I grip them by the hair and pull up. My hard clit falls out of their mouth as they rise to their feet. A thin stream of saliva drips down their chin. I stand with them, pushing my chair away with my heel.
They look me in the eyes, tears glistening in the flickering candlelight.
I tighten my grip on their hair. It isn’t as if I was not enjoying myself. I was getting close to coming in their mouth, but that wasn’t what I wanted. I need to take over, to be more in charge than I felt with them kneeling between my thighs with my skirt pushed up to my hips and my clit between their lips.
I need to show them how much I want them. I need them to feel like they are mine wholly and completely. My right hand pushes against their shoulder, twisting them around to their right. They fall forward with the force of it, across the table. Over the book I had put down when they knelt between my legs.
I reach down and grab the fabric of their dress, pushing it out of the way. My finger hooks into their underwear and I push it aside, exposing their wet cunt. My finger brushes their labia, spilling some wetness.
“You are such a slut.”
“Eating me out really turned you on, didn’t it?”
They hesitate for a moment. I wonder if they are going to try to be coy, to be bratty. “Yes, mistress.” They aren’t. They sound quiet, subdued.
“That’s my fuckdoll.”
I step into them, my feet positioned between theirs, my knees spreading their thighs just a little more. I hold their head down against the table. My right hand guides my clit into them and I thrust.
There’s no resistance, just warmth and wetness and the scent of my needy, desperate fuckdoll.
I pull back and extract my hand from between us before I thrust into them again. My hand is wet with their sex. I bring it forward to their mouth.
They reach out with their tongue, opening their mouth as if to beg for my fingers.
I clasp my hand over their mouth filling their sensations with their own scent, their taste as I start to thrust harder into them. I’m pounding into them over and over, building up to a delicious orgasm as I use them.
I tighten my grip on their hair. “That’s right, slut. You need this, don’t you?” I don’t wait for an answer. “You need me to take what I want. To take what’s mine.”
They grunt once.
I fuck into them harder.
Their feet slide out behind me. Their weight is entirely on the table as it slides with each thrust across the room.
I step forward a half step and grab on tighter with both hands. “You can’t get away from me like that.”
They moan into my hand. Their hands grab onto the table as their toes reach for the ground again. They aren’t trying to get away, not really. They are trying to find a way to push back into me.
I thrust hard and fast into them, forgetting my own pleasure, forgetting theirs.
Their orgasm is almost unnoticed as I keep fucking them. I can feel their cunt spasming around me. I can hear their gasping breaths. I can feel their thighs clench around mine. It doesn’t matter.
The only thing that matters is taking them, taking control.
I feel my own orgasmlikely my first of manythreatening to crest. It’s building deep inside me, about to burn through my clit, my eyes. I thrust harder.
“You’re mine, baby.” It’s almost a whisper. The words don’t matter anymore. They can’t respond anyway.