Tired of Being the Nice Guy

Caution: This BDSM Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa, Fa/Fa, Romantic, DomSub, MaleDom, Spanking, Light Bond, Humiliation, Oral Sex, Anal Sex, Water Sports,

Desc: BDSM Sex Story: Prologue - After being a nice guy my whole life, I finally decided to be the one in charge, the one taken care of, the one whose every need gets met. When I break up with my girlfriend to fulfill my desires, things don't go as planned - they go better. Golden Clitoride Winner, 2004, Best BDSM Story

Thursday - Day -1

You could call me a nice guy. I haven't had too many girl friends, but upon reflection I realized that they were all what I would consider "high maintenance." Not that I was this absolute doormat, treated like shit by my girlfriends, not at all. The girls that I had gone out with were nice enough to me and treated me reasonable well. They were nice looking, though certainly not model material. We had nice times. But it was clear to me that in each of my relationships, the woman was the focus.

When they wanted to go someplace, we did. I took them around, got them nice things, and did things for them. With sex, we did what they wanted when they wanted it. If they didn't want anything, I had to be content with satisfying myself or with nothing. Again, they were not cruel, and if anything, it was my fault. I was a pushover; I truly cared about them, and put up with pretty much anything.

My current girlfriend is Becky. We have been together a couple of years. She's about 5' 5," brown hair and eyes, a nice chest, a few pounds overweight, but not outrageous. By the way, I'm just over 6 feet, brown hair and eyes as well. I'm no Greek god, but I'm in reasonably good shape and people have told me that I look pretty good.

Our relationship was going like all of them had. She was in a bad mood frequently, angry at many things around her, and as a result, she was often cranky and short tempered around me, even though she admitted I was not to blame for the way that she felt. While I wouldn't have minded sex on a daily basis, she was frequently not interested, either because she was in a bad mood, or she hadn't showered that evening and doesn't feel clean enough, or she was too tired, or she was just not interested. Even though her body is pretty nice, she has always felt that she was getting too fat, and as a result, she wouldn't wear revealing clothes. On the other hand, she never felt like working out either.

So that is what I thought of my life and relationship. I never realized this myself, but one day I came to the realization that I was tired of being the nice guy. I had these relationships where I catered to high maintenance woman, but I had never been catered too. I had always put everyone else first, but I had never been put first. And when I look around at the hot women that were low maintenance (I was definitely NOT interested in a really hot, high maintenance woman) I realized that the people that they were in relationships with were assholes. These women were with people who treated them badly, and while they bitched and moaned about it, they seemed to get off on it.

It got me wondering. While I didn't think I could treat a woman with the complete disdain of the assholes around me, I thought it was time to stop being so nice and to find someone who was going to take care of my needs, do what I wanted, and be at my beck and call. I wasn't sure if I could find someone like that, but I felt I owed myself a chance to try.

Of course, that meant that I had to dump Becky. Being the nice guy that I was, I had never dumped anyone before; it was always me being dumped. While I have some experience being dumped, it would be a test of my new selfishness to dump Becky.

I had just recently gotten home on a Thursday evening, and Becky was moaning about something again. I felt bad for her, and how the things in her life annoyed her, but it helped me realize that I did not want to be part of it, so I said, "Becky, we have to talk."

"What do we have to talk about?" she asked.

"I don't want to live with you anymore." I answered. I could not believe that I just came out and said it, but there it was.

She looked stunned. "What do you mean? What's wrong? I thought things were going so well!"

"Becky," I said, "when we met, and while we have been living together, I was a particular person. You liked me, and you thought everything was good. The problem is that I didn't like me. I don't like who I am, and I don't want to be who I was. I really do like you; I really love you. But now I want to be someone else, and while you are great, I need to be with a different kind of person."

Becky had started crying. I could feel my compassion welling up, and I almost felt like comforting her and saying, "Sorry, it's my fault, we can go back to the way we were." But I didn't do that. I needed to change.

"I don't understand. What kind of person do you need? How can I do things differently? What can I do to keep you?" she asked.

"Becky, I would love to stay with you, but I really feel that what you are and what I am looking for are two completely different things. I don't think you'd want to be the person that I need," I told her.

"But I would do anything for you," she responded.

"No, you wouldn't," I said. "You'd say you would do anything, but when push came to shove, you wouldn't."

