Anticipation
Waiting, wanting, anticipating his first touch.
You know this is the quiet before the storm, you know that he has left you her for your mind to prepare you.
Each noise and sound makes your heart race as you wait for his touch.
Every thought is magnified, his silence all the more malevolent because of your dark jail.
You kneel, you wait and despite, or is it because of, the lack of contact with him, your desire grows, you need for him to be on you increases.
And when his touch finally comes, he sends your senses reeling. The crack of the leather across your bare skin is unexpected, sharp and delicious.
The hard leather is drawn across your skin, you melt inside, unable to deny this is what you want, need more than anything else.
You wait for the next crack, desire it, the anticipation flooding you, nipples rock solid, cunt drenched, breath raged. Waiting, waiting.
Damn him, for his tease, his delay. And yet he knows you better than yourself, as he proves again with another swift slice of the crop, which sends a shiver of pain and beauty through you.
All is quiet again and your pulse races as fast as your mind, anticipation building for the next devious strike. And you love him all the more for his cruel care.
Words by The Dirty Romantic (http://youmakemeneedyou.tumblr.com)
(via esclavemuskie)
Source: simplewishes
The Door - Part II
This is the second part of a story I started a little while ago - if you missed the first part you can read it here - The Door Part 1.
I would suggest it is worth reading the first part, as this one will make an awful lot more sense. I really shouldn’t leave it so long between parts of the story.
————
You stand there, in your quiet darkness, a tremor running through you at the touch of his fingers along your thigh. He makes no other sound, has not responded to your request other than to continue to slide his fingers further up your legs. You try to hold back a tremor, you can’t tell if it is from his touch or the position he has you in.
You want to cry out, to moan with pleasure but you maintain the silent vigil that he has started. Although you remain quiet, you can’t stop your body reacting to those creeping fingers, moving ever closer to where you want him most. You catch your breath, stomach tightening, waiting for them to find you. You can feel the heavy weight between your legs, the dampness of your thighs, the burning heat inside your cunt.
He must already know what he will find, your body betraying you completely as to how much his treatment has affected you; your thighs are slick and you feel his fingers begin to slide over damp skin. You wonder what he must be thinking, how he will react to this, knowing he has control of you so completely already.
His fingers continue their inevitable slide towards your waiting cunt, you force yourself to remain still, to endure his slow torture. You want to push in to him, force your cunt down on to his advancing hand but you know this is not what he intends and you want to please him, to show how willing you are to be controlled by him.
As they move upwards, you feel the tightness grow in your stomach, breathing faster now, anticipating his final touch, the slide of fingers inside you. But it does not come, they drift away instead, leaving you gasping quietly in frustration, a small groan slips from your lips at his sudden departure. You quickly pull your mouth tight shut, biting your lip against the disappointment you feel.
Left, alone again in the darkness, you become only too aware of your body and it’s reaction to even this briefest of touches from him. There is a pulse running through you, a steady throb emanating from deep within, centred around your cunt, spreading out over your whole body.
You feel everything, hyper sensitive to every small sensation - the quiet throb of your wet cunt, heavy lips full and ready between your legs. Your nipples grate against the fine silk bra, sending shudders through you as you shift in your restraints. Even the pain coming from your wrists, the bindings biting against the bone, intertwines with the flood of pleasure from the rest of your body - creating a heady cocktail which lets your mind spin away for a moment.
The sudden sharp crack against your cunt makes you shout out in surprise, the flash of pain takes you out of your dark reverie and brings you alive instantly. The second tap, lighter this time, although as much unanticipated as the first, still forces a gasp from you, as the initial sting of the first begins to warm your lips.
The Door
You stand outside the door to the hotel room, a row of anonymous clones stretch away in both directions down the subtly lit corridor. You adjust your coat, once again checking it is tightly wrapped around you, still fearful that the wrong move on your part would reveal that there is nothing beneath but the black lace lingerie and stockings that he had told you to wear.
You pause for a moment more, listening to the thumping of the blood in your ears, the pounding of your heart against your chest and you take a deep breath looking to calm your nerves and knowing it is pointless. He has had you on the very edge since he made the call a few days ago to tell you he was going to be flying in. He had been explicit in his instructions to you and he had been very clear on what would take place this evening.
