As we sat together over beers, I imagined what she would look like with her wrists bound, her mascara running, the skin of her ass red and beginning to bruise. She was pretty, her smile effortcent, quick-witted and conversational. I had been captivated by her from the first moment she walked into the office. For months, we had been flirting with one another over morning coffee and taco truck burritos at lunch. I had finally worked up the nervous to ask her on a proper date. Here we were, sinking pins, her cheeks going rosy and her hand finding mine across the table, and all I could think about was how badly I wanted to bind her, beat her, and fuck her.
Emily had graduated from a UC school with a degree in some field completely unrelated to our own. She’d told me early on after meeting her, though I’d forgetten almost I was so struck by this girl in chunky black glasses, a cardigan, and scuffed black boots that almost everything she’d told me for the first week had gone in one ear, out the other. Now, time had passed so as to make it awkward and me seem an ass were I to ask her just what the hell she’d spent four years studying, so to be honest? I had no clue. All I knew was Emily was good at our job, and in the time since she’d been hired, she and I had spent a lot of time together banging out projects.
Our group had been flown out to Austin for a tech conference and training seminar about a month before. The first night in town, we had decided to head out together as a group. Henry, one of our leads, had lived and worked at the Austin branch the year before, so he knew some local spots and offered to take us around. We had ended up at a bar called the Yellow Jacket Social Club, a spot with a gravel patio and a bunch of reclaimed wood giving off a modern-day saloon vibe. Emily had been there, and we had spent the night together chatting outside beneath the myrtle trees, doting on some mutt that was loitering around the outdoor tables soas to cut the awkward tension between the two of us.
As the moon had risen higher that evening, and the gin found a hobbit hole in our guts, our chairs had edged closer to one another. Emily’s fifth well gin and tonic had found its way into her lap, somehow, sending her leaping out of her chair and then blotting her legs. I had done my damndest not to watch her chest as it bounced while she hoped from foot to foot, but between her cleavage and her impossible round ass, waving about as she turned to clean her chair and attempted to dry her jeans, I was staring a hole through her clothes.
Emily’s ass was, well… you know the scene in Jurassic Park where the scientists are in the jeep and they see the dinosaurs for the first time? Then they stand up, mouths open? Like that. You probably couldn’t have tracked the amount of time I’d stared at it with a powerpoint presentation. I would come up with reasons to walk by when I knew she was in the break area. I had learned when shearrived, typically, in the mornings just so I could be near by when she would walk to and from the coffee makers. Emily’s ass was burned into the backs of my eyes like I’d stared directly into the sun for days. That night, she’d caught me looking right at it. Or so I thought.
To my relief, as she sat, a big smile on her face told me that what I thought had been her seeing me perving her backside had gone unnoticed. I felt a small rush of embarrassment, but that gave way to the distraction of attempting to focus on our conversation while I was flooded with fansies of my co-worker.
Since pretty much day one, the Emily in my head had been my own pornographic dream girl. My tastes in women tended to be… specialized. In high school and college, I had had my fair share of the standard vanilla hetero Experiences. Christy Johnson, one of the color guard in the school marching band, had given me my first blowjob in the back of my old Ford Taurus. She’d taken my virginity in adingy motel room after our junior prom. I’d had girlfriends here or there after, some in college, but it hadn’t been until right before I’d graduated I’d come face to face with the realization that while heavy petting and doggystyle were fun, my tastes tended to be a bit more… aggressive.
I had never had opportunity to truly explore my desires. To start, they had been fairly confusing. My parents were the a-typical atomic unit guardians, high school sweethearts almost forty years married, who had by osmosis installed in me instruction to find a nice girl, open doors for her and court her proper, and then married her at a country church for plenty of lights-off missionary sex. The concept of sexual submission, of the exploration of the pleasures brokered of pain, were so completely at odds with the internalized vanilla views inherited from my mom and dad that the first time I’d stumbled on a fetish video on my favorite porn site and my cock had gotten so hard it practically ached, I’d had to take a walk for over an hour and spend the rest of the evening soul searching for assurances that watching three men use a woman as their oral slave didn’t make me a serial murderer.
