Every morning, the standard rule is to present myself to you immediately after my shower. I never really know what to expect of course; that’s part of the game. At one time, a hug. At another time, you’d get me just the point of “inflating” and send me on my way. Many times, it’s marks.
Today was no exception. You decide you’d make sure everything was well, check the cage, leave behind some teeth impressions. It’s always just enough to get the rush initiated, but never enough to do any more than that. To call it wonderfully frustrating might be a good description. I love these times.
You send me on my way back to finish getting ready – and when I come out for work, walk over, shove me back on the couch and stand over me. While I was gone, you somehow managed to quickly and quietly change into a very hot outfit. I’m grinning Thinking all those thoughts that a guy thinks when he sees this… Suddenly horny thoughts.
Without saying a word you reach down and pull me to you with my tie. It’s a swift move that I didn’t expect and the pull force isn’t messing around. Your face changes from kidding around to serious.
I wasn’t worried before. But now I am. I am quickly trying to figure out if I’ve done something, or missed something or … the thoughts are racing around in my head as you stare me down. Which, of course, is what you want. You’re staring at me, letting it sink in, holding me close. When you think I’ve had enough you smirk at me, and push me back on the couch.
“Oh, you didn’t think you’d get any of *this* this morning did you?” You stand up straight, hands on your hips, mocking me.
I know better. I don’t say a word. You run a finger through your sex and press it into my mouth. I start to raise my hands to you, but your stare turns icy cold. I stop and pull my arms back.
You lean in and slowly undo my tie. My shirt. You pull them both off – I start to say something about getting to work and you remind me that you have access to my calendar. You know full well I have time.
You put a single finger under my chin and pull me up out of the couch.
“Seems to me you need a little reminder while you’re at work about what’s in store for you later. Wouldn’t want you to forget…”
You place me face-first against the wall and put my arms out – I feel you start rubbing my back with your hands – then rubbing up and down lightly with your nails for a couple of passes. You massage my shoulder for about 2 seconds, then stop, gripping me hard in the shoulders.
You spin me around, tell me to put my hands behind my head.
You look straight into my eyes – it’s like you’re looking inside me. You reach around behind me, press your nails sharply into my flesh and pull them down slowly on my back.
The pain is sharp instantly. I can feel the small grind of your nails on my flesh. I can feel you drawing down on my back, scratching, clawing at me. I close my eyes and you immediately stop.
“No. You look at me. Now!”
When I open my eyes, yours are locked on mine. It’s an instant erotic high even as my back cries out when your hands start moving down my back again.
When you get to my waist, you make a point of going below my pant line with your nails, then rubbing up my back with the palms of your hands. What should feel good, feels abrasive, grinding on my back. Your hands make their way back up to the top of my back and shoulders, never breaking my gaze.
You repeat this. I can feel you crossing the lines from the previous paths down my back. It’s like a bunch of tiny boat wakes, criss-crossing my back. You make a point of moving diagonally at points, just to cross those lines.
Every time I think I’m going to lose it, I re-focus on your eyes. It’s like you’re willing the pain out of me, into you, pulling it in for energy. You have this evil, but “This feels so GOOD” grin on your face the whole time, pulling the energy you crave from me.
My back is stinging, crying out. After another pass, you pull me to you, hugging me.
Finally, after the fire on my back has slowed to a dull roar and my breathing is more controlled, you step back, give me a kiss, and return with a warm wash cloth to dab at my back.
You hand me my shirts and tie without saying a word more about it. I head out to work and spend the entire day wondering exactly what, and how much more, you have planned.