You know that on the other side of the door is everything you want and everything that frightens you to the core. That once the door shuts behind you, the lock clicks in to place, you will not be able to shy away from what you must become. This moment is the culmination of months of discovery, long discussions with him about your desires, exploring your limits in your head, illicit late night calls leaving your fingers wet and your thighs slick with want.
Since the call he has increased his presence in your everyday life, the texts and emails demanding your attention, forcing you away from any sane thoughts of work and normality. A steady drip feed of lust, notes of his desire, every one of them working their way inside your mind and leaving you with such a vivid picture of this moment, leaving a burning want deep in your gut.
You have played out what will happen once you are on the other side of the door so many times in your head over the last few days. It has left you standing here, already dripping with need, lips full and ready, yearning for the hands you have imagined so many times taking you, to finally fulfil their forbidden promise.
And yet you stand here frozen, just the other side of your desire but unable to act. A tumultuous cloud of emotions churning within you, still afraid to reach out and grab what you really want, to become what you know you must to find happiness, fearful that you will be consumed by the touch you want so much.
Suddenly voices float down the corridor, escaping from the opening lift doors and the fear of being found just standing there forces your hand and you finally knock on the door. The sounds seem timid and weak; you curse yourself for not being able to show more confidence even now.
After a moment, which seems to stretch forever as the voices approach, the door opens to reveal a dimly lit suite. Without further hesitation you step inside, escaping from the voices and your fear. Your stomach leaps as the door latches shut and the lock is clicked in to place, underlining that there is no route back now, you are committed no matter what. And for a moment that calms you, the inevitable removing you from any further decision, you are now in his hands.
And you know you have pressed the key to your darkness firmly in to those hands.
He claims you quickly, even before you have adjusted to the dimly lit room, his lips are on yours, his hands surround your face as he pulls you in to him. The sudden passion of his kiss takes your breath away, no words having passed between you. You let the moment take you over, this safe feeling of his body close to yours, his hands warm against your face, still cold from the sharp spring air outside.
His body presses against you, pushing you back towards the door until you feel its solid weight hard up against you. His weight continues to bear down on you, as his hands leave your face and trace the shape of your shoulders and arms through your coat. His hands wrap around your wrists and slowly draw both arms up, pinning them to the door and following a slow arc up above your head, his lips never leaving yours.
As his lips finally break away and you take a breath, a second to recover your composure, you notice a heavy weight against your wrists. He moves quickly before you can take in where this is going, before you can make a decision to follow. He wraps both wrists with one hand, sliding each hand through a leather loop and pulling them tight. Finally he releases your wrists and uses both hands to clamp the leather bindings firmly in place across both wrists.
You realise they are attached to something on the door, you pull your arms down but they hold firm, a small click of metal chain above your head. A small swell of panic rises in you, arms pulling against the restraints, you shift around and finally focus on him. The world pauses for a moment as you take in this face you feel you know so well, and yet you can now see subtle differences, he looks a little older than he had seemed, more grey flecks in his hair, smile lines around his mouth.
But the smile is the same, his wry grin portraying the same amused intelligence that had first caught your attention. Only it is so much more immediate in person. You have moment to glance at his eyes before he wraps your eyes in a silk blindfold.
It is only those eyes, the kind look with the wicked glint that stops the panic bubbling over as he slips the blindfold behind your head and ties it firm. As he pulls it tight, he whispers one word close to your ear, barely audible but there.
”Welcome”
Your heart beats faster at the sound of his voice, heard so any times before but richer now, more subtle and the one word makes your cunt flood. The reality of the situation hitting home as you realise this is not a fantasy anymore, but ever so real.
He underlines it with his hands, tracing further down your body, a light caress of fingers through the fabric of your coat and then along the sheer material of your stockings as he moves further down, ending with a hand clasped around your ankle.
His strong hands suddenly force you legs apart and you stagger slightly at the sudden movement, recover your balance and realise he is attaching another binding to your ankle, the leather tight around your ankle, biting gently against the flesh of your calf. The other ankle is quickly constrained in the same way and then as suddenly as he started, his hands leave you.
You know he is still close, you can hear his gentle, steady breathing, can smell his scent, a subtle aftershave which has begun to reach your senses now his initial overload has paused. And then he is at your ear again and as he slowly drizzles his words in to your mind, his hand runs up your thigh, inch by inch, heavy fingers grasping at the soft flesh of your inner thigh, ending with a glancing touch of your cunt, through the damp silk.
