Page 44 of A Gold Medal in Love
Still holding her neck and pressing her into the bed, I lean back and check in. “How are we doing now?” I gently inquire, following my question with some sweet pecks on her cheeks and forehead.
Imani sighs and nods her head, finally opening her eyes to showcase that desire has replaced the panic. “Green, Sir.”
On a better track now, I massage her neck until I begin to cut off her airflow. “I need you to hear me. You’re a good girl, Cupcake. But sometimes good girls do naughty things. Do you understand the delineation between those two statements?”
“Yes, Sir. More slaps now, please,” Imani requests with wide eyes, and then she winces. “I mean. Shit. If my Sir wants.”
“I do want, Cupcake. But yes, let’s leave the scene direction to the Dominant, shall we?” I scold her, teasingly.
My words earn me a laugh, followed by a smile.
Good, she’s open again after that brief near-spiral. I do a large squeeze of her neck quickly, making her gasp in fright, before I stand up to my full height and administer two quick and hard slaps against the same tit.
This time, she shrieks, but the ending note quickly lowers into a pleasured octave, and I smirk, so I give the other breast the same treatment.
“Sirsirsir,” Imani chants breathlessly, and I break out into a grin.
“Now, back to your punishment. Are we going to lie to our Sir?” I demand of her, giving her four smacks in succession but alternating sides of her chest.
“But! Please!” She wails, causing me to laugh sadistically.
“But, please, what?” I ask with levity, hitting her even harder. If she can take it, I’m determined to hit her hard enough that her dark skin mottles for me tomorrow.
“No! Stop!” Imani cries, not only in words but in actuality, as tears begin pouring down her face.
Leaning down, I again trap her underneath my body. “Neither no nor stop is your safeword, Cupcake,” I growl, licking a long line from her chin up her cheek to follow the tear track. I can feel how feral I’ve become at the sight of the mascara that runs down her face. I’ve wanted this ever since I first saw her cry. That time, she was crying because someone was an asshole to her. This time, she’s cryingfor me.
“No, I mean it. Please, Sir, please,” Imani sniffles, crying in earnest.
I grab her pussy roughly, pushing the gusset of her leotard to the side and feeling through her tights to feel how wet she is. “That is so strange, Cupcake, because it feels like you want more of me, to include my cock.”
“I won’t lie, I won’t lie!” She yells through her tears.
“Oh, I’m so glad you’ve gotten the point, but it’s too late for that. I’m gonna fuck you in this skimpy little leotard,” I purr, my voice gone impossibly low.
“Please?” Imani whimpers out, breaking the scene for a moment.
It doesn’t feelbroken, though. The moment tastes so sweet—a taste of her vulnerability while she is entirely at my mercy and trusting me with her body. There can only be one response, and that’s to meet her softness with my own. “I promise, Cupcake,” I affirm before nuzzling my face into her neck for a moment. It’s a pause to take in her pulse and scent, the gift she’s been giving me since the first day I walked into this room. Then I pull back, lickup the other side of her face, and grin down at her. “Your tears taste delicious. Feel free to cry more.”
The response I receive is a moan as she wiggles her ass as much as she can while she’s restrained.
“Are you attached to these tights?” I question her, pausing in my movements before I rip into them.
“Since when do you care? You just ripped my top!” Imani yells after her invited brattiness.
“Good point. Shh, my silly little submissive.” I rip said tights to reveal her glistening center, a glaring fuchsia surrounded by her beautiful sienna skin.
Holding her leotard to the side, I dip my fingers into her cream to rub against her clit. Her moans spur me on, but I’m on a different mission here. Before I leave her to return to the toy bag, I slap her there and make her scream in pleasure.
From the bag, I retrieve a vibrating double-sided dildo, one side of which I deftly insert inside my own soaked pussy after taking off my sweats and briefs. When I come back to Imani and see her trembling, I laugh loudly.
“So eager to get my cock inside of you, Cupcake?” I tease, pushing a finger inside of her.
“I want you to fill me up, Sir,” she begs, the spreader bars clanking from her squirmy movement.
“Mm. Sounds like a fantastic idea,” I croon, before pulling her leotard to the side, pushing the dildo into her cunt, and shoving the fingers covered with her juices into her mouth.
Imani’s body jolts from the dual intrusion, and I bemoan the way I can’t feel her clench around my body. I know her pussy must be fluttering so beautifully around the silicone of my dick. Instead, I focus my attention on feeling her tongue on my fingers as it laps up her own taste. Meanwhile, I test how open she is for me, circling my hips to bring her pleasure and obtain her relaxation.