He placed his hand over me as we turned to sleep after the usual, tender kind of sex he always gave me. His warmth pressed against my back, steady, comforting. But as our breaths evened out and the room fell quiet, I couldn't ignore the soft flutter building in my stomach.
A small, involuntary quiver. Not from guilt. Not from love either.
Anticipation.
Thinking about tomorrow. Wondering what he might do. What Lina might suggest. What I might allow.
Whatever it was… I knew I'd face it. Take it. Endure it.
No... not endure.
Want it.
I swallowed, my lips curling into a faint smile in the dark.
I… hope it's something fun.
I closed my eyes, half smiling, half nervous.
And when I opened them again… it was morning already.
I sat up with a messy hair, eyes half shut. I sat quietly for a moment, blankly staring ahead. The soft chirps of birds reached my ears, slipping into the silence of the room. I've always loved that sound. Even when I was a kid, I'd wake up to it and just lie still, listening. It made the world outside feel safe. It made me feel warm,calm and happy.
It wasn't loud or anything. Just gentle and peaceful. Like a soft greeting.
Good morning.
I let out a quiet breath and rubbed my arms, letting that feeling settle in. I finally pushed myself up, brushing the sleep off my face. "Time to get moving...", I muttered.
I had my eyes on the clock. Every tick felt loud and teasing. I kept glancing at it. Is it time yet? Only to find there was still a while left. I muttered under my breath, irritated, "Why the hell is time moving so slow today?"
But eventually, my glances were finally answered. As if time had finally grown tired of my curses and decided to pick itself up and move forward. The moment had arrived.
I stepped out quickly, the nervous flutter in my stomach instantly tightening. There was something different in the air—like even the wind could feel what was about to happen. I walked toward the gate, heart unsteady, breath a little off.
Lina wasn't there. I paused, looking around.
I waited a minute. Maybe two.
And then I frowned to myself.
Why… why am I standing here like this? Why do I have to wait for her? Am I really that weak that I can't take a few steps unless she's beside me? That thought made my fingers curl around the cold edge of the gate. I bit the inside of my cheek.
No.
I'm a grown woman.
I don't need anyone to hold my hand. I can handle whatever he throws at me… I have to.
"Alright." I told myself. "I can do this."
I gave myself a small nod, more to feel brave than anything else. The house stood in front of me. I could feel my heartbeat in my chest now, thumping hard and fast, as if my body already knew what this meant.
Even though it would just be him and me inside… Even though we'd be alone…
I couldn't stop the thrill that crept through me. That low, warm rush in my stomach. It wasn't fear. It wasn't even guilt.
It was something else.
A kind of breathless curiosity.
A nervous excitement I couldn't fully explain, only feel.
The awareness that I was doing this, knowingly… started warming me from inside.
It was a moment.
A chance.
To be alone again with him.
My heart pounded harder.
Should I really go in?
Of course, a soft, shameless voice whispered from somewhere inside me.
That one word shook the hesitant right off me.
I took a step. Then another. My legs felt heavier, but I didn't stop. The closer I got to the door, the louder everything inside me became.
I looked back, hoping to spot Lina — expecting her to be right behind me, walking with that usual spring in her step. But… nothing. No footsteps. No familiar presence. She wasn't there—the only person who could have stopped me. And now… there was nothing that could stop me. Because I had made up my mind.
I didn't want to stop.
I wanted to see what would happen.
What would he do today?
Would he… teach me something new?
Would I let him?
My hand reached for the door before I could even think twice. My breath caught in my throat. There was no turning back now.
And In the pit of my stomach, I already knew—I didn't want to turn back.
I knocked at the door, steadying my breath, calming my face. I couldn't let anything slip. I didn't want him to notice the state of my body or the mess my thoughts were in.
He opened the door a moment later. I tried to keep a normal smile as our eyes met, pretending everything was just as usual. His brows lifted slightly—maybe in surprise. His eyes flicked past me for a second, probably checking if Lina was somewhere behind. But there was noone. Just me. I didn't say anything. I just stood there, holding the smile. He probably didn't expect to see me standing here alone. To be honest, I did't expect as well.
He didn't say anything. He simply stepped aside, giving me the space to walk in.
I entered slowly, one step at a time, feeling the weight of each movement. My heart thudded painfully in my chest, and I kept my eyes ahead, refusing to glance back.
And then —click
The sound of the door closing. It was soft but loud enough to make me flinch.
I swallowed lightly, my legs still moving, steady but slow. The silence between us pressed in, and yet I kept walking. Each step leading deeper into something....
"Is Lina not going to come today?" he asked, his voice breaking the silence like a soft tap on glass.
I stopped where I was, not walking any further. I turned to look back at him, keeping my expression as neutral as I could manage.
"She didn't say anything about not coming," I said slowly, watching his face. "But... I think she might be a little late."
