Erotica: Fulfillment - by the writer

A loyal reader, who I call the writer, wrote this very very hot story for me. He somehow managed to write the Femdom as very Lilyana-like, so much so that when I read this I think, "That is EXACTLY what I'd have said/done!" Although I have not yet cucked a sub, I imagine a scenario very much like this one. With his permission, I'm sharing thie super hot erotica with you all.

My hands tremble as they unbutton your blouse.

It would be the first time I would ever see you naked, and I had rented the suite for the occasion. There were candles for the bedroom. The sitting room filled with flowers. There was scented oil for the bath.

You arrived with your overnight bag looking like you had come from an office. The blouse buttoned so high that by the way I was halfway done – forcing myself to take my time, to savor every moment – I was merely viewing what I’d seen many times before.

It was still breath-taking. Just the sight of the soft, smooth skin of your upper breasts. Cleavage that had often been on view.

I paused, moved my lips towards you.

“May I?” I asked.

“Not yet,” you answered.

I pulled back and continued my task. When you blouse was fully open, I took it and folded it neatly on the sitting room’s couch.

Each piece of clothing I removed set my heart pounding. I looked at you with such longing and desire. You smiled at me with tender cruelty.

When I was finally down to your bra and panties, I poured you a glass of wine and went to start your bath. Good hotels have good tubs, and I was careful to make sure the water would be warm, not scalding.

I returned. You turned your back to me. I steadied myself as I undid the clasp of your bra.

When I came back from setting it neatly on top of the rest of your clothing, you turned towards me. The fullness of your breasts took my breath way. You lifted them, knowing they were all I desired.

“Now,” you whispered.

I lowered my lips, kissed the soft skin. Licked just above your nipples. You shifted slightly, and your nipple was in my mouth. I suckled.

And then, when I knew the bath was nearly ready, I stepped back. Slid your panties off slowly. Folded them and presented you with your robe.

I held your hand as you stepped into the tub. Stood back while you luxuriated in the oiled and gelled water, the scent barely present, sensuous without overwhelming. You closed your eyes and I knelt, droplets of condensation sticking to my skin.

When you were ready, you opened your eyes. I tested the water, added just a bit more to keep the temperature constant.

I lathered up the softest washcloth I could find and began to wash your back. My motions were gently, slow, and circular. I took my time.

I kissed the back I had cleaned.

Your arms and legs were next. When it came to your feet, I put the washcloth away and began to give you a foot massage. I could feel the last bit of tension drain from your body.

I added a bit more hot water, then rose to your face. One kiss to the forehead and then I began cleaning with caresses, following your bones.

When I was done, I nodded towards your breasts.

“May I?” I asked.

“Only with the cloth,” you answered.

Not one part of my finger touched the skin. I was light, professional.

My cock was rock hard.

I knew when it came to your pussy that this was not the time for climax.

You shifted and presented me with your ass.

“Make it as clean as the rest of me,” you said.

I turned on the Jacuzzi and knelt silently as it soothed your body.

When you were ready, I stood with open towel, drying you, not allowing you to do a thing except indicate where you wanted to be dried next.

I wrapped you in your robe and led you to the make-up mirror. There was a stool, of course. Hotels like this always had stools for women.

I opened the overnight bag. What was inside was so much sexier than what I had removed. The make-up kit was on top.

I handed you compacts, brushes, containers.

When you were satisfied, I slid the lace-thin panties up your legs, careful – oh so careful – not to touch. Lifted the negligee over you head and let it fall over your body.

“There’s more,” you said.

I went to the overnight case and took out a second pair of panties.

“For you,” you said.
I slipped the panties on. It took three tries before I could keep my cock from falling out.

You smiled sweetly now and took my hand. You led me to the bedroom.

“I’d kiss you,” you said, “but my make-up.”

You nodded to a cushioned wooden arm-chair. It was perfect. I’d made sure of that before I’d booked the room.

The panties were so skimpy that the chair cushion scratched my skin. I shifted, trying to find a comfortable position. I knew this was important.

You bound my wrists and arms to the armrest, my ankles to the chair’s front feet.

Then you gagged my mouth.

You picked up your phone and dialed.

“The door’s unlocked,” you said, giving the number of the room.

Your hand went through my hair, tousling it gently, warmly, fondly.

“I know you can handle this,” you said. “No turning back now.”

With my eyes, all I had, I told you it was so.

The candles’ light played upon your body as we waited, soft and caressing but strong enough so I could see every curve as well as the openly lustful desire on your face.

I turned my head as I heard the door open and shut.

“In here,” you said.

Your head did not even glance in his direction. You were watching me, gauging my reaction, taking pleasure from the fear and excitement in my eyes.

He stepped into the room and came up behind you. There was no hesitation on his part. No asking for permission.

He said your name and you turned your head back towards him.

