Playing her Part

The stocking on my left leg rolled down.

Again.

Putting my glass of wine on the ledge of the fireplace, I bent over, gently grasped the lacy top of the black hold-up, and pulled it higher over my thigh. Straight-away it started falling. Fighting the urge to scream, I once more adjusted the stocking.

Again, it fell.

This was ridiculous. In the corset, lacy panties, stockings and high heels, I was supposed to be radiating ‘sexy.’ All I felt was ‘stupid.’ Maybe this was a silly idea after all?

I fastened my bathrobe, retrieved my wine, and sulkily slumped onto the sofa. Should I call him and tell him I’d changed my mind? When we’d discussed all this three days ago, we’d got so turned on, we’d ended up screwing again.

But, what seemed like a clever idea seventy-two hours ago, in the warm glow of arousal, now seemed absurd.

Even the living room looked daft. I’d swapped the large, upright lamp that normally sat in the corner of the room for the smaller, softer light that lived on my bedside table, and had lit three, short, red candles and lined them up on the shelf of the fireplace.

I’d been hoping to create an intimate, romantic atmosphere. But all I’d done is turn the small, cluttered living room of my compact terraced house into a murky cave.

Yes – this was all utterly ludicrous. And not the kind of thing that a sane, thirty-nine-year-old woman should be doing. My mind was made up – playtime was over.

Plus, it was still early. If I cancelled now, I’d be able to go and pick up Adam from my sister’s. My son would be upset at not having a sleepover at his cousin’s but I could combat that with pizza and ‘Star Wars.’ And that was a much more sensible way for me to spend the night.

All I had to do now was pick the phone laying next to me and dial.

But I didn’t. I simply stared at the device and took a long sip of my wine...

My mobile beside me buzzed. It was a text.

From Ben.

“Looking forward to tonight,” I read. “I’ve got my mean head on.”

I hesitated.

His mean head.

As silly as I currently felt, did I still want to do this?

I took another long sip of my wine and thought….

From the very beginning it had been easy to talk to him. He was clever and funny and, although – superficially – we didn’t appear to share many common interests (whereas he loved horror movies, I’m too terrified to have even thought about watching one), the conversation flowed.

However, we did have one important thing in common; a son each and an ex-spouse who’d left us in a less than noble way.

Although we’d only been messaging a week, I didn’t hesitate when Ben suggested we meet. As he said, it was obvious we were getting along in cyberspace – there was no point in delaying meeting up in reality.

So, with Adam safely deposited at my sister’s, I’d made my way across London to Covent Garden, and the Yew Tree public house. It was a warm, autumnal evening and, while the tables outside were full of couples enjoying a rare, sunny evening, the pub inside was practically empty.

To my relief, Ben looked exactly like his profile picture. Whereas my ex-husband had been tall, rangy, and dark-haired, Ben was blonde and compact. In one of my first (slightly drunken) messages, I’d told him he resembled Daniel Craig. He replied with heartfelt thanks but added that he wished he had the current 007’s physique; however, his fondness for Mexican food would ensure that never happened.

In real-life, the resemblance to Daniel Craig was even more noticeable. And, like 007, he too was a smart dresser. Ben was wearing dark jeans, a light blue shirt, and light grey jacket – an ensemble Seb would never have been seen dead in. Yes, he was few inches shorter than my ex-husband but, in every other way, he was a massive improvement.

And my instincts had been right – he was special.

He asked about my life, my work, and wanted to know all about Adam. In turn, he answered all the questions I put to him about his life. About his job as a insurance underwriter (“dull, but pays the mortgage”), about his son, Luke (“a potential heart-breaker when he’s older”), and about his tiny, compact terrace house in Kilburn (“run-down but it’s home”).

We also talked about our childhoods, families, politics, films, and everything else in between.

And he was funny! No-one had ever made me laugh like he had.

It was obvious there was a spark. We’d started the night sitting opposite each other but, after returning from the bar with the third drink of evening, Ben had sat next to me. Over the next two hours, we’d gone from our knees occasionally touching, to holding hands. As the physical contact increased, so did my desire. Yes, I liked Ben.

But I also wanted to…

Well, I wanted to fuck him. Pure and simple.

Although I could count on one hand the number of times I’d had sex over the last five years, I hadn’t felt desperate when I’d arrived at the pub earlier. However, Ben awakened something in me, something carnal.

Something dirty.

It wasn’t just the way he looked: it was his kindness, intelligence, and that sense of humor. Those qualities made me want to screw him even more. By closing time, I was in lust with him. The moisture at the juncture of my thighs was threatened to turn into a torrent. Yes, I wanted to be his partner.

But I also wanted his mouth on my pussy, and his cock inside me.

