Just A Woman (Marina: Part Two: Naughty Nookie Series) (9 page)

I’m kind of
disappointed.  Feeling like a wuss, when the results aren’t that
spectacular in comparison to the hard, burning sting I’d felt while receiving
the spanks; a sting that’s still there.

When I turn on my
heel and walk back to him, I can see the knowing glint in his eye, but he
doesn’t comment, just points to the ground in front of him again.  I
manage a little more decorum this time and manage to kneel without
stumbling. 

“How did that
feel, Marina?”

“Different.” 
At his glance, I quickly tag on, “Nate.”

“How?”

“It hurt but it
wasn’t anything I couldn’t endure.”  Remembering his hard on, I murmur,
“It feels good knowing I pleased you, Nate.”

That’s no
lie.  It does feel good.  I
feel
good.  Purged?  I don’t
know, maybe that’s too strong a word to use.  But knowing Nate’s aroused
makes my own arousal feel more normal.  Mutual.  I’m not alone in
this.  We’re a partnership and I guess, in the five years we’ve been
together, we’ve never actually been
partners.

“That was a good
answer, Marina.  You get a reward.”

“I do?”  I’m
almost embarrassed at my squeak, but Christ, who gives a fuck?  If he’ll
just touch my pussy again, I think in four pinches of my clit, I’ll cum. 
Taking into consideration last night’s abrupt cease of play and then the heat
from this episode, I’m ready to explode.  I need to climax.  Badly.

“Yes.  You
may suck my cock.”  As my mouth drops open, in disappointment I guess, a
smile twists his lips.  He knew exactly what I was thinking, what I was
hoping for. 

Damn his
hide. 

Disappointment
doesn’t fill me for long.  For weeks, I’ve craved contact with Nate. 
Physical, mental, sexual.  Any frigging touch would have suited me just
fine.  And that he’s letting me do this, well, I feel like I’ve been let
loose in a candy store where every product has minus ten calories and tastes
like Willy Wonka dreamt them up.

I crawl forwards
and between his legs, uncaring that I’m actually on my knees, sliding towards a
man as though he were my pasha and I, his slave.  I forget that in my
haste to touch, to connect.  As though I’m handling priceless jewels, I
unfasten the button on his jeans and reach for his zipper and tug it down,
careful when the thick teeth stick a little.  His cock pops out, hard and
thick and my mouth drools at the sight.

Nate’s so thick
he’s hard for my pussy to take, never mind my mouth.  I’ve found different
ways to please him though and I intend to use each and every one of them to
rock his world.  It’s important I impress him... I just wish I knew why.

With a delicate
grip, I press the fingertips of both hands around his shaft and flutter my
fingers as though I was typing.  Reaching down, I’m about to accept him
into my mouth, when he grabs my chin. 

“When I cum, Marina,
you
will
swallow.”

I jerk back,
almost in an automated response.  Before I can yell at him and tell him
no, he narrows his eyes at me and says, “Why have you always said no to that
one request of mine?”  He tilts his head to the side.  “There’s no
reason, except you took pleasure in denying me, is there?”

My mouth pops open
to reject that statement, but then, remembering the fact I’m supposed to be
honest has it closing again.   My silence is an admission.

He nods at me and
huffs under his breath.  “I fucking knew it.”  He sucks in air, as
though he’s begging for patience.  “Well, no more.  No more power
plays on your part.  I’m in control and you have to do as I say, Marina,
or you’ll be back on my lap getting spanked.  Do you understand?”

“Y-yes, Nate.” 
I do.  I always took a sick kind of pleasure out of denying him
that.  A simple pleasure, but one that made me feel as though I held the
reins.  As I look back, I know he dominated me in the bedroom.  Not
in the true sense, as would be now, but in his own way.  Urging me past my
limits, always driving me to the outer edge of control.  I guess that was
my way of punishing him.  Getting a little of my own back.  “I-I,
Nate, if I’d had a real reason for not wanting to swallow, would you listen?”

He purses his
lips.  “It depends.  If the reason were genuine, then we’d talk about
it.  But you would eventually swallow my cum.”

“So I have no say,
at all?”

“Of course, you
do.  I’ll always listen if you want to speak, but in the end, I’ll drive
you past your limitations, just like I always have done.  My cum is a gift
to you, Marina, something you should cherish just as I’ll cherish each and
every one of your orgasms.  At this moment, I’m giving you a reward for
your good behavior this morning.  I’m giving you something you’ll come to
crave, because my pleasure will come to mean more than even your own.”

Is he for
real? 

