It's one of those rare, perfect days. The sun is out, warm but not oppressive. I'm "lizarding" this afternoon, sunning myself on the concrete. The heat reflects up off of the pool water, and I can feel my skin starting to cook. Being of close Irish descent I don't actually "tan." It's more of a roasting-thing. However, the warmth has made me uncharacteristically lazy, and my body doesn't seem to be willing to listen to the rational thoughts my brain is sending—something about blisters, freckles, and eventual wrinkles. "Well," I sigh to myself; "one has to take occasional risks."
I force my eyes open when I hear the rusty hinge on the gate protest opening. I can tell by your gait that the day didn't go the way you had planned. To most people, I'm sure that you looked the same as always, but I can see the tiniest of creases between your eyes. There is a tension in your shoulders; your suit, normally so beautifully draped around your body, hangs stiffly over your shoulders. "Rough day?" You nod almost imperceptibly. "I'm sorry, darling."
"Not your fault."
"I know, but I wish I could make it better for you. C'mere." I pat the soft mat next to mine on the concrete. "Lie back and close your eyes."
I sit above you, your head between my knees, I stroke your temples, cradling your head in my palms, using my thumbs to stroke your eyelids gently pressing to release the stress. Using gentle pressure on your forehead, I lower your head to rest on my bare inner thigh. My fingers stroke through your silken hair, and my nails gently scratch your scalp. I fan your dark hair over my leg, marveling at the contrast between the midnight darkness of your locks and your perfect tan and the delicate paleness of my skin.
I gently stroke your lips with my fingertip, moaning softly as you suck them between your lips. A sigh escaped my lips as your mouth surrounds my two fingers. I lean over you, bending down to brush your lips with mine, and my moistened fingers drift down to brush your taut nipple.
Your tongue searches for mine, and my lips part pressing roughly against yours. My tongue snakes out, tasting your mouth, pushing through your wet lips. I roughly tweak your nipple with my fingers, feeling it harden and extend under my fingers. I smile to myself and I feel, hear your sharp intake of breath. I grasp your hair with my other hand, my fingers buried in your scalp. I pull your head back, exposing your throat. Separating my mouth from yours, I nibble at your vulnerable throat. I can feel your pulse under my lips. Matching its rhythm, I begin to pull at your hardened nipple, rolling it between my fingers. You moan slightly, and your arms stretch out, up around my hips, coming to rest on the sun-warmed skin of my ass.
Your lips begin to move silently, as you struggle to form words through the haze I know is beginning to fill your brain. I also know how strung out you are after days like this. I know how much you hate being the calm one at the office, having to smooth things out for everyone else. I know how hard it is for you to be in charge all day, taking the flack, protecting your underlings from the stresses from above. I know what you want, what you need. But you won't get it until you're ready to ask for it.
I straighten my torso, and lift myself up, throwing one leg over your body and straddling your chest. My breath catches in my throat when I feel your breasts brush against my sensitive inner thighs. I release your hair and reach between my spread thighs with both hands, using my fingertips to tug both nipples, smiling as they lengthen under my pressure.
Your voice reaches my ears, almost a whimper, "Please, darling, please don't be easy. Please drive this day from me."
My tongue wets my lower lip, hearing your reluctant plea. I nod to you softly, knowingly. Then, I shake my head slowly and whisper, "Of course. But first..."
I rise up on my knees, pushing my shaven pussy against your mouth. I grind myself against your lips. I can feel your tongue reach deep into me; sucking, licking, desperate to taste my orgasm.
My voice is a low growl through clenched teeth, "Make me cum, quickly."
Your teeth scrape my skin, biting and nipping at my hardened clit. I begin to shake, and I buck my hips against you roughly, fucking your mouth with my dripping pussy. Your head moves with each thrust, matching my tempo. The bare skin of my sex smears juices over your lips. My back arches as my thighs clench around your head; spasms wrack my body. My hair thrashes against my bare back, and you reach up to pull my tresses arching my back further, forcing me harder through my orgasm. I moan deeply. As the last violent wave passes through me, I shake my head to clear it. My vision sharpens again, and I look down at your face between my legs. Your perfect mouth and chin are covered, glistening.
"Now," I say to you fondly, "you asked for something, didn't you?"
I scoot backwards down your body, watching your skin glisten as my juices wipe over your taut, tanned skin. I leave your body wet with my cum as my clit rubs and scrapes over your skin. When I reach your wonderful feet, I stand, looking down over you, and move quickly around you, stopping at your head.
Reaching down, I grasp your wrists together, quickly binding them with a rough length of nylon cord left over from some repairs we made to the pool furniture.
I've caught you by surprise, I know, and your eyes widen when I secure your arms to the post of the overhanging awning. We've played rough before, but I'm accustomed to you being the stronger one. However, desperate times call for desperate measures, as they say, and you looked fairly desperate when you walked through the gate this afternoon.
Your neck cranes backwards as you try to see what I have planned for you. I leave your arms stretched above your body and move back around to your legs, smiling a slightly wicked smile. I grasp your right ankle and wrap it in a long length cord, securing it also to a post of the patio covering. With another cord, I quickly fasten your left ankle to the metal ring sunk into the concrete of the pool. When we had the rings installed, it was to ensure that we had some way to fasten down the pool cover during the winter months. I wish I had thought of them sooner for this alternate purpose.
Fastened so, your legs are spread obscenely wide, almost to the point that I know would be uncomfortable were you not flexible from daily yoga stretching. As I step back, I admire your sex, exposed as it is to the air, exposed completely were I to invite the neighbors for a peek.
Your eyes are wide open, and I can tell that you're actually a bit frightened. Perhaps unsure of who this person in your home really is? "Hmmm," I think to myself, "interesting."
"Simone, what are you doing?" Your voice is almost imperceptible, and I cock my head to hear you better. Your breasts heave slightly, glistening with sweat and desire under the warmth of the sun. Stretched as you are, your nipples are pointed to the sky, hard little nubs betraying your desire in spite of your unsureness.
I stand above you, my feet planted on either side of your perfect chest. The heat of the sun-warmed concrete under my soles travels up my body as I slowly lower myself until I'm squatting above your chest. I place one finger over your lips and say softly, "I'm only doing what you asked, dear. I've often wondered what it would be like to be on the other side of this position. To be the one wielding the strength instead of the one receiving it."
I stand, moving back until I'm standing at your feet, between your splayed legs, gazing down at your spread slit. You're completely open to me, exposed and vulnerable. I reach for the table behind us and lifting a wide leather strap. It was meant to be a surprise for you, a new toy for you to wield. "No matter," I think. I can break it in just as easily as you would have.
Your body begins to tremble as I run the strap over my palm, feeling the supple leather smooth against my hand. Quickly, with a flick of my wrist, I bring it down on your inner thigh, hearing it crack softly against your skin. The wide red strip that appears so suddenly on your skin brings a smile to my lips. My other hand strokes my own inner thigh, remembering the delightful feel of similar welts you've raised there.
To silence your vain struggling against the bindings, I quickly bring the strap down over your other thigh, making a twin stripe on the soft flesh of your tender inner leg. My own body shivers, both in sympathy for your pain and in delight with the pleasure of controlling you.