Two hours later, we were naked in my bed. There was nothing vanilla about the sex. We’d fucked, passionately and brutally. Once we’d recovered from our first orgasm, I’d sucked his sizable cock until he’d unleashed his load into my mouth.

And then it was my turn.

As he started to probe my folds with his tongue, I’d squirmed. He’d stopped and looked up at me.

“Who said you could move?”

I shuddered.

And something came alive inside of me.

The desire to give up control.

To let someone else take charge.

To be dominated.

The next morning, holding each other in bed, we’d talked – again – for hours.

We’d discussed how well the evening had gone – how easy it had been to talk to each other, how much we’d loved spending time with each other, and about the sex. Oh, yes; we talked a lot about the sex!

I’d asked if there was anything I’d done that he hadn’t liked. The answer was a resounding no! He then asked me the same question: again, no. But, I said, there was something he did that I’d really, really liked. And something that I wouldn’t mind exploring a bit more.

So, I told him.

“I suppose I could be mean,” Ben said, after listening to me.

I felt myself become aroused, instantly.

“We’d need a safe word,” Ben said. “Just in case you’re not liking it. Or if I’m being too rough. I don’t want to hurt you.”

I was certain that a safe word wouldn’t be needed. I wanted to do this far too much. But, as Ben was worried, I wanted to salve his fears.

“Okay,” I said, thinking. “How about ‘007’?”

He smiled at me.

“Let’s do it.”

And then we fucked again. ..

I felt my pussy come alive as I recalled that morning.

My trepidation weakened. Did I want to…?

There was a knock at the front door.

I thought about taking off my heels but I’d promised I’d wear them for him. If I decided not to go through with it, he at least deserved to see me in them. Even if it was only for a minute.

I stood and, careful not to bump into anything in the near blackness, stumbled out of the living room and into the hallway. Through the frosted-glass of the front-door, I could see the outline of his shadow.

Slowly, I walked down the corridor. Lifting my hand, I grasped the tiny, gold, oval knob and unlocked the door.

Ben stood on the porch, his face tinged orange by the glow of the street lights. He always dressed smartly but I’d never seen him in a suit or a neck-tie before. Until tonight. He was dressed as if we were going for a meal at an exclusive restaurant.

And he looked good. Whereas I felt awkward, he looked calm. Composed.

He stepped in, I stepped back, and he closed the door behind him.

“Look,” I began. “I’m not…”

I never got the chance to finish.

Holding me by the hips, he turned me round and gently pushed me forward against the wall.

“Don’t move,” he said.

“Why…?” I was silenced by his hand reaching around and smothering my open mouth.

“Did I say you could speak?”

I shook her head.

“If you can’t control yourself, I’ll have to take drastic measures,” he said.

He spoke quietly but with certainty. His hand pushed ever more firmly against my mouth. I could also feel his hard cock rubbing against my palm.

I had no doubts any more – I wanted this.

I was aroused.

I was wet.

He leant closer. I could feel his breath on my cheek.

“I don’t want to, but I will gag you,” he said. “I’ll remove your moist panties and stuff them in your mouth. Understand?”

I nodded, dizzy with lust. But, at the same time, I thought about making a little noise. To see if he would do as he threatened. Because I wanted him to do it.

I wanted to be gagged.

To be helpless.

At his mercy.

But, I resisted the urge – something primal told me it was too soon to push him. After all, wasn’t delayed gratification the best kind?

He lifted his hand away from my mouth, and reached around my tummy and grabbed hold of the end of the dressing gown belt. Firmly, he tugged, and the robe fell open.

The muscles in my stomach tingled as he ran fingertips over the surface of my corset.

“And what do we have here?”

Slowly, his fingers moved downwards, towards my legs. Gently, he massaged the top of the stocking on my left leg.

“You are a dirty little girl, aren’t you?”

His hand moved upwards and skimmed across the lacy black pants hiding my hungry cunt. I groaned again.

“We’re going upstairs” Ben said, his fingers gently exploring my inner thighs. “Once we’re in the bedroom, I’m going to undress you and you’ll lie on the bed. Then I’m going to tie you to the bed. If you’re good, it’ll just be your hands that are bound. Misbehave and I’ll tie your legs down as well. Do you understand?”

“But I’ve got the living room ready,” I said. “I’ve got…”

He grabbed my hair and pulled my head back.

“Fuck the living room. We’re going upstairs. Okay?”

I nodded.

“Good,” he replied, releasing my hair. “Now, go.”

Ben swung me around, pushing me towards the stairs. Eagerly, I climbed the stairs. God, I couldn’t wait to get the bedroom.

The stairs were covered in a blood-red carpet – one of the many issues of contention in mine and Seb’s marriage. He’d never liked the shade, seeing it as too ostentatious, too garish; I felt it added colour to an otherwise bland hallway. In a rare victory, my view had won.