I close my eyes at
the question, because how many times in the last eighteen or so hours have I
asked myself that?  And every time, he’s very, very serious.

Crave spunk?

I’d like to say I
don’t think so, but I’m not sure if I have a choice.

The way he’s
talking is doing something to my insides.  I don’t like the subject
matter, the male version of lumpy crème anglaise served right from the source,
but there’s a deeper meaning to his words.  A devotion that has my heart
fluttering in my chest.

It’s weird, I know
I can back away, say my safe word or run out of the room and back to my
own.  But if I do that, that’s it.  Game over.  And as odd as it
is, as freaky as it’s going to get, I don’t want this to end.

If I’m honest, I
want to cum.  Badly.  But I can’t.  Yet.  Maybe if I do
this, if I swallow, he’ll let me.

The idea has
merit, even if I know that isn’t the point behind this exercise.  A girl can
always hope though, can’t she?

“Now, put your
mouth on me, Marina.”

“Yes, Nate.”

His eyes contain a
smile and God; it feels good to bathe in his warmth again.  He settles
back into his armchair, head tilted back at an angle of relaxation but all the
time, his gaze is on me.  Those pale orbs are taking in every single thing
I do and my insides feel hot and shivery at his attention.

He’s focused on
me.  I’m not just some chick giving him a blowjob.  I’m Marina and he
knows that.  He wants Marina to swallow his cum.  He wants her to
suck his cock.  And whatever the reason may be, the very idea is so
empowering I begin to nuzzle his dick against my mouth. 

Pressing kisses to
the glans, I intersperse darting licks, gently whipping the shaft with my
tongue.  I flicker and flutter the tensile muscle up and down.  Suck
the skin, press it against my teeth.  Lift his shaft so it’s flat against
his belly and run my lips down the thick, throbbing vein.  By the time I
reach his balls and lick and moisten the skin with my tongue, I’m breathing
heavily and my nipples are beaded.  Desperately in need of a hard suck or
a pinch.  Just the idea of being touched, of those hard points being
caressed has me shuddering as I work one moist ball into my mouth.  I
palpitate it against the side of mouth, suck and release until he’s
groaning. 

My eyes flicker
upwards and I can see the thin slivers of his own are almost glittering with
the force of his arousal.  He’s controlling me, ordering me to suck him,
commanding me to swallow, but I’m in control of him.  At this minute, his
climax belongs to me.

The high of the
moment flutters through my brain, I release his testicle, and return to the
glans of his cock by way of nipping the thick veins that pulse and cord around
his shaft.  Stretching my mouth wide, I take Nate’s cock inside, then
retreat.  His thickness hurts the corners of my lips and I know, by the
end of this, my jaw will kill.  Now, the high makes me forget why I
practically never give Nate a blowjob ̶ not out of selfishness, just
practicality ̶ and I begin to nibble on the glans.  Gently, but with
enough of a threat that he hisses and grabs me to him, cupping the side of my
face with a warning hand.  I accept the advice and cease to tease,
returning him to the hot cavern of my mouth.  With my lips spread wide
around his shaft, I smile and he groans. 

Feeling hot and
bothered, I lave his cock with my tongue, wet it, make it slippery with spit
and then move my head up and down until my mouth is gliding on his cock. 
With one hand, I grab his balls and roll them around my palm, gently pushing
together and massaging. 

He hasn’t moved
his hand away and it merely tightens as I start to suck him in earnest. 
Pulling him hard into my mouth, licking, fucking him with my lips, teeth and
tongue.  His fingers dig into my hair to the point of pain, but I don’t
let him stop me and as his lower body lifts an inch or two from the seat,
forcing his cock partway down my throat, I can feel cum jetting down his
throbbing shaft and down into my mouth.

I gag. 
There’s no pretty way of describing the sound, but it isn’t from the hot liquid
pouring from his dick, it’s the fact that for the first time in my life, I’m
actually deep throating a guy.

Unintentionally.

I don’t know
whether to be pissed off or proud of myself.  As it is, I guess I’m just
happy that I’ve done a good job.  From the sounds tearing free from him,
I’d say I passed with flying colors.  

Thank fuck for
that. 

His hips thrust
jerkily, almost as though he’s ringing every drop of pleasure from this
experience.  I let him, forcing myself to stay calm, to not panic, to
breathe slowly as he uses my throat for his own good.  When his hand
brushes my hair from my face, gentle sweeps that have me tingling with the
display of tenderness, he gradually works himself out of my mouth, a thin
strand of cum or spit ̶ I’m not sure which ̶ unites the pair of us.

