Posted by Lilly | 15 Comments

Lilly’s Turn – Part 1: Wherein a Power Play is Made

I had been eying her up for weeks, this enigma. Reasonably confident exterior, with a shy and easily embarrassed girl peeking out sometimes. I had witnessed the duality enough to know I could fuck with her. Sarah. Thin, pretty in a different sort of way and very attractive, C-cup tits, long straight light brown hair. A little younger than me but not by much.

After more than a month of laying the groundwork and getting things to a flirtatious and covertly dirty stage, I taught her how to communicate via email without risk of our naughty words being read.

I confessed a few things to her, one of them being my relationship with R and what we did. Her response was positive and then I laid out one more bombshell – that he wanted me to find a submissive girl to play with in the same manner. What a delicious and dangerous twist it would be to do this with a girl in my office….

I asked her, outright, if she considered herself submissive. She answered that she didn’t really know, as she had no experience in it – but the erotic stories she’s read online gave her a taste and at least knew that she wasn’t dominant.

Obviously I had to tread carefully; I could deal with that. I sent her off this email:

“Hypothetically speaking – what if, right now, I told you to go to the restroom and remove your panties? Would you do it? And what if, when you exited your stall, you found me standing there waiting for you to hand them to me? Would you do that? Would it make you blush? And then… what if…..as you stood over the sink washing your hands, I slid my hand up your skirt to your bare ass and down the crack and slipped my fingers quickly into your sticky wet cunt? Would you fight me? Or would you like it?”

A hypothetical situation, a little bit of control by me and a little bit of dominance. To be honest the short paragraph made me instantly wet. But I had to ignore the throbbing. The moment I hit ‘send’ I got up and walked down my cube row, over to her aisle and then I stood there quietly as she read my words. So engrossed that she didn’t see me there right away. I watched her lips part and her face flush to pink. A good sign. As she looked up and noticed me, she blushed a furious red throughout her face and chest.

“Oh I can wait, don’t let me interrupt you, go ahead and finish off your email there” I said nonchalantly as if I were there to just ask her a silly work question. But the hard look on my face told her that she best not argue with me, she should indeed answer that email.

She typed away for a minute, casting quick sidelong glances at me as she did so. When she finished I kept up the ruse and asked her a silly work question. I walked back to my desk and went straight for the email.

“Would I do it? Yes.

Would I hand them over? I hesitantly say Yes.

Would I fight you? The shock of it would take me by surprise and the fact that someone could walk in at any second would cause me to fight it at first. Would I like it? Again, a hesitant ‘yes’. Even as you are standing over me right now trying to embarrass me, I know deep down I’d like it no matter how it appeared on the outside.”

Good.

Just the answers I wanted to hear.

{Thank you Muse Mina, you were a big help and a good bit of inspiration for this piece}

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Posted by Lilly | 10 Comments

Confessional: Breaking the Girl

It seems that my dominant side is never the most prevalent. But when it does come out to play….I feel ruthless. Bitch extraordinaire. I have not had any experience dominating a woman be it in person or virtually, but I’ve already discussed (here and with others) my desire to do so.

I also must point out that I’ve never been much of a fan of the humiliation aspect of D/s, either receiving or doling out. Something more sinister, however, has popped up inside of me lately and I am finding myself aroused by the strangest things. A few weeks ago, at a meeting at work for our new unit assignments, the group was asked to do the school-classroom bullshit of “stand up and tell us about yourself”. Let it be known that I hate this. I am not comfortable speaking in front of people, even in such a casual setting. So I felt for this girl, I really did. She appears to be younger than me; pretty in a cute and “I’m trying to look cool” way. Perhaps someone I might be friends with. From my vantage point behind her and to her right, I was able to glance at her occasionally. When she stood up to speak each time, I noticed that she blushed furiously. She did not stammer, she did not show any other outward signs of feeling awkward. But I thought that the blushing was very cute. I think, partly, because at first glance her body language, style, etc was more “I’m cooler than you and this is all so lame” – but oh, what do we have here….vulnerability. Shyness.

I have read erotica- male narrator, shy and blushing female subject – of the similar nature. The man is dominating, domineering, pushy and delighting in her awkwardness. Aware that beneath the fear and nervousness lies arousal. I did not want to be in the shoes of the female, no, I think I more wanted to be the aggressor.

In my past fantasies of dominating a woman, I was never alone. It was a threesome. Perhaps a shared toy between a dominant and I. Perhaps a shared toy between a submissive man and I. But always, he was involved. I might have had the reigns of control but he was active in it. The fantasy has changed, morphed or perhaps I just have another one. He doesn’t participate. Instead, he watches passively. An audience. Another element to heighten her embarrassment and shyness.

I’ll be ruthless, while the one who trained me watches with pride. I will show her precious size 6 little ass no fucking mercy. As she is bent in half in a standing-hogtied sort of way, her cunt is bared to me like a split peach. I can easily go from inflicting pain on her ass to her cunt.

