Be A Good Boy

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Patrick

Patrick is a fit, 45-year-old divorcé. Patrick works night shifts as an ER doctor. Patients and colleagues are constantly throwing themselves at him but he prefers not to mix business with pleasure. Instead, he mixes pleasure with pain.

Sabrina

A 42-year-old dominatrix, Sabrina takes special care with each of her clients. She’s equal parts gentle and stern. Sabrina never intends on getting married, claiming she’s married to her work.

It was the look in his eyes that aroused me the most, that scared yet horny expression that spoke of how urgent his need was. Every time he looked at me this way, the dominance in me flared with empowered purpose, as if he was a way of telling myself just how much of a badass goddess I was. As if I didn’t secretly already know.

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Be A Good Boy Be A Good Boy

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Be A Good Boy

It was the look in his eyes that aroused me the most, that scared yet horny expression that spoke of how urgent his need was. Every time he looked at me this way, the dominance in me flared with empowered purpose, as if he was a way of telling myself just how much of a badass goddess I was. As if I didn’t secretly already know.

When he’d first come to me, he’d been a shy man. So self conscious and in his own head that he couldn’t see that there was much he could offer to a lover, all he had to do was find his strengths. Given that he’d come to me out of the other women available, I knew that his strength lay in the submissive, in being devoured by someone else. The first time I’d put this to him, he’d blushed the deepest shade of red, his eyes nervously flitting about as he tried to find an excuse to explain away him being here. It had been adorably amusing. He was still just as adorable, but a lot more pliable now that I’d been able to mould him; his inhibitions had been peeled back to reveal a wanton man who needed direction in order to be satisfied. Direction only I could give him.

On the floor between us, suctioned into place, was a large and rather forboding black dildo. To a novice, the sheer size of it would make them wince, but to someone like him, it was a size he’d welcome with open arms… well, maybe not his arms, but he’d definitely be welcoming. My eyes roving from the dildo to his face again, I search for a response, a means of reading his mind without him speaking. Just as always, he’s an open book, his words pouring out of him in nothing more than a glance. He was nervous, unsure even, but he also had a look of excitement etched into the gentle lines of his face.

Keen though I am to see him submit to me in this way, I still seek his complete consent and approval before doing so, just to make sure that he’s comfortable with what our session will bring.

“Patrick, you know we can save this for another time,” I suggest. “I don’t want to push you before you’re ready.” A truth I don’t mind admitting; some women relish breaking their subs, but I find that incredibly distasteful. Why abuse them against their wishes when you can abuse them in such delightful, agreed ways? All it takes is knowing what they need and where their limits lie.

“No, I want to do this.” Comes his soft reply, his eyes boring into mine so that I can see for myself the certainty of his decision. It’s just as I expected, not that I’d admit that right now.

Remaining seated, I extend a long finger in a come-hither motion, beckoning for him to come to me. Ever the obedient lover, Patrick moves the moment he sees my signal, his body fluid in the way it adapts to my command. Once he’s standing in front of me, his head cast downwards to watch for further instruction, I take one of his hands and raise it to my lips, giving it the lightest kiss. It’s not a symbol of affection I use often, and very rarely for paying clients, but I suppose it’s wrong of me to still group him in as “just another client”, not with how he makes me feel.

“I want you to undress for me. Slowly.” I instruct, the thrill of having him at my command already sending tingles throughout my body, a sensation that only grows as he starts to undress. Just as I ordered him to, he takes his time, making sure to unbutton every button agonisingly slowly. Every aspect of him is in high definition slow motion, laid out for me to soak in his awkwardly shy beauty. “Good. Now, I want you to turn around so that your back’s to me.” There’s a flicker of surprise on his features now, but it disappears as soon as it arrives.

His back soon facing me, I reach out my hands and begin to lightly drag my nails down the soft curves of his skin, the trials of my journey alight with faint red lines. As I claw down to the bottom of his back and to the top of his buttocks, Patrick moans in response, the hairs on his body standing to attention as I coax more arousal from deep within him. I want to stay on him now, to paint marks all over his body, but that is for another time.