I look up at him
and he looks at me.  Our eyes, his cock and my mouth connected in the
simplest of ways and at that moment, I know he’s right about me.   

I can’t say I’m
like Rosalie. 
That
into BDSM, I could become a professional
submissive.  But it’s there.  For this man, I have submissive
tendencies.

I don’t understand
it, can’t explain it, eventually I might be able to brazenly state, ‘I’m a
sub.’  As it is, for the moment, a
tendency
is a revelation in
itself.

His hand caresses
my mouth, gently probing the corners of my sore lips, where they’ve strained at
his thickness and he whispers, “You did very well, Marina.”

I want to ask if I
did well enough to cum, but I don’t.  I hold my tongue.

“You swallowed
every drop.  You took it like the gift it was.  Just for you. 
Nobody else.”  He sucks in a breath and as he exhales, smiles.  “It’s
time to get ready for the rest of the day.”

His pointed look
reminds me of something he said last night.  “May I shower, Nate?”

Another
smile.  He’s looking beatific at my fabulous memory.  And considering
I want nothing more than to cum, fabulous is an understatement.  It’s a
wonder I can talk, wonder I’m even coherent.

“Yes, the bathroom
is all yours.”

I nod and stagger
to my feet.  My pussy is so hot, it’s on fire.  I’ve never understood
that statement before, but by God, I do now.  I feel as though I could
hump his leg and cum.  One touch, a brush of his fingers against my clit
and BAM!  That would be it.  Arousal, heavy and as insidious as a
snake, wends its ways through my belly, sinking lower and lower until my legs
feel like lead with every step I take.

Just one little
touch.  One stroke. 

That’s all I’d
need.

Temptation
beckons, I just don’t know if I’m strong enough to withstand the lesson,
because that’s undoubtedly what this is.  A deterrent example, urging me
to learn that my body no longer belongs to me but is his.

Fuck, that thought
blows my mind.

In twelve hours,
I’ve gone from a slightly-subdued version of Marina Denison, to...
property? 

With the bathroom
door behind me, I fall against it and use it as a prop.  It’s too
much.  The very idea of not even having control over washing myself, of
having to consider each and every word before I speak, to do as he says or face
the consequences…  I’m freaked out.  Submissive overload.  But
that doesn’t stop my treacherous pussy from weeping cream or moistening my
inner thighs or craving Nate’s cock.

And that, says it
all.

****

The idea of having
to walk around the commune wetting my panties with cream, talking to people
I’ve known most of my life and being introduced to the new additions to the
commune, all while my body was on a slow burn... well, it was an intolerable
idea.

Nobody could
withstand it.  Nobody.  Moreover, no one should expect it of another
person.  How can I focus, concentrate on the task at hand, when I could
spontaneously combust at any second?  Because as disturbed as I am by the
introduction of discipline and power play into our relationship, my cunt
isn’t
. 

I. 
Need.  To.  Cum.

The instant the
water poured overhead in Nate’s bathroom, I wanted to slide my fingers down,
down.  Touch myself, bring myself to orgasm.  I thought about
it.  A lot.  I just stood there, letting the water pound on my head
as I contemplated my next move.

The ache between
my thighs was compounded by the ache at my butt.  The two seemed to work
together, in tangent to torture me, to tempt.  He
hadn’t
said I
couldn’t make myself cum.  But at the same time, he hadn’t said I
could.  I’m not stupid.  I know this kind of relationship isn’t based
on minute, conversational discrepancies.  Black and white; I’m to shower.

So why did my
fingers begin the crawl to my pussy?  And why, almost as though he
knew
what thoughts were going through my head, did the door to the shower fly
open at the exact same time as I caved in to temptation?

Perhaps he’d known
my intention, waited just long enough to catch me in the act, but as it was, I
hadn’t actually been doing anything.  He looked at me for a moment, his
eyes drifting down my body, probably measuring the distance from my hand to my
cunt, and then said, “Remember, you belong to me.  Every part of you.
 Even your orgasms.”

With that, he’d
shut the door and left me to my shower.

Even now, washed
and drying myself off with a towel, I realize the length of that internal
discussion saved me from punishment.  But strangely enough, I don’t find
pleasure in that.  Weird, or what?

I should be filled
with glee, self-congratulating myself for winning that round.  Instead, I
feel guilty.  It was sheer luck that he didn’t catch me.  Five
seconds later and I would have been doing exactly what he suspected.  How
can I be pleased about deceiving him?  When I’ve promised him, I wouldn’t.