As you kissed, he pressed himself behind you. His left hand slipped down your front, beneath the fabric, over your breasts.

With that you stiffened – a spring of lust coiled for release. Your kiss became a fury, deeper, more insistent, urging him on.

His right hand caressed your hip swiftly, then slid down your leg to where your negligee ended. In one movement, it slipped underneath the fabric, which hid your skin as he reached towards the place you both wanted him to go.

I could tell from your face that you were already wet.

Tears stung my eyes as you came quickly. I could only hope that my preparation had been your foreplay. As your body shook, he looked me in the eye for the first time. He had claimed – not you, exactly. He had claimed his right. He didn’t need words to tell me: this is my right. To take the woman you serve. To take her without asking, as you never can.

Then, when your orgasm had subsided, you turned. Turned without his asking. As if you, too, wanted to make sure I understood how you melted to this man.

Your hands slid down his chest as you went to your knees – not waiting to undress him, simply sinking, undoing his fly. You grabbed his cock – engorged and growing larger – and did not hesitate to bring it to your lips, flicking your tongue lightly over the tip.

It nearly broke my heart to watch the skill and devotion you exhibited in the act.

Knowing that I would no more experience your tongue sliding down my shaft than I would ever feel the inside of your pussy was utter torment. Having you share this with me was my delight.

You did not let him cum. Instead, when he was hard and dripping, you withdrew.

While he undressed, you walked over to me, removed my gag, and kissed me hard on the lips, making sure I could taste his precum.

As you re-fastened the gag, you whispered in my ear, “Good thing he’s not bi or that would have been your job.”

When you slid upon the bed, you careful to position yourself so that I could see him enter you. The two of you were slow and certain, as if you had agreed to make sure my cuckolding would not be swift.

He began to fuck you hard but let you cum before he did. I could see him holding back, see him ride your climax through.

Then you rose to him, whispered in his ear.

He looked at me and laughed.

“You’ve really never fucked her?” he asked as he slid outside you.

I shook my head; you reached for the nightstand.

“And he never will,” you said. “This is as close as he gets.”

There was a bottle of lube in your hand. Even the gag could not completely muffle the sound that came out of me as I realized what was next.

He lubed and fingered you and slipped his cock into your ass.

“Tell him,” you said as he slowly fucked your ass, “tell him how good it feels to have my tight hole wrapped around your cock.”

“Can you imagine? Can you?” he taunted.

I nodded my head, my tears blurring my vision.

As they cleared, I could see you were fully relaxed. He thrust harder, shuddered, and was still.

He withdrew, his cock glistening. You didn’t make a move.

“Untie him,” you said.

He nodded. He walked over to my chair and undid the rope.

I watched as his cum slowly began to seep out of you.

When he was finished, he looked at you.

“You may not want to see this,” you said.

He nodded and left the room, closing the door behind him.

“Take off your gag,” you said. “You know what to do.”

I climbed up behind you, lapping the cum off your butt cheeks.

I knew there was more. I licked at your opening.

I had never thrust my tongue inside the place where I knew it had to go. I knew you were clean. Knew from the sight of his shaft. Knew because I had cleaned you. Realized that you had this planned before I had bathed you.

I still had to fight my instincts. I took a deep breath and my tongue plunged in. I wanted the taste and smell of your pussy, but this was where you wanted me to be.

When I was finished, you held me.

“You can’t fuck me and you can’t cum,” you said as you stroked me gently. “Is there anything else you desire?”

I pulled myself close to you.

“Please,” I sobbed, “spend the night.”

You kissed me forehead.

“Of course,” you said.

You rose from the bed and beckoned me to the living room.

“I have a present for you.”

I was surprised to see he was still here, waiting.

You paid him no mind. Instead, you went to your bag and from it withdraw a set of plug-in headphones that you handed to me.

“Noise-canceling,” you said. “I hope they’re comfortable enough so you can sleep.”

It was then I saw the bedding on the couch. You were spending the night – just not with me.

I placed the plugs in my ears and turned the headphones on.

You took your lover’s hand and disappeared into the bedroom, shutting the door.

I knew you needed a man like the one you were doubtless about to fuck again, the man whose name I did not know. Knew that you needed someone who would never ask permission, who would take you with pure masculine right.

I knew that you would never be satisfied without having the kind of sex I had just witnessed, any more than you could ever be satisfied without the occasional woman in your life.

But I also knew that you needed me, a sub who trusted you completely, whom you could scare, and humiliate, and hurt if you chose.

You needed all of us.

It had taken all my strength to endure the evening. To give myself so completely.

I was so, so proud that you had chosen me. That you had trusted me to play my part, because I knew that tonight was as special to you as it was to me. That having both of us at once – the man who would claim his right and the one who would suffer – was greater for you than having either of us alone.

I looked to the closed door. I could neither see nor hear a thing. But I knew you were delighted.

I, too, was fulfilled.