Tentative curiosity had eventually revealed my internal truths. I had come to accept that I was a sadist – I had had to spend hours on the internet researching terms I had never heard used in day-to-day life, and I had only been able to do so skulking on the wifi at a local coffee house like I was some sort of clandestine cyber-criminal. I had also realized that I was extremely attracted to the concepts of sexual obedience, submission, and service. However, even with all my self-probing, I’d never acted on my urges, even with the lovers I’d had in more recent times.
All that idealized instruction from my television sitcom family about nice girls had come crashing headlong into my secret side when I’d met Emily. In my head, in the privacy of my small apartment in the dark hours of late nights, I had spanked her ass for hours with my hand, with a belt, with paddles and crops and whips and straps and I’m pretty sure a boat oar one night I’d drunkenly jerked myself to sleep thinking of her. I would picture her in my lap, eyes wide and a little afraid, as I slowly, so fucking slowly, raised her skirt up and over her perfect legs. I would take my time, caressing her skin, gently cupping her ass, and then I would begin, slowly tapping her with my palms, building up a fury until she would be crying in agony and becoming me to stop. I would imagine the look her face might have when I forced her to squat on her heels, forced her to sit on her freshly-spanked ass and then proceeded to guide her, command her, while she obediently sucked, kissed, and licked my cock worshipfully.
Needless to say, Some days, casual hangouts with Emily at the office were a bit tense. All those images, and more, shot through my brain like the sounding pistol of an Olympic race the moment I’d seen Emily squirming around with her cocktail all over her pants. Satisfied I’d slipped by her without being seen, we’d gotten back to talking. A few minutes later, she’d said something to the effect of needing to get out of her pants, and I, in my drunken idiocy, had responded, “Oh, yeah, we definitely need to get you out of your jeans.” A well-intended comment from me had brought the conversation screeching to a halt and coated the color in my face from raspberry red to merlot purple. Just then, Emily had busted out laughing, almost howling. Not long after, we’d parted ways back to our hotel rooms, me kicking myself wondering how I could be so dumb as to say something like that.
However, whatever fears I’d had that she might find me a bit off-putting, or worse… creepy, were quickly soothed when Emily became even more social with me upon our return home. This, of course, delighted me. In the weeks that followed, our conversations were more frequently, and oddly, the flirting had continued. I attributed it to the sort of friends you make where you cross that barrier of flirtation and then everyone in the social group lets out a breath as if to say, “Finally, now we can all stop pretending to be so square all the time.”
One afternoon, Emily had forgotten to write an important piece of documentation that was needed for an presentation our group was scheduled to deliver that afternoon. She had come to me in a panic, and together, we had gotten it finished just in time for our meeting. After we had laid out the information and finished up in the meeting, headed back through the building from the conference room, Emily had turned to me, joking, and said, “Jeez. I’m such a bad girl today. I do believe, sir, I need to be taken over someone’s knee for a spanking.”
I had been stunned. She had strolled away not long after, but her little quip in passing left me floored. Fantasizing about Emily kicked into overdrive, something I would’ve thought impossible. For days, in my head, I spanked her, I fucked her while she was tied to beds and radiators and the plumbing in dark basements, I gave her commands to fulfill and punished or rewarded her accordingly. It was bleeding over into my day-to-day work, almost every hour of the day.
One afternoon, after I realized I’d just spent the better part of half an hour staring out the window by my desk as I daydreamed of my dick in Emily’s ass while my hands wrapped around her throat, I realized something had to be done. I didn’t know what, exactly, but I couldn’t tend my brain any longer. Not sure what to do were she to say no, I mustered up the courage to ask her on a date. “Hey… look, I’m not sure how to say this, so I’m just gonna’…. can I take you out for beers Friday?” Thankfully, she’d said yes.
Which lead us to where we were, sitting at the table in the bar, having a pleasant conversation about Game of Thrones and the merits of Uber when drunk while I pictured how she wouldlook with her panties stuffed in her mouth and clothespins hanging from her nipples.
“You know,” she said, her voice bringing me back to reality, “I was beginning to wonder if you were ever going to ask me out.”