But no….that only satisfies part of my desire. I wanna make her squirm. Blush. Cry. I want to break her.

I don’t want a slut who’s at ease with her sexuality. I don’t want a whore who’s been around this block a time or two. I want a girl who cringes when sex words roll off her tongue. I want to make her say cunt and clit and suck and nipple and fuck and I want her to blush while she says this stuff. Tease her with these words and the pain (the bittersweet raw pain) and the begging until she’s crying.

She enjoys it though. Beneath the blushing and the cringing and the crying and the whimpering and the pink-red skin from my slapping and flogging she is dripping wet and aroused beyond belief. And that’s why I’ll love it, that’s what will fuel me to dig deeper. Before I break her, before she’ll full-on beg to come all over my hand, I’ll torture her. I’ll have to. Leave her at the edge of her orgasm…..make her watch me get fucked (and loving it) from my Dom. Taunt her with my orgasm. It’s going to be hard for her to watch, her instinct will be to turn her head but I won’t let her.

I want to watch the boiling point of her arousal and humiliation come to a head and erupt. At my command, at my hand. I want to break her…..and laugh at her misery. An evil giggle, a demeaning chuckle.

I’ve got a few things/issues/grievances/hurts of late that I need to take out on some poor girl. I just need to find a suitable one. Now accepting applications….

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Posted by Lilly | 6 Comments

Work Violation

It was not enough that I obeyed, despite my workload.

It was not enough that for 4 hours I had that fat-ended wooden dildo wedged in my cunt and a vibrating bullet intermittently buzzing against my clit. At his command.

It was not enough that my orgasm count was up to four.  Four!  We had only reached that number once before.

It didn’t matter that I had work to do.

It didn’t matter that the restrooms are not private.

It didn’t matter that my freshly-post-orgasm cunt was tighter than hell.

Nope.

Not at all.

He instructed me to go right at that very minute, as I was still recovering with a flushed chest and accelerated heart rate. Go to the restroom and fuck myself with the dildo. Not a little bit, not just farther in and tiny outward pulls.

Nope.

Not at all.

Fully out, fully in. Each movement my eyes widened and I tried so hard to be silent as the fullness violated my tender cunt. Aware of the sloppy wet sounds it was making. Aware that the first time I pulled it fully out I felt all the liquid from my previous 4 orgasms leak down my ass. I held my breath and listened for the creak of the door. Listened for footsteps. Confident that I heard nothing, no one, I grasped the short handle and channeled his rough intentions; I did it the way he would. The first minute was difficult, every inward thrust was an intrusion. It was not an easy self-fuck; every stretching-out shove into my cunt was a bit painful. It took effort. It was a good pain though as the fat wooden bulb pushed against my G-spot. Then it was somewhat easier, my cunt was opening for this unforgivably large dildo, and every firm push to my G-spot made me gasp a little, made my eyelids flutter a little.

Such depravity. Locked in a corner stall with my jeans and panties around my ankles and legs spread wide in a slutty fashion, I followed orders. Soon I made my best effort to look normal on the outside and I pulled up my jeans and panties, making sure to replace the bullet to it’s correct spot – firmly nestled between my lips, pressing against my clit.

Two hours later…..

It still was not enough that I continued to obey, despite my workload.

It still was not enough that he ripped another orgasm from my spent body. Five – a new record.

It didn’t matter that the restroom would  be even busier given the time of day.

It didn’t matter that I was sore and tired.

Nope.

Not at all.

He demanded one last fuck, one last violating act of work-time debauchery. His intent was to leave me stretched out and sore as a reminder the rest of the night; a reminder of his power and ownership.  I gasped at the pain as I slowly pulled the dildo out and flushed in embarrassment at the wet suction-y noise that followed. I walked a thin line of being as silent as possible and as rough as possible while other women were going about their business around me. When it hurt less and was less of a violation to my body I stopped. Wiped it clean and put it in its velveteen bag. Wrapped the cord of the bullet vibe around itself and tucked both toys back in my little black zippered pouch. As I walked back down the hall to my desk, my shoes clicking on the tiles and an innocent black bag tucked under my arm, I smiled serenly at a passing coworker and bid her goodnight.

And she has no idea.

Not at all.

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Posted by Lilly | 7 Comments

Whore on the Floor

I discovered not too long ago that if I’m on my knees on the floor behind my desk, most people that walk by won’t even see me. Not unless they stand at my counter or come around behind my desk to get something. If they do notice me I can use the pretense of untangling the cords under my desk.

Being down there allows me to shove one or both hands down inside pants and panties to spread my cunt and gyrate the vibe against my clit in just that right way so that I go crashing over the edge of orgasm.

It also dirties up my knees and sometimes musses my hair.

Out of the sheer blue a switch somewhere is flicked and he orders me to the restroom to insert my toys.