“You are mine now, in here. To use as I see fit, as I desire. You realise that don’t you”
Your mind swims, body shattered by his assault both mental and physical and you ache, your body is groaning for more, deep within you are screaming for him to take you there, now.
But with those words, his fingers disappear and you sense he is no longer close. You are alone, in the dark, hands held above your head and a burning desire between your legs, with nothing again but the hammering of your heart to keep you company.
And you wait, in the dark and the quiet, with nothing but your own thoughts and a deep yearning for his touch to come again. As you stand there, you begin to notice your body, the pulse of blood at your wrists as it squeezes past the restraints, the heavy throb of your cunt and the slow seep down your thigh. Everything becomes heightened, as you move against your restraints, your nipples rasp against the sheer fabric of your bra, sending a delicious shudder throughout your body.
Your legs are kept taut by the awkward position of the ankle bindings, made worse by the height of your heels; a tinge of regret now that you chose these heels, so much higher than you would normally wear and already creating a delicious burn in your legs.
In your darkness, your discomfort, your mind begins to spin, running through the last few days, the mix of emotions; the depths of fear and heights of desire taking control of you at a whim. You have crashed and soared so many times, your deep desires, to be used, controlled, fighting against the risk of giving all the control to another.
But most has been the fear of admitting to yourself who you are, what is deep within you and what it will mean to give way to that person you have kept boxed up for so many years. And even now, hanging against the door, you try to suppress the deep pleasure you feel, trying to ignore how much his indifference, his reminder you are his to use as he wants, have affected you.
And then in the depth of your doubt, his hands return, almost as if he knew where you were, how the solitude had affected you. And with his fingers slowly sliding up your legs, tracing a path along the inside of your legs, your doubts begin to evaporate as your heart skips, your cunt becomes heavy and your body reacts to the touch with such force that it shocks you. This, this is what you need, what you have desired for so long and what you will not deny yourself any longer.
‘Take me….please’, and you hand him the key to your door.
—-
More?
Words by The Dirty Romantic (aka You Make Me Need You)
The Room
The room is dark, a single lamp glowing in the corner as you both walk in. The small room in the corner of the office is normally avoided for meetings, cramped, hot and a lack of windows means most people will try anything to not have to come here.
And this is why it is perfect. You both know why you are here and it is not to conduct a review of the latest accounts, despite coming in to the room with a pile of files and a laptop.
You know you are here to fuck, for him to use you, his text to you was clear. He was in town, the sales meeting was tomorrow and he needed to go over the figures. You booked this room, it was always free and you knew what he wanted, what he always wanted and you were more than happy to fulfil his need.
He locks the door and moves the flip chart to block the small window in the door, there is still the chance of discovery, the surrounding offices still with a scattered presence even at this hour. But that adds to the moment, the excitement that has been building since his text came in yesterday.
You can feel your thighs are damp already, have been since the first beep of the phone, knowing it was him, what it signalled, the primal urge inside you already demanding to be fed.
And then he is there, arms wrapping you up as he collects your face in his hands and his tongue bursts inside your mouth. He forces you backwards and you push up against the wall, his body pinning you as he continues to kiss you. He is in no hurry despite the risk as he moves to your neck, small bites and teases with his teeth as he works his way down to your shoulder. And there he bites more deeply, drawing on you with his mouth, a shudder rocking you body as his teeth dig in.
You heart races and your naked cunt floods with desire, his emails and texts had built to this moment. A day of small temptations, threats and promises bringing you to this state and already leaving you wanting him, your thighs slick, your cunt dripping.
He breaks away from you finally, his look is hungry as he moves back, you remain against the wall, expectant.
“Pull your skirt up for me, show me. I want to see your cunt, want to see how wet you are”
You pause for a moment, eyes flicking to the door and then back to him.
“Now”
Defiance - Part II
‘Do it yourself..”, you spit the words out, full of venom.
Nothing happens. The hand remains in place on your neck, the weight and tension no more that it was before, not even a twitch as you spit the words back out. The breathing close to your ear remains steady, almost comforting, no interruption in the pace. It continues to brush against your neck, those damn hairs responding still.