However, I regretted that tonight. The carpet was luxuriously thick and, in the heels, my legs found it hard-going. Half-way up, I tripped and fell.

My left knee thudded into the edge of a stair, and pain flared up my entire leg. But, no sooner had I hit the ground than Ben was lying on top of me. His hard cock prodded me in the small of my back.

I yelped as he viciously pulled my hair once more.

“Did I say you could lie down?”

His tone was cruel, spiteful.

“I fell…,” I began. “Tripped.”

“Don’t do it again.”

Holding onto the back of my arms, he pulled me to my feet.

“Move,” he said, pushing me forward. I concentrated on each step I made, trying not to stumble again. Part of me, though, wanted to fall – I’d loved having him on top of me, his dick thrusting into my back. However, he had of my hair tightly, keeping me upright, so I couldn’t trip. He didn’t allow it.

His grip didn’t lessen once we’d reached the top of the stairs. If anything, it increased as he pushed me forwards across the landing, towards my bedroom.

I’d drawn the curtains when I’d got changed into ‘the outfit’ and the room was dark.

“Stay there,” Ben commanded and walked over to the large, upright lamp I’d moved up to my room earlier in the day from the living room. He switched it on and slowly turned around, inching towards me, a cruel smile on his handsome face.

But I couldn’t take my eyes off the outline of his huge cock pressed against the fabric of his suit trousers.

“Turn around,” Ben said.

I didn’t. Let’s see what he’ll do, I thought.

His reply was instant. With one hand, he clutched my hair. But this time his grip was firm, painful. With his other hand, he gripped my throat. Ever so slowly, he started to squeeze. It felt as if every nerve in my body was on the verge of combustion.

“Don’t test me, dirty girl,” he whispered. “Turn.”

This time, I did. My urge to resist was diminishing. Suddenly it felt right to obey him. I also sensed he was building up to something, and I wanted to discover what that was more than I wanted to fight.

He reached up to my shoulders and pulled the dressing gown off. With a muffled thud, it fell to the ground by my feet.

“What a little slut you are,” he sneered, caressing the red corset.

His mean words made me shiver.

Starting at the top, he undid the fasteners of the corset. Not once did his fingers struggle with the clasps. But standing still for him was becoming more difficult as my lust for him grew. My warm center was throbbing in anticipation at what was to come. Finally, the corset was undone.

Like the dressing grown, Ben let it simply fall to the carpet.

“I still think you’re overdressed,” he said, grabbing hold of the waistband of my panties.

He pulled my knickers down until they joined the dressing gown and corset on the floor. Although naked, apart from my stockings, I was too aroused to feel self-conscious. I was alive and savoring every wicked second.

“Now, let’s see what this dirty little girl’s tits are like.”

Ben span me around. We were face-to-face.

“Not bad,” he said, stroking my right breast.

He took my nipple in between his forefinger and thumb, and gently massaged it.

“I’m going to enjoy playing with these later.”

He squeezed my nipple, hard. I groaned, lost in the delicious hinterland between pleasure and pain.

“But that’s later. Lie down.”

I shuffled over to the bed and lay on top of my duvet.

Ben climbed onto the bed and, placing a leg either side of my ribs, straddled me, sitting on my tummy. In his hands, he held his tie, and the belt from the dressing gown.

The tie was employed first. He folded it in half, making a loop at one end.

Roughly, he took hold of my right arm, laying my wrist on my tummy. He wrapped the doubled-up tie around my wrist, and threaded the end containing the two ends though the loop. He pulled, and the tie wrapped around my wrist tightly. He wound it around my wrist once more and then, forcefully, pulled my arm above my head. Towards the brass spindles of the bed-frame.

He inched himself up me, closer to the bed-frame. His groin, and his huge, hard dick, was an inch from my face. Second later, my wrist had been fastened to the bed-frame.

Slowly, Ben repeated the process with the dressing gown belt and my left hand.

As he tied me down, he ignored me. As if I was wasn’t worthy of his attention. And that only turned me on even more. I wanted to reach down and stroke my swollen mound. But I couldn’t – I was bound to the bed and utterly at his mercy.

This is what I’d wanted; to give up control. To let someone else take responsibility, to take charge.

And I loved it.

Once he’d finished, Ben pulled at the restraints, testing their effectiveness. Satisfied I was going nowhere, he swung a leg over me and stood up.

“Now, legs,” he said, as if he was talking to himself. “What can I use? Of course.”

He leant over and started rolling down my left stocking. Slowly, he lowered it down my thigh, calf and then over my foot. He then pulled the stocking off my right leg in the same tantalizing way. I could feel the moisture on my pussy, could smell it.