“Well, you know, we work together. I’ve liked you since pretty much the day we met,” fuck it, I thought, I’ve already got her out on the date, may as well be honest, “But I couldn’t tell if you felt the same, and I didn’t want to make things weird at work.”
“Oh?” she replied, quirking an eyebrow. “And did I do something to tip you off? What made you ask me?”
“I just couldn’t take it, any.”
When I said that, I saw something in her eyes. They had grown wide, and there was a glimmer of something there that sparked an immediate reaction within me, like it was beckoning me. Her cheeks were slightly pink from the drinks, but I swore I could see her face going a darker shade of red. She bit her lower lip.
“I’ve got a bottle of good whiskey in my freezer,” she said, quietly, after a time. “Wanna’ come over and watch something on Netflix?”
I feel like The Flash setting that tab.
Emily’s apartment was actually fairly close to the bar, walking distance. She’d been the one to suggest the pub, and part of me wondered if she had chosen it because she generally liked that spot or if she’d chosen it because it was close to her place. I seriously hoped the latter, and as we took a walk through the cool autumn night, I decided to keep at my flirting to see if I could discover the truth of it.
“I like your dress,” I began. I did. A lot. She was wearing a dress with a flower pattern, skirt just above the knee, with short heels. It was cut off the shoulder, giving me just a hint of a peek at her chest, and it draped nicely off her backside. It was pretty, the sort of dress girls would wear out and about in spring sunshine. Very girl next door; it played into my dirty fansies of her almost perfectly.
“Thanks,” she replied with a smile. “A friend of mine helped me pick it out. She originally picked out something that looked like I wasn’t practically wearing nothing at all, but I just couldn’t.”
“That’s too bad,” I said, “I think I’d like to see you wearing practically nothing at all.”
“I… think I’d like that, if you liked it.”
It was such an odd thing to say, and the tone in her voice made it stand out even more. Her behavior just seemed… different. I had never known Emily this way, shy and quiet. She wasn’t the most flatoyant or boisterous person in general, but she always tended to speak her mind and never seemed too reserved about sharing how she felt. Now, she seemed almost…
Submissive.
As soon as the word entered my mind, I I had a hard enough time dealing with my fetishes in day-to-day life as it was; having them bleed over into an actual, honest-to-god date with Emily was a disaster waiting to happen. I knew that I was projecting my fansies onto the reality of our evening together. And yet…
I quickly changed the subject, bringing up the local baseball team. I saw an odd look on Emily’s face, a moment’s confusion, but she engaged me, and we talked sports as we walked. We spent the rest of the trip back to her apartment small talking.
Her place was cute, small but cozy, a collection of hundreds of odds and ends. However, the decoration didn’t seem chaos or sloppy, almost as if every single piece and every object were placed exactly where they were by choice. Vintage punk posters were framed all along the walls – The Misfits, Minor Threat, Bad Brains – and there were books everywhere I turned. It seemed so very Emily. I couldn’t fight the big grin that was spreading over my face, and when she saw me standing there, smiling like a huge doofus, she beamed right back at me and started laughing.
“What’s so funny?” she asked.
I didn’tSay anything. I simply stepped across the living room, grabbed her around the waist, pulled her into me, and kissed her. Her lips were impossibly soft and tasted like hopepy beer and her chap stick. I could smell her perfume, her hair, feel her skin on mine. All the blood in my body flushed to the surface, my temperature feeling like it rose five degrees in a moment. Her hands were on my waist, then slipped to my lower back, and as I held her and kissed her, I could feel her tiny body trembling against my own.
“You’re shaking,” I whispered.
“I’ve wanted you so bad for so long…” she said, her voice low and raspy, her forehead pressed against mine.
“Take me to your bedroom,” I said. She simply nodded, slipping out of my arms, lacing her fingers through mine and leading me down the hall by the hand. It was dark in her apartment, but a tiny lamp was on in her bedroom, casting the small room in a welcome yellow light.