The lack of response infuriates you but you know it is also creating a deeper response in you, something more primal, you feel if deep in your gut, lower in fact. There is a patience and a confidence here that makes you want to reach round and fight against it but just as much lean back in to the chest behind you and surrender.
You wait. And still nothing, just the breathing and the hand…
You tip your head back to try and make eye contact, moving restlessly now. Not defiant enough to leave the chair or close your legs but you resist, not prepared to be passive, the need to fight still strong, burning inside.
As you squirm the hand suddenly slides all the way around your neck and comes to rest beneath your chin. This isn’t an aggressive movement, the hand is actually almost gentle but the firmness in the grip is apparent and he holds you firm.
And then he is there, his brown eyes looking in to yours. A serene quiet face staring down, no anger there that you can see just resolution. Again the rumble deep inside you, the churn of desire and resentment. Confusion and lust burns away and creates a flood between your legs, a silent reminder of the effect he is having on your body and mind.
Despite the hope that forcing eye contact would misdirect his plans, change the pace, you now realise that this will not go easy. There are no cracks, no weakness behind his eyes. And regardless of the growing delicious fear which is forcing your nipples to steely points and your cunt to drip, you remain silent, resolute to let the defiance burn out from you.
He continues to watch for a moment. The grip of his hand ever so slightly increases as he speaks.
“Once again baby. Touch yourself for me, show me how ready you are, show me what we both already know, what I’ve known since you walked through the door. Show me, share with me, let me taste how ready you are.”
The hand remains, the pressure firm across your throat, his eyes stay on you. Nothing else moves, no sound exists in the room aside from your breathing and the sound of your heart now hammering loud in your ears.
All that moves now are his words, slipping between your defences, flowing around your defiance and burrowing deep within you, much deeper than any physical action he could take.
Your mind churns, you wonder if he can actually hear the war inside, the clash of defiant demons and deviant desires, the voices angry and vicious inside your head - surely they are so loud that he can hear every word that you scream inside.
Craving
He is there, at your ear, drip feeding words, curling them masterfully around your mind, they glide like smoke, caressing your skin as they move within.
Finding their way deep inside to those dark spaces of your mind, heavy words full of intent, creating their own pressure on your most hidden secrets.
Honey coated pleasure that drips slowly, drop by delicious drop, down your spine to pool and coalesce deep in the pit of your belly.
Promises of how his fingers will slip inside, push past heavy lips to leave them glistening and you wanting more.
The feel of his strong fingers moving within you, curling and searching to push and grind against your precious inner space. Finding that one place that will leave you writhing beneath his touch, delicate surfaces treated roughly, harsh movements to push you, to force you to cry out in need.
And then the words are joined by strong hands commanding your hips, securing you, to leave his fingers free and unencumbered to explore and use.
Driving you at a pace you both love and hate, forcing your hands to push him away while trying to pull him closer in, your voice rising in protest while demanding more, harder, faster.
And then the relentless drive begins, slow at first, fingers slipping against wet flesh, finding that same spot over and over.
Growing in intensity and vigour.
With each thrust that devious thumb begins to push against the tight little hole. Teasing and twisting against it, fingers now coated in your need.
Finally it breaches and finds its way inside. And he encloses you, pushing together inside.
His grip is firm inside you, pushing finger and thumb together, sending waves through your body.
All the while, his fingers continue to move and slide, faster, harder. Leaving you no choice but to shout, loud cries to stop, to carry on, to take you, to use you.
His finger slide, slip, push and glide and you become nothing but the sensation, those fingers moving hard inside you, over and over, no release yet, no command to cum, he holds you on the precipice. Nothing left, all thoughts pushed aside, nothing but his fingers buried deep and pressing hard.
You are empty but alive, there is nothing else now, nothing beyond the deep pounding rhythm. Just soft flesh, glistening and tortured by heavy, harsh fingers.
He layers his words on top,exerting a pressure beyond the physical, whispered promises of more, of how his cock will find you. How you will be held, used, dominated and taken. Where his cock will slide, what other soft places it will discover.
And the fingers move on, never stopping, growing stronger, deeper, forcing the shouts from you, begging for release, you reach clawing hands outwards grasping for that release, fighting for it.
