Power

He is powerful: bending her will to his, bending her body to his, shaping her pleasure, her position, her submission with his hands. Tonight, she has a request. “Give me power.”

“Tell me how,” he says, amused.

“Hold my hands,” she whispers, smirking. “Don’t let go. Direct me with your mouth; direct me with your body. But don’t let go of my hands; you can’t direct me with your hands.” She smiles at him, expecting protest. His eyelids lower, but he smiles and agrees.

She holds her hands up; he links his fingers with hers. He moves closer, kissing her gently, kneading her fingers slightly between his. He backs her up against the wall; she can feel the faux chair rail pressing against her rear. He kisses her more insistently now, pressing his hips into her. It is just like she imagines: his warm kisses, becoming more fierce, his tongue seeking hers, his body pressing against hers.

He stretches her arms over her head, never letting go of her fingers. Now he is sucking her lips hard, nearly drawing blood. He sucks her tongue into his mouth; it feels like he might rip it from her mouth. His hips buck against her; the chair rail pushes back. He pushes one leg between her legs, grinding his thigh into her crotch.

He pulls her hands down to shoulder height, and tears his mouth away from hers. He begins kissing her neck, gently biting at the skin, nipping her ear lobes. She is frantic, her head turning from side to side. Each time she exposes the skin on her neck, he attacks, raking his teeth against the fragile skin. He slides down, puts his mouth directly over her breast, through the thin fabric of her shirt. He breathes against the fabric; the heat reaches her skin just as he bites down, pinching her nipple slightly and making her cry out. He covers her mouth with his, kissing her hard and deep. He pauses, leaving her breathless, but only long enough to relax before he bites down on the other breast.

Now he kneels, pulling her hands down with him, at her side. He uses his teeth to move her sweater, biting her exposed stomach. He moves his mouth farther down, breathing into her mound through the thin fabric of her skirt. Her hips move to meet him. He uses his teeth to scrape against her through the skirt, and she grinds her hips into his mouth. She is panting now, and he uses his teeth and their linked hands to pull the elastic waistband over her hips, leaving her standing in the small lacy panties with her skirt around her ankles. He uses his mouth to push aside the fabric of her panties, sucking her wet pussy into his mouth forcefully, making her cry out again.


His fingers are kneading, squeezing, cutting off the circulation to her hands. “Touch me,” she manages to whisper. He pulls back, looking up at her slyly. “I can’t,” he says, shrugging, holding up their linked hands. “Your rules.” She can barely breathe, barely think.

Her desperation makes her give in, and she releases his hands. There is a moment of silent tension, expectant. He rises, takes both hands and lays them on either side of her face, kissing her gently. She’s trembling from the effort of standing still. She kisses him back, waiting.

Then he grabs the rest of her clothes, fluidly stripping her. She hears a seam give; she doesn’t care. She’s naked before him and he tears his own clothes off, standing before her, hard, his eyes dark. He spins her around, and pushes her down on the bed. She falls, and he’s straddling her before she can do anything. He puts a knee between her legs, forcing them open, falling heavy on top of her. Penetrating her, but not before he grabs her hands, holding them high above her head, pinned to the bed. She’s wide-eyed, expecting the hurt. But she’s wet, and he slips in easily. She feels only a dull ache with each thrust, though it’s starting to build to that edge. She struggles to pull her hands free, to hold him, to bring him closer. But he keeps her hands pinned, kissing her hard, so she can hardly breathe. He’s thrusting harder and faster; she writhes beneath him, trapped, her hands useless. She feels the wave coming; she wants to say something. But his mouth covers hers, absorbing her cries and her frantic attempts at speech. He moves faster and harder, and then she’s lost, the blood pounding in her ears as the pent up tension releases. She feels him tense, feels his hands holding hers tightly. He pulls his mouth away to look down on her as his own orgasm rocks his body, making him groan.

He collapses on her, exhausted. She waits for her heart to slow. As she attempts to pull her hands from his, hoping to wrap her arms around him, he tightens his grip on her hands, stretching her arms farther above her head, trapping her. He kisses her gently on the neck as he sprawls across her, in complete control.