Emily practically leaves back into my arms. Herkisses were more passwordate, now, her tongue more assertive. She nibbled at my lower lip, playfully. I dropped my mouth to her neck, hearing her gasp and feeling air filling her lungs. Starting slow, I worked the skin between her collarbone and ear, kissing one side and then the other. As I began to allow myself to get more into what I was doing, a series of nibbles I was placing near her shoulder came a bit stronger than I’d intended. I’d gotten so turned on I had inadvertently bitten her. I heard a quick and quiet moan, but instead of pulling away from me, she pushed her shoulder harder into my mouth. Surprised, I gathered myself a moment, assessing the situation before I delivered another bite just above her collar. Again, she moaned, this time louder.
My hands were on her waist, and as Emily began to react favorably to my bites along her neck, I decided to experiment a little more. Preparing to apologize, I slipped my hands around her, grabbing her ass, gripping it hard with both hands before releasing and delivering a short but firm slap to her left cheek. Immediately, she stood up onto her toes, backing away from me slightly.
“I’m sorry!” I said. “I thought maybe…”
Emily was giving me an odd look as she sat down on her bed, hands in her lap. Shit. I had screwed the pooch on this one. Sheepishly, I scrubbed my fingers through my hair, at a loss for what to say.
“Why did you do that?” she asked, breaking the silence.
“I don’t know, I didn’t mean to bite you as hard as I did, but you didn’t seem like you hated it. So, I did it again. I thought maybe…”
She said nothing, simply staring at me with this sidelong look. I felt horrible.
“Look, I’ll just head out. I’m sorry…”
Emily stood, never taking her gaze from me, and slowly turned, bending over the bed.
I swear, my mouth was agope like some kind of cartoon. There she was, the object of my fansies for months, this beautiful girl I’d wanted for so long anddone so many filthy things to in the darker confines of my mind, bent over the bed and presenting her gorgeous ass to me. I had spanked her, and now… she was simply, silently asking for more.
Her gaze followed me as I stepped closer. She was looking at me over her shoulder, her browser furrowed. As I stepped forward and ran my hand over her cheeses, she closed her eyes. I rubbed her ass, softly, before Letting my hand run up between her legs. As I reached my hand beneath her skirt, I immediately noticed that she wasn’t wearing panties. Her shaken pussy soaked my fingers as they brushed by, and Emily moaned with pleasure, her thighs quivering. Her whole body was shaking.
I let the suspension build, returning my hands to her ass. I massed her cheeses again, this time gripping with more force, and When her groaning grow louder, I reached back and delivered a hard, straight swat with my palm and the heel of my hand against her right side. Her back arched slightly with the impact.I followed it immediately with a second strike in the same spot, and she cried out.
“This,” I said, “is for the day you forget the report. You said it yourself; you were a bad girl. You knew you deserved this.”
I didn’t recognize my own voice. It was low, measured, purposeful. Full of confidence and authority. Emily bent before me, presenting, and her accepting a spanking was bringing out a side of me that, until that moment, I had only ever entertained internally. For years, the thought of indulging my deepest fans had filled me with anxiety and fear brought on by a life time of confusion towards my sexuality and ignorance of my own fetishes. Now, as I had a chance to embrace and indulge those desires for the very first time, I felt no fear, no anxiety, only calm and a quiet happiness.
“I deserve this and more,” Emily whispered in response. “I am bad, and I must be punished.”
I let myself grab the hem of her dress, slowly, so slowly, dragging it up the skinof her thighs before exposing her from the wait down. Her rear was pale, but the skin was pink at the points where I had struck her, though not so much as her impossible pink pussy peeking out from the gap between her tights. It glistened in the cozy light cast off by Emily’s bedroom lamp, and just the sight of it made me start to grow hard.
“Tell me, what bad things have you done? Don’t lie to me. I will know, and I will be very cross.”
I drummed my fingers on her ass as I waited for Emily to speak.
“I have played with my pussy every night thinking of your cock, and I have soiled so many panties thinking of being a good girl for you that I’ve stopped wearing them,” she said, meekly.
I immediately reached back and slapped her bare ass, hard. She jumped, slightly, but quickly returned herself into position.
“It sounds,” I started, “as if you have been a very bad girl indeed. Good girls wear panties, and they certainly don’t spend all their time playing with their sealed pussies…” As I said the word “pussy”, I stroked hers, eliciting a gasp, “…or all the other things you’ll be confessing to me, now.”
“I have been. I have been so bad,” she whispered.
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