He stayed near the door, eyes fixed on me, as if measuring something in my words. A quiet tension building between us again. He took a step forward.
"Is that so?" His voice had changed, dipping into something teasing.
I felt my heartbeat pick up. I swallowed once, forcing out a quick, soft reply. "Y-yeah."
He wasn't looking to walk past me, but towards me. Not to head elsewhere. At me.
"Hmm," he murmured, voice low, curious. "I wonder what we should do... to kill some time."
I felt the heat crawl between my thighs, deep and aching. My body gave itself away.
He kept coming closer, each step slow, intentional, like he was toying with me.
I took a step back, almost without thinking. Then another. Light, nervous. My eyes didn't leave his.
"What do you say?" he asked, eyes glinting, his voice thick with something playful.
I froze inside, the heat in my core spreading, curling like smoke. I knew what he meant. Every part of me knew.
What do I say? My mind screamed out an answer. Let's fuc—
"I-I don't know," I replied instead, sheepishly, my voice barely steady.
My feet kept moving, backward, slow but constant. My eyes stayed locked with his.
Suddenly, my back touched the wall. The soft thud made my breath caught in my belly. There was no more space to move.
He looked at me with that smile. That damn demonic smile.
Like he was enjoying it. Watching me like this. Watching me struggle so uselessly. So helplessly.
There was nothing I could do, and he liked that. He liked seeing me in that pathetic state. My legs started to gave in, just slightly, but enough to make me press my knees together. My fingers curled tightly around the edge of my skirt, gripping it nervously.
I turned my face to the side, tilted just enough so I didn't have to meet his eyes. I couldn't.
He stood right in front of me now. So close. I could feel the heat from his body.
He didn't speak. Just looked at me, quietly.
And there I was, still trembling, staring off to the side. Trying to stay composed. Failing.
"You don't know?" he said, voice low, humiliating.
He placed his one hand on my chest. No hesitation. Just kept it there, like he'd done it a hundred times before.
My body twitched at the contact, a jolt rushing down my cunt. I sucked in a sharp breath, my nails digging hard into the wall behind me. I still didn't look at him. My head was tilted, eyes fixed stubbornly to the side.
But I could feel him. Every inch of his palm. The heat. The quiet pressure.
He started moving his index finger slowly, like he was writing something on my tit, maybe his name? He continued it with some teasing circles around my nipple. Not hurried. Not forceful. Just slow enough to drive me insane.
And then—he pressed. One finger pushing right into the center, on my nipple. Like he wanted to see just how deep he could go. "Hmmm, so delicious. You like this, don't you?" he whispered.
I gasped, my lips quivering, but nothing came out
He knew I wouldn't answer. He didn't need one.
His hand slid down again, gripping the edge of my top. And then, slowly, he began lifting it. Inch by inch. Exposing me. My breath stuck somewhere, pussy dripping hard at his bold advances. I didn't stop him. I couldn't.
Because… I wanted this. I had no excuse left.
He shoved the top inside my mouth. Telling me to hold them, while he shamelessly feels me up. And guess what I did?
I held it with my mouth, teeth digged in to make sure it doesn't fall, while he does whatever he wants to do.
His hand reached the bra, he gripped it tight and pushed it upward in one rough move. The strap bit into my shoulders. My breasts spilled out, bare and hard and shamefully horny.
He smiled as he looked at them. At me.
Like this was what he expected.
Like I was exactly what he thought I'd become.
I just stood there, shaking, exposed, and wanting more.
He started giving light slaps on both of them one, then second, then third.
Slap. Slap.
Not hard enough to hurt, but just enough to make me shake… to make my breath stutter… to make me moan. A weak whimper escaped from my closed mouth. It was getting hard to stand still as my knees started getting weak.
He continued slapping them—one after the other. Again. And again. Until I could feel the sting, my skin heating up, my tits starting to turn a light red. I bit my lip, body twitching with each smack.
My head leaned back, eyes drifting up to the ceiling, lips parted. I couldn't think anymore. I wasn't looking at him —just feeling.
My eyes glazed over, drowning in the mess of pleasure he was pulling out of me.
God… he really was ruining me. And I was letting him.
Then he leaned in. His face close. Too close. I could feel his breath hitting my bare nipple, warm and slow, like he was savoring the moment before he touched me again.
And then he kissed it. Just a small peck. Like he was leaving his mark on them. Stamping them with his lips.
God.
It was dirty. So, so dirty. Even though he was very gentle, it still felt so humiliating and degrading. The way he was treating them with love and hate. He was doing everything right, as if he knew my body like a back of his hand.
His lips opened slowly, and he pulled my nipple into his mouth. Wet. Hot. His tongue rolled around it, circling, teasing, flicking my nipple with his tongue, until I thought I'd lose my mind. Then he started pulling—sucking it in like he wanted milk out of it, like he was trying to drink something from me that wasn't there.
