You make me need you

Command and Control

Another one from the Archives originally posted August 2nd 2011. 

I shall leave it to your imagination as to where the inspiration for this piece came from but it always makes me smile when I think about it. 

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Command and Control

The man at the next table turns to once again look at you as you yelp. He has been watching all through lunch as the noises and moans have become louder and louder. 

The waiters have been very attentive, passing by your table, checking everything is in order, that you are happy. It is as if they can sense how turned on you are right now, the animal instinct men possess tracking you down your need, hunting for the easy kill. 

Your legs are shaking as the final wave of another orgasm passes over you. Knuckles white as you hold on to the tabletop trying to retain some sense of calm, holding on to your last shred of dignity. You lick the perspiration from your lips, the skin exposed through the open necked shirt glows with its own sheen.

Breathing deeply, you try and control your errant body, command it to relax and recover before the next wave hits you. 

Your phone quietly buzzes on the table, you quickly flick it on and read the message and you gasp under your breath, ‘God no, please stop.’  The words on the tiny screen have just shattered any calm you had managed to claw back. Unable to avoid it, you are forced to read and reply otherwise the punishment will be ten times worse. 

You tap the keys quickly as the first vibration rumble within you, setting up a chain reaction of sympathetic tremors throughout your body. Your fingers stumble over the keys, desperate to answer, unable to concentrate, a panicked rush to answer and stem the flow. 

As you hit send another burst of nightmare ecstasy hits you, forcing another groan from between your clenched lips, both hands grasping the tabletop, leaning over in an attempt to reign in your body. 

You watch in slow motion as a drop of sweat peels away from your lips and crashes with glacial slowness in to your soup, sending waves through the liquid mirroring the undulations careering through your cunt. 

Waving away the waiter asking if all is well with madam, you run back through the moment again that led to this, that second of back chat, the loss of poise and control. You had bought the toy for him to use in the bedroom but you never thought he would want to take it so far. But you knew, the second the words left your mouth your fate was sealed. 

His retort, the tone heavy with menace and dry amusement created a flood of fear and excitement between your legs, your pussy drenched at the thought of what was to come. 

‘Let me?’ the snarl on his lips, spitting out the words all that was needed to force the physical reaction in you. ‘Let me? Oh babydoll, you really have so much to learn about what we have don’t you. And there is no time like now to learn.’

You moaned loudly then as he bent you over his desk and pushed the smooth white eggs between your dripping lips, his fingers like red hot pokers to your inflamed flesh, causing you to grind against him until the sharp crack of his other hand forced you to stillness. 

The sound of the door slamming was still ringing in your ears, the only real memory of how you got from his hotel room to the restaurant table he had booked for you. This was a quiet, refined, select place, full of hushed conversations, powerful deals and elegant laughter. 

Heart sinking as the maitre d’ walked you passed hushed tables, knowing there was going to be nowhere to hide. Your blood drains from your face as you recognise the faces of clients and business contacts among the dinners.

Worse still, as he pulled the chair back for you, another wave of vibrations shook your core, forcing you to wobble and grab his arm for support. His kind concern, quickly dismissed with a crooked smile. 

The last hour had been relentless, endless messages, detailed descriptions of what was awaiting you once this trial was over, how he was going to use you, enslave your cunt, dominate your arse and possess your mouth. 

His command to you, to read every message and reply instantly. For every moment of delay another wave of pleasure would be signalled through to the devious device placed deep inside you. 

The urgent buzz of your phone breaks in to your thoughts, trembling hands scramble to take hold, his words flood over you again and once again you react, your cunt contracting and pulsing, flashes of heat storm across your face, breasts heave and your heart hammers against your chest. 

And then the impending tsunami of pleasure and pain crashes over you, a low guttural growl emerging unbidden from deep inside. It is at that point you know you are lost, you drop the phone no longer able to withstand the onslaught. 

Unable to resist, you let go and instead embrace the wave of pleasure as it hits you, squeezing your thighs together to grab your way towards release. Your core reverberates over and over, all pretence lost, head down, growling, moaning, terrified and wanton. 

Slipping a hand beneath the table, you push yourself beyond the tipping point, crumbling under the pressure, screaming out, collapsing on to the table - all eyes on you, suddenly aware of the presence next to you. 

Even in your post orgasmic haze, you prepare for the reprimand, steel yourself for the final humiliation of being ejected, thrown out in front of the glaring audience. What you don’t expect are strong arms wrapping around you, his scent enveloping you, his words of comfort in your ear 

‘Time to go baby, time to go’, as a handful of cash is thrown to the table as you are swept up and away. 

You curl in to his chest, eyes tight hiding from accusing eyes, deaf to the raised questioning voices as you retreat, oblivious to the hushed, urgent conversations of heated couples, ignited to their own fury by your display. 

Sliding in to the back of the waiting cab, he places you gently on his lap, head cradled beneath strong hands. His words and hands stroking, calming you. The fever between your thighs abating, still slick from your lesson, you find solace in his embrace. 

‘Good girl’ 

It is all you need to hear for now, you both know your lesson has been learnt. Eyes shut tight, rocked by the motion of the cab as it moves through traffic, you take a moment to remember the thrill, the ecstasy of those final moments. 

‘Yes Sir’

And you realise you were never more alive, never more true to who you really are than at that moment, lost to everything, no pretence, no qualms, no self control, only his command. 

Words by The Dirty Romantic (aka You Make Me Need You)

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