"How can you say that?" she asked. "Why won't you give me a chance? What do you want?"

"Becky," I explained, "what I want is someone who will listen to me. I want someone who will do what I want. If I want to go out, they will. If I want them to dress sexy, they will. If I wake up horny in the middle of the night and want a blowjob, they won't complain they are too tired. If I walk in and get turned on by them, they won't complain that they haven't washed when I want to eat them out. I want someone who will focus on me, my wants, my needs. I want someone who will do everything I want, simply because I want it. And finally, I want someone who is happy to be with me and happy to be themselves.

"I don't think that you are those things. Sure, you'll go out with me, if you are up to it. And you'll dress nice, if you don't think its too revealing. And you'll happily give me a blowjob and swallow as much come as I can produce, if you are in the mood. But how many times have you said no to me? How many times have I not even asked because I knew you would say no? And are you really happy with yourself, because from the amount of time that you spend complaining about things, it sure doesn't seem that way.

"I'm sorry Becky, but I need something different in my life now. I truly love you, and I think you are a great person, but the person you are is not the right person for me, right now. I'm going to stay at a friend's house for a couple of days till I can sort out a place to live. I'm sorry, Becky." With that, I left here there, crying on the couch. It made me feel like an asshole, and it was tremendously hard not to go back to her, but in some respects I felt good that I was able to do this.

I went to my buddy Jack's house, and crashed there for the night. I was at work the next day when my cell phone rang. I could see if was Becky, and I almost didn't answer, but I thought that shying away from a confrontation would be falling into my old patterns, so I answered the phone.

"Hi Becky," I said.

"Hi," she said. She sounded fairly calm.

"Listen," she continued, "I think I understand what you are doing, but I need to talk to you a little more. Will you have dinner with me one last time? I have some things I need to tell you. I promise I won't make a scene."

I wasn't sure it was a great idea, but she seemed in control of herself, and we had been together for two years before I just sprung this on her, so I felt I owed it to her. Worse came to worse, I could just walk out.

"OK," I said, "meet me at Alfredo's at 9:00." I knew she didn't like Alfredo's very much, and even though it was one of my favorites we never went, but in my new spirit of selfishness, I didn't care.

"OK," she said, "see you there." I was a little surprised that she didn't even try to get me to change the location.

At 9:00 I walked into Alfredo's. It's a fairly nice establishment, so I had dressed up a little. I saw her at the bar, and I got another surprise. She was in a fairly short black dress that was pretty low cut on top, no stockings and sandals. I don't remember her having that dress, and she did not normally dress so revealing. "Great," I thought to myself, "she's trying to tempt me to get back together with her."

"Hi," she said quietly, kissing my cheek as I approached her. "Thank you very much for agreeing to meet with me. Would you like to go in?"

"Sure," I said.

When we approached the maitre d', she asked for a booth. The booths were in the back, and fairly private. After we were seated and our drink orders were taken, we looked over the menu. When the waiter came for our food orders, I ordered an asparagus soup followed by a rib-eye steak. When he asked Becky for her order, she said, "The gentleman can order for me." I looked up at her in surprise, not sure what she was up to. I knew steak was not Becky's favorite, but I told the waiter to bring her the same thing I had ordered.

After the waiter left, I asked "OK, Becky, what's the deal? Why did you want to meet me?" She looked at the table for a long moment, seemingly gathering up the courage to tell me what she had to say.

"It's like this. I thought about what you said. I heard what you were looking for, and the person that you do not what to be. I thought all last night about our relationship and about me and about you. And I realized that you were right about how things were. And I can see why you think that I am not the person that you want to be with, given the person you want to be." She took a sip of water and I waited for her to continue.

She looked up at me, intently. "But I can be that person, I know I can. Please give me a chance. I know I can make you happy."

I sighed. I was afraid of something like this. She was going to try and have me take her back, maybe be more accommodating for a little bit, then things would go back to the way they were.

"Becky," I started, "it's not who you are. It's not who you want to be. You can't change into what you don't want to be."

She looked up at me, her eyes a little moist, but very determined. "How do you know? You weren't who you wanted to be. Maybe I wasn't who I wanted to be. You said that I was not happy with myself, and you were right, I'm not. Maybe I can be happier with who you want me to be. Please let me try. I'll make you a deal - stay with me for one month. If after that month things don't work out, I'll leave and won't bother you again. Please," she pleaded.