I let out a loud moan. "Ahhh… fuck…" It just slipped out of me. I couldn't hold it in anymore.
My top slipped down over his head, covering him for a second and I quickly and pathetically blurted out, "Sorry."
God… really?
He was sucking on my tits, playing with my body as he liked, and I apologized?
How embarassing is that?
Why??
Was I worried I interrupted his rhythm? That maybe I ruined his moment?
Maybe.
But that wasn't even the worst part.
The truth is, I said it because I didn't want him to stop.
I didn't want to ruin whatever twisted thing he was doing to me.
I should've at least pretended to resist.
But instead, I said sorry.
Worried that I ruined his momentum.
God, I really am slipping, aren't I?
His other hand was busy, pulling and pinching my other nipple, rough and hard, like he wanted to keep both of them occupied.
I kept my legs still from falling down. I held my top up with my other hand, not to stop him—never to stop him—but to make sure he had full access, to make sure nothing got in the way.
I was trembling, biting my lips, breathless, my whole body reacting on its own.
And he hadn't even fucked me yet.
He bit down—just a little. Just enough to send that sharp jolt through my chest. A mix of pain and pleasure that made my back arch instantly.
My hand flew to his head, fingers curling tight into his hair. Not to stop him. Not even close. I just needed to hold on to something, anything, because the feeling was too much. Too raw. Too good.
His mouth stayed there, warm and wet, his teeth gently grazing as his tongue flicked slow circles around the swollen bud, lapping at it like he wanted to taste everything I was feeling. Every pulse, every twitch, every shiver.
Then he paused, his breath hot and damp against my sensitive skin, and tilted his head just enough to meet my eyes. That smirk on his lips, that wicked glint in his eyes—it said everything.
"You lost both the rounds yesterday, didn't you?" he murmured.
His voice was slow, teasing, like a punishment. Like he was enjoying making me remember how pathetically I had given in. Like he wanted to make me say it. Own it. Feel it.
My nipple was still in his mouth, warm and wet, waiting—for an answer I couldn't give. My lips parted, breath shallow, but no words came out. Just soft, helpless gasps. He didn't wait.
He grabbed the other tit, pulled it harder, bringing it close to his mouth. And then—God—he sucked both at once, his hands pressing my tits together, his lips switching, dragging, devouring. I whimpered, fingers tangling harder into his hair, holding on like I'd fall apart if I let go.
"Aahnn... ahhhn…" I was moaning breathlessly. My voice was barely mine anymore, heavy with heat, with need. My body squirmed, cunt twitching, breath ragged.
"You know there was a punishment too," he muttered against my skin, the vibration running straight through me. He paused for few seconds, looking at my helpless condition "I hope you haven't forgotten that." His voice turned sharp, edged with irritation.
I blinked, trying to speak, to say anything, but I was too far gone—shaking under his mouth, his grip, his words.
"When I ask something, you better answer," he said, voice low now. Warning. Command.
And then he bit down—harder this time. On both nipples, at once.
A strangled cry broke from my throat. Hnnnngggggg. My back arched off the wall, my hands clutched his hair tighter, as that sweet burst of pain shot through me, dragged pleasure right behind it like a leash.
I couldn't think. Couldn't hide it. I was already turned into his plaything.
o-ok... ok... I-I'll... rep...ly… I breathed out, my voice weak, barely holding together. My chest was heaving, heart thudding. He lifted his head up and pressed his fingers against my jaw, tilting my face up toward him. His gaze was sharp, intense, making my insides twist with nervous heat.
"So," he said, his tone low and slow, "are you ready to be punished?"
Pun…ish…? The word sounded strange in my ears. I wasn't sure what he meant. But I could feel it, deep in my stomach, that whatever he had planned—it would overwhelm me. Twist me in ways I couldn't even name. And... I am going to like it.
I swallowed hard. "Y-yes…" I whispered, almost ashamed by how quickly the answer left my lips. "I.. I want to... be punished…"
A glint of satisfaction lit up his face. That smile. That cruel, pleased smile. Like I'd just said exactly what he was hoping to hear.
He turned and walked away, disappearing into one of the rooms, leaving me standing there, legs shaking and body throbbing with warmth. The second he was out of sight, my knees gave out. I slowly dropped to the floor, trembling, breathing hard, trying to pull myself together but failing miserably.
My nipples were all wet and sloppy. He had made a mess out of my tits. My chest felt warm, sensitive, like it remembered everything his mouth and hands had done. I hugged myself lightly, the cool air brushing against the wet skin he'd left behind. Every breath felt heavy.
And yet… I waited. Kneeling on the floor, heart racing, unsure what he would bring… but knowing whatever it was, I had already accepted it.
Sorry for the late update