And as your body shudders, as your world spins and closes in, heart racing against the dreaded beat of the fingers within you, you beg to be released.
Body quivering, pushed against a wall of waiting pleasure, you hear yourself pleading louder until, at last, the command is finally delivered and your voice rises and sings as you let your body explode.
Waves and sparks crackle from deep within, a sweeping crash of joy across your body, leaving your heart hammering and your mind detached.
Even then, as you finally find release, he is unforgiving, his damn fingers continue to move, tipping you beyond your limits, creating a deeper craving, your mind slipping further away.
You are lost to his deviant mix of pleasure and pain, torn between your own screams to stop and your warped demands for more. Until finally you crumble, spent, used, exhausted. He relents, his fingers slipping from you, leaving a ghost of pleasurable contentment deep within your cunt.
And as you feel his weight against you, his heat next to yours, his chest calming your beating heart, he slips those candy coated fingers past your lips and lets you taste your own sweet bitterness.
All the while his words and arms wrap around you, comfort to slow the shakes, calm the mind and quieten your satisfied sobs. His eyes on yours, watching you, peering deep inside you.
But it is then, in that moment of peace, you see the devil inside, staring back and it is grinning wildly.
That grin slowly appears on his sweet face as he slides his fingers from your mouth and traces a wicked trail down your body, a gasp escapes your lips as he finds you again.
You close your eyes as his fingers begin their caress and he begins with one word sent to slip back inside your mind, the chain reaction triggered again.
‘Again’…
Words by The Dirty Romantic (aka 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.
——-
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)
http://youmakemeneedyou.tumblr.com
Source: youmakemeneedyou
Scent
Another one from the archives - originally posted on 10th Feb 2011.
This one came about after stopping to look around me one day on the train following another delay and take the time to really notice my surroundings. To stop for a moment and really spend the time to take in the details of what was around me. And what I actually noticed were all the subtle sexy hints that were there in my fellow passengers, on display if you cared to notice.
The small details, the tiny little items that spin past us during the daily grind that would never be noticed by anyone else, but seem to scream out if you care to look. In fact if you stop and really look, to take in every finesse of the way a woman has dressed, holds herself or even absentmindedly touches her hair, these can flood your senses and the mind with wicked possibilities.
Of course that just might be the dark deviant corners of my mind taking over for a time.
Enjoy!
————
Scent
Travelling each day into the City, the monotony of the same routine, same time each day, same carriage, same faces. No one really talks, most working through papers, books or plugged in to iPhones or laptops.
All apart from her.
I don’t know why, but there was something different. Yes she was attractive, well groomed and dressed well, I always noticed her legs as she stepped on to the train, wrapped in sheer black stockings, which she always finished off with a perfect pair of expensive high heels.
I think it was her face that really captured my attention though, a strong face,framed by beautiful long dark hair, out of which looked the most amazing eyes. We had caught each others gaze a thousand times before, over a myriad of journeys but each time a shiver would always rocket through me.
Those eyes would pierce through me but she would always move on quickly, taking a seat elsewhere in the carriage. We may occasionally catch each others glance, but no more than a briefest of contact.
Today however was different, as we board the busy train, another delay has meant many more people than normal leaving only two seats side by side. I stand aside and offer her a seat, for which I get a short smile of thanks but for the first time she holds my gaze. As she glances away again to take her seat, the smallest of smiles passes her lips.
We sit together, the train seats cramped so we are forced to sit close but do what we can to not touch, despite the proximity.
I can’t help but look down at her legs, peeking from under the tight black pencil skirt, perfection in those black stockings while the heel of her shoe forces her ankle into a perfect shape.
I am so aware of her next to me, her scent washes over me and I bite my lip to diminish the effect she is having on me. Ever so slowly her legs relax and comes to rest against mine. I don’t move away but hold very still - savouring this unexpected physical contact. I feel a little sad that I crave such a thing, but her legs look fantastic and the weight of her leg against mine is pleasing.
She casually rests a hand against her thigh and then drops it ever so slightly, almost absentmindedly coming to rest against my leg. I tense a little bit unsure of whether this is intentional or not. A moment later she answers my question by sliding her little finger, hidden below her hand, along the seam of my trousers.
I stiffen almost immediately, and I can feel her tense. I slowly turn to face her, as if looking out of the window. She faces forward, holding still and then she turns her head and her eyes catch mine.