I was so shocked that I spoke out of turn. “Do you have any idea how much work I have to do today??”

“I’m sorry…… did I ask how much work you have? And who the fuck said I was going to let you come you presumptuous whore? Now go do it.”

Off I went but with no warm-up I was not wet. Lube is not something I usually need and so it is not in my naughty pouch at work. And that large wooden dildo is just not going in in my current state. I sat there in the corner stall and thought for a minute. The dildo went into my mouth where I provided enough lubrication to ease it inside of me. Bullet in place next. When I got back to my desk I had to make a conscious effort to sit down carefully, gingerly, with that 1″ of hard wooden dildo sticking out of my cunt.

Five times this whore was on the floor for her Master.

Five.

Count ‘em:

One

10:41 am marks the first orgasm. Preceded by nothing special, in fact we were both too busy for much of an exchange. Two minutes after he ordered me to turn the bullet on high I begged to come. On my knees, my hands shoved down my open jeans. Fingers prying apart my lips to expose my clit as much as possible. My forehead resting against the edge of my desk I feel the rush of tingles and the calm before the storm and then my cunt pulses and my body jerks a little.

Two

11:10 am marks the second orgasm. Preceded by a whole bunch of filthy words and degrading virtual submission before he orders me to come. Name calling and, were he in front of me, there would be a dark deviant glint in his eyes. I try to do it in my chair but I need the cover of privacy a bit. Down I slid with one hand shoving the hard dildo more firmly to my g-spot and the other gripping the bullet to the sweet spot. My chin resting on the edge of my desk this time as I allowed my eyes to flutter closed for 2 seconds as the rush washed over me.

Three

11:58 am marks the third orgasm. Again preceded by nothing special. Just a build-up of sensation overload and the desire to kick things over the edge. Sometimes a gal can only handle that climb for so long. I begged for this one again, to come before lunch rather than shutting the vibrator off entirely. While we parted ways during lunch hour I scurried off to the restroom to snap a requested photo for him. The moment he comes back he decides that I have it in me to give him four orgasms today. Vibrator back on.

Four

1:44 pm marks the fourth orgasm. Preceded by the hottest most erotic scenario anyone has ever painted for me before. While I crave a firm hand around my throat in the D/s dynamic, I’d never considered breath-play before. It is now in the list of “must do” with him. His words and commands pushed me over the edge this time but I still felt the need to continue tradition and be on my knees for him. Where I belonged.

Five

2:50 pm marks the fifth and final orgasm. Preceded by another breathplay fantasy which was preceded by a trip to the restroom to fuck myself hard with the dildo. I knew I needed his hands on my throat when I see him in reality, but this pushes that for me. This last fantasy and orgasm had my heart racing and I swear I nearly saw stars from the extremity of it all. Soon after he sent me off to the restroom to remove everything, but first I was to fuck myself with that dildo again. You’ll read about that side of it soon.

 

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Posted by Lilly | 8 Comments

Oxygen

As he leaves the room to clean up, he hands me a dildo and a vibrator with instructions to not stop but yet not to come without permission. I see him in my periphery here and there, he keeps a casual eye on me but won’t say anything. I am already halfway there and it doesn’t take me long to get to the point where I have to start backing off with the vibrator, or I will come.

I know he wants me to come and I know he’ll make me beg for it. But this time he is not egging me on with filthy words. As I move the vibrator a fraction of an inch away from my clit I call out softly to him for I cannot see him.

Please, Sir…..I’m getting close

No reply. I don’t know where he is.

Closer….please…

I am whimpering pathetically, and suddenly I see him. He is watching me with purpose, still he says nothing. As a moan and short sob escapes my lips he comes closer, his eyes focused intently on mine.

My eyes glaze over; my eyelids flutter in attempt to stay open.

I can’t…..please…please, Sir

He brings his hand to me, to my face. Slowly, methodically, sensually he traces my lips with the faintest touch of his fingertips. Still staring me down without a word. It is killing me. His gaze travels from my face to my body to my cunt and I feel the heat and shame of being under perceived scrutiny.

I am flushed and shaking now and I am on the verge of disobeying. He is at my side so close that I feel the heat from his body. His hand goes behind my head to the other side and his fingers graze my neck; right on my sensitive spot. Our foreheads touching now, his nose to my temple, he finally sets me free:

COME.

And I’m gone. My breathing is quick and heavy and I moan and I’m cresting the hill with the tingles; the second I go silent and he sees my eyelids spasm and flutter -

His hand clamps over my mouth.

Firmly.

It is done in such a way that I cannot breath and I squeal in fear but the lack of oxygen is intensifying my orgasm as it crashes and my cunt contracts and my lungs burn and I arch and twist and ride it out. As soon as I begin to truly panic he removes his hand and the air rushes back to me. With a “good girl” he is gone from my line of sight and I am left to recover on my own, gasping as my brain cries for more oxygen.

The erotic intensity is shocking to me.

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