Saddened though I am to momentarily pull away from him, when I return with the glob of lube on my fingertips, my pulse races with anticipation as I wipe the gel between his cheeks, my tips grazing then massaging the textured flesh there. At first he gasps from the cold touch of the substance, but then his gasp comes from the way I’m teasing him. When my finger pushes lightly against him is when he truly moans for me. Patrick tilts his head back ever so slightly, his mouth parted as he groans with every move my fingers make. Once he’s nicely lubed up for me, I gently ease my middle finger inside him.

“Mmmmm, yes… that feels in—”

“Did I say you could speak?” I ask, cutting across his pleasured, breathy groans. Suddenly he falls silent, his voice turning into husky whimpers as I work my finger deeper, my fingertip stroking while the rest of my finger slowly rotates to loosen him up. He feels incredible. And so vulnerable and exposed — in this state, I could do whatever my sinful mind desires and he’d obey. Knowing all of the possibilities before me, I have to stifle my own sighs of pleasure at the very thought of them all.

The tension that was initially in his body, that first resistance upon entry, quickly ebbs away, ready for me to slide in my index finger to join the other. Stretched around my fingers, his muscles contract around me, his body humming with energy as he lightly starts to bounce against my hand. Shifting my weight so that I can stand, I move myself so that my chest is pressed against his bare back, our bodies sandwiched close like urgent, searching lips reacting to a kiss. Yet still, it isn’t close enough.

I wrap my free arm around him and grip him tightly, his abs strong under my palm as I push him further into me. Then, only when I’m satisfied that we can’t get any closer, do I begin to lower my hand to stroke his cock. After all the waiting and yearning I’ve built in these teasing moments, Patrick is engorged with desire, his shaft thick and quivering to attention as I firmly take hold.

“Ohhhh, Christ, yes,” He breathes, forgetting my words from earlier. Glad of his slip up, I nuzzle into his neck, just below his earlobe, my lips almost touching him.

“If you utter another word, I’m going to make you bark like the dog you are, do you hear me?” The nod of his head informs me that he does. Although I welcome his obedience, I’m almost sad that he doesn’t rebel, so twitchy is my hand at the idea of holding my cane up high as I strike against his bare ass…

Confident that I fully have his attention, I finally pry myself away from his alluring frame, my constricted fingers the last to leave him. I can tell the sudden absence is disappointing for him. Oh, if only he knew what was coming!

“I want you to turn around and face me now,” I command, his response as instantaneous as ever. Now that his face is looking at mine, I can see the wonderfully pink hue of his flushed cheeks and his lust filled eyes; he’s intoxicated, completely lost in the moment. He’s a vision.

“Good, very good. Now I want you to lower yourself down onto that dildo and fuck it until I tell you to stop. Understand?” I raise a finger quickly, to ensure he knows not to speak. Right on cue, he simply nods his head, his eyes focused only on me. “If you come before I tell you to, you’ll be punished.” I can’t help but grin at the way his eyes flash with excitement at the thought of me punishing him. Even in spite of his natural obedience, he can’t help but be tempted by the pain.

The room now still save for the charged atmosphere of the air, Patrick moves to position himself over the tip of the dildo, the fresh lube he’s just applied scenting the air with its subtle aroma. As he begins to squat over it, he uses his hands to part his cheeks, ensuring that there’s no obstacles to his penetration. When the light squelch of lube fills my ears, the end of the dildo now disappearing from view, the wetness between my legs seeps from between my lips to line my knickers.

I watch, transfixed, as he continues to lower himself, taking more inches of the large cock as he slides down it. His face is twisted into the most carnal expression, his eyes glazed over as if he’s drunk. The more he takes, the more shallow his breathing gets. His muscles flex as he finally pushes the last inch inside of him. Then, to my absolute pleasure, he begins to slide up and down the ridged shaft without any instruction from me; I allow him a few minutes to adjust and create a steady pace, but then my greed gets the better of me.

“Faster.” I tell him, my eyes on fire with the sexual aggression pouring out of me. “I want you to take that cock hard and fast like the slut you are. Answer me.”

“Yes… yes, Mistress.”

“Good boy.”

Leaving him to bounce vigorously on the spot, his body glistening with sweat as he works himself to fever pitch, I walk over to my drawer and take out my strap-on. Having donned this many times over, it’s an effortless process to fasten the straps into place, my large cock a sight to behold as I stride back over to him.

“Open that pretty mouth of yours for me.” I ordered him. Hastily, Patrick opens his moist mouth wide to take my hardness into the warm, wet recesses that lie beyond.

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