Harshly, he pulled my left leg to the corner of the bed. Using the stocking, he tied my ankle to the bed-frame. Just as meanly, he pulled my right ankle to the other corner and likewise bound it. I was spread-eagled, helpless. And I had never been this turned on in my life.

“You’re my plaything now,” Ben said, moving around the side of the bed. As he walked, he took off his jacket and hung it on the back of the chair by my dressing table.

“My toy,” he said, removing his trousers and laying them over his jacket.

“I own you.” He unbuttoned his shirt, took it off and neatly lay that on top of his suit.

“But I don’t like my playthings to make any noise,” he said, pulling down his trunks and freeing his massive erection. The sight of his large, thick cock almost made me come.

“Oh, almost forgot,” he said, turning back to his neat pile of clothes. Reaching inside his jacket pocket, he pulled out a small, shiny square packet – a condom.

He tore the packet open, and, leisurely, pulled the rubber sheath down his cock.

“Anyway,” he continued. “Noise.”

He bent over to take his socks off.

“It puts me off.”

When he stood up again, he was holding my lacy black panties. I was sure I could smell my scent on them from two feet away.

He lifted the panties up, examining them. And he said just one word.

“Moist.”

Ben straddled me again, but this he was much higher on my chest. Closer to my face.

I knew what was coming next. Instinctively, I closed my mouth.

“No, no, no,” Ben said, pinching my nose and holding my nostrils closed.

I held my breath. But, I was excited and my lungs felt under-powered. I gasped for air and Ben shoved the panties in my mouth. I could taste myself on them.

“Let me show what will happen if you try to spit them out.”

Smiling, he covered my mouth with his hand and pinched my nose.

I couldn’t breathe.

He moved his hands, allowing me to take in air.

But not for long – after a few seconds, he smothered the two orifices again.

Fuck, fuck fuck! I silently screamed. Don’t stop! Please; don’t stop!

But Ben did.

I was so close. Close to the greatest orgasm I’d ever had.

“Now, it’s playtime,” Ben said, his hands slowly moving down my body, stroking my bare flesh as he went.

Ben’s fingers continued downwards. First, they lingered on my tummy, then my waist, then my inner thighs. He was tormenting me when all I wanted to do was come.

Then I felt his fingers circling my clitoris. His forefinger lightly brushed the delicate hood covering my clit, teasing her.

Touch it, I wanted to shout. Play with me!

Ben dipped a finger into my slippery, moist hole. His finger wet, he spread the moisture over my clit. He pinched it between his forefinger and thumb, and began moving it in a small circle. With his other hand, he played with the lips of my pussy.

Suddenly, he inserted two fingers into the canal.

Slowly, he pulled them out, before thrusting them back in.

As he did this, the fingers on my clit began moving faster. I could sense myself speeding towards release.

The next time his fingers went back inside me, there were three of them, pummeling my g-spot. I gasped behind the gag, delirious. My pussy throbbed and my brain was going haywire.

He increased the force of each thrust, never breaking the intensity which he played with my hard clit. I tried to force my legs wider; I wanted him to go further inside me.

I wanted more of him.

But I was bound to the bed too tightly.

Without saying a word, quickly, he lay on top of me.

In a flash, he buried his dick inside me. I shuddered as his massive cock entered me. I was soaking but his size still took my breath away. I whimpered as he filled me.

He started to slide in and out of me.

His movements were slow at first. In and out, in and out.

But, in no time, he was pounding away inside of me. Fucking me with a brutality that sent my senses into overdrive. I wanted to feel this way forever.

My skin tingled. My body began to quiver. I was near. I could taste it.

So was Ben. His eyes were closed and he groaned.

And then, with one final thrust, together, our lust exploded.

Ben’s cock twitched inside of me. He moaned and, then, became immobile, spent.

I screamed behind the gag as my own orgasm pulsed, unleashing wave after wave of pleasure.

My back arched, and my body convulsed as my orgasm washed over me, one pulsation after another.

I juddered as everyone crashed over me.

After what liked seemed like an eternity, the waves began to subside. My body finally stilled.

I luxuriated in a feeling of beauteous contentment.

After he’d untied me, we held each other for hours.

It was growing late but neither of us wanted the evening to end. So, we lay there, watching each other, hugging each other. Inevitably, though, tiredness crept over us. Our eyelids began to fall shut.

But, just before he fell asleep, Ben smiled.

“What is it?” I asked, my voice sluggish.

“You do know,” Ben began, “that’s it’s your turn to dominate me next.”

A few hours ago, that thought would have unsettled me. But, now, after tonight, it thrilled me.

I reached under the covers and firmly grabbed hold of his flaccid cock.

“How about tomorrow night?”

Moments later, we were both asleep.

And, although I can’t say for certain, I’m fairly sure the smiles never left our sleeping faces all night as we both dreamt about tomorrow.

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