As they do, her hand moves more firmly actually brushing along my thigh as she shifts position, her fingers brushing my crotch. The smile that comes to her face, tells me she knows I am hard. I look at her questioningly, nothing is said and everything is said. I shift position and let my hand brush her leg, the rough feel of her stockings, electric, sending a further pulse of need through me.
She now places more of her weight against me, leaning in further, her breast resting against me.
We sit like that, while the train makes it’s way to its destination, each furtive touch between us a little bolder than the last. I glance around the other passengers, but no one lifts their head above their own personal daily grind. The presence of so many others, heightens each touch.
As the train finally pulls into its destination, our hands find each other and I can finally feel her heat. She is shaking and her fingers dig deep into my hand. .
We let the last of the crowd fight their way off the train ignoring us, and I reach up touching that face I’ve long admired and lean forward kissing her deeply.
She responds immediately pushing her tongue into my mouth, shifting her body further into mine.
We break away as new passengers start to board the train, and I stand pulling her gently to her feet and lead her from the train.
Our hands flitting across each other. I already know where I’m taking her. A small courtyard is next to the station, deserted this time of morning. As we enter our hands are more urgent now, she tugs at my belt as I push her into an alcove.
The risk we might be seen from the street if someone took the time to look into the courtyard matters little as I lift her skirt to her waist. The urgency is with us both now, driven by a thousand glances, an unspoken passion, never acted upon.
She has my cock in her hand roughly, urgently pulling me to her. Her knickers tear as I pull them aside and I slam her against the cold stone wall, my cock sliding easily into her dripping wet cunt. I pull one leg up around me and as she wraps the other around me, I take her weight against me, burying my cock to the hilt.
We buck against each other, tasting each other deeply, her hands in my hair pulling me into her, holding me there.
As my thrusts slam her against the wall she gasps and I feel her pussy tighten, and begin to embrace my cock, shudders running through me, my legs shaking with the strain. Finally spent we stay like that, my cock still inside, teased by ongoing spasms.
As I look at her I know neither of us will be going to work today…
Words by The Dirty Romantic (aka You Make Me Need You)
A Moment
A precise moment in time, held in that second when pain and pleasure mingle;
The chain cold between your lips, the clamps harsh against your skin;
Delicious;
The tilt of your head sending sparks through your body;
Small gasps of delight escaping between tight clamped teeth;
‘Again’ his command rolls over you;
And another burst of pain ripples outwards from those hard points, bouncing through your body and pooling deep inside your cunt;
‘Again’
The gasp stronger, the sensation of the moment harsher, your need for it deeper;
‘Again’
Fuck, yes, no, damn;
The pain ricochets from mind to body, nerves on edge, pussy wet and heavy;
Unbidden you tug again and again, the bit between your teeth, the whip crack of the pain forcing you on.
‘Enough’
No, yes, fuck, damn.
His control, his pace, your body panting, needing, heart pounding in your ears, thighs slick, lips heavy.
‘Wait’
Panting, wanting, desperation sliding inside, the need for more, more pain, more moments, the suspense terrorising you;
‘Mine’
The chain drops from your mouth and in to his control, harsh tugs alight you again, a gasped shout rebounds off the walls as his hand finds you wet, slick, ready;
His pace, his mastery, moving you forward, warping your mind, teasing your body, tweaks, deep dives, forcing shouts of desire from between your lips;
Building to the crescendo, played as if you were a Stradivarius, each motion of his hands bringing exquisite music to the air, a finely tuned instrument in his hands, pushed beyond limits, forced to pause until the conductor’s signal;
‘Now’
Finally, release. The shout, the shuddering escape, as the chain once more becomes taut, reaches the rafters, echoes the energy that surges through you, his fingers deep inside, sustaining the note, pitch perfect;
And then you drop, as the chain becomes slack and you fall in to him, spent, empty, clean;
His role changed as he scoops you up and envelopes you, his chest your shield as the emotions roll back inside you, quiet sobs stumble against him, as the moment, that one moment of perfection slips away, to await the next time.
Words by: The Dirty Romantic (aka You Make Me Need You)
(via passius)
Source: unnaturallybound
I've been called a Dirty Romantic and I liked it! 
