing my muck into its depths and making it mine. Owning her ass.

I hear her start to moan, her soft entreaties for more deprive me of the last remnants of any self-control. The lust rises and marches me onwards, harder and faster. My eyes dart from her shocked stare to her hands, braced white against the mirror as my weight drives into her. Forcing one set of my digits into her dribbling mouth, the others grip her sopping clit and extract the orgasm shrilly from her as she pulsates around my pounding member. Supporting her body as her knees start to buckle before I feel the exquisite sensations escalating within me and it floods forth deep inside her, leaving me trembling and panting with the intensity.

I hold her quivering nakedness against me, warming her with my body until the shudders die away. Eventually she looks shyly up at me from under her lashes and smiles to intimate a job well done.

And that's how I found my English Bitch.


Anonymous said...

You know how I like uniforms. ;)

nitebyrd said...

WOW! That's fantastic!

Helga Hansen said...

Mmmmmm... as a female, writing a story from a male perspective - that's rather scrumptious, Ms Cake! Well done... I like! :D

Ro said...

Now that, Ms Cake, was an ... um ... interesting read!

{Exits, making notes for future reference ... }

Duke Orsino said...

Well, you know you're getting there when you can switch genders. I've done this a few times on my other blog, and I occasionally get emails from people who are under the impression that I'm female.

So, any chance of a cock shot, Mr Cake?

Anonymous Boxer said...

People ALWAYS assume I'm male, but it's not because of the sex I write about.


Anonymous said...

that was hot choc pudding, mmmm

Fat Controller said...

You have a wonderfully naughty imagination and your prose style, as always, leaves me breathless and wanting more...just like good sex!

having my cake said...

Marianne - on this we are agreed

Nitebyrd - Thank you x

Helga - I did get some help on certain perspectives but it was rather empowering :)

Ro - I... err...

Your Grace - Keep your maulers off my err... strap on

AB - I cant think why. Just because you like hitting things?

Wayne - Well it is Easter

FC - Thank you. I do my best to please.

Passionista said...

My god, that was incredible. I have to say, I am twitching after reading that one.