I sighed once again. Just then our soups came. I started eating mine, and I saw she was just playing with hers. That exasperated me. "You had me order for you, eat what I got you," I told her.

"Yes, sir," she said, and started eating.

While I was eating my soup I looked at her. It was true that I loved her. And the raw material I wanted was certainly there. But I just wasn't convinced she could do it. Then I thought, let me test her a little. Worst comes to worst, I leave her at the end of the night.

Before the waiter came to clear off our soup plates I asked Becky "Where did you get the dress?"

She responded, "I wanted to look good for you, so I went out and bought it."

"And what are you wearing under the dress?" I asked.

"A black bra and black panties," she replied.

"OK," I said, "take off the panties and put them on the table."

She looked up at me in surprise. She hesitated a moment, then reached over for her purse, presumably to go to the ladies room. "No," I said, "right here."

With resolve, she put her purse down and reached under her skirt and shimmied out of her panties. She wadded them up in a little ball and reached to hand them to me, but I said "Put them on the table near your soup bowl."

She did, and I finished up my soup and sat back, looking at her without saying anything. She looked at me, almost defiantly, as if saying, "See, I can do what you want." When the busboy came by to collect our soup bowls, he paused when he saw the panties. I said, "Clear those away as well. We don't need them anymore." He put them on his tray and walked back to the kitchen.

"You realize he's probably going to keep them, show him to his friends in the back, don't you?" hissed Becky, her face all red.

"I assume so," I replied. "Will they be wet? Will they smell good?" I asked. She dropped her eyes to the table and nodded her head jerkily.

The waiter came and put our steaks in front of us. He asked if we needed anything else, spending a little bit too long looking at Becky's lap. "No, thank you, we're fine," I said, digging into my steak. Becky did the same.

I was thinking hard. I was surprised that Becky had done what I asked, but I was still concerned that this was a one night, desperate, get-the-boyfriend back move, and she would revert back to the old Becky the next day. But she had offered me a thirty-day trial period, and I thought I don't have anyplace else to live, and really, what do I have to lose? Becky was damn good in bed when she let go, and I suspected that at least tonight she'd be letting go, so I decided to go for it.

"So, Becky, do you really think you could change to please me as I want to be pleased?"

"Oh, yes!" she responded excitedly.

"Oh, yes sir!" I corrected. "One of the things that I want is more respect."

"Yes, sir!" she responded.

I leaned back and looked at her. This could be interesting. "If we do this, it is on my terms, right?" I asked her.

"Yes, sir," she replied. "OK, I'll think about giving this some time. We may not last the month, but we'll see. Let see if you can abide by some ground rules. I want you to tell me if you understand them.

"First and foremost, I want you to do what I tell you. If you refuse me, no matter what the circumstances, the trial period is over and I will leave. Do you understand that?"

"Yes, sir," Becky replied.

"Then explain it to me," I said.

"I will never refuse you anything, sir," Becky said, looking at me intently. I really liked the way she rephrased this rule.

"Second, you have been complaining that you could not dress to please me because you were not happy with your body. You will dress to please me, and you will improve your body. Tomorrow I want you to sign up for a gym, and you will go every day. You will work hard, because if you do not, you will be punished. Tomorrow we will also go on a little shopping trip to get you nicer clothing. Do you understand this?"

"Yes, sir," she said. "I will dress to please you, and I will work out and get my body in better shape, or you will punish me. I understand and accept that, sir."

By this point, the new, more submissive Becky sitting across from me had me very turned on, and my cock was as hard as I could ever remember it being. "Becky, one thing you will not be doing very often is wearing underwear. Go to the ladies room and take off your bra. Do it in the open, not in a stall, and when you come out, hold the bra in your hand until you get back here, and then hand it to me."

Without even the slightest hesitation, Becky said, "Yes, sir," then got up and went to the ladies room. I really enjoyed watching her ass as she went, and looking around I could see that I was not the only one.

A few minutes later, Becky came out of the ladies room, followed by another woman; both of them looked slightly flushed. Becky came back to me, and you could clearly see that she was holding her bra. In addition, you could see her breasts jiggling nicely under her dress, and her nipples were clearly visible.

As she approached me, she reached out and handed me her bra, and said in a normal voice, "Here is my bra, sir." A few people at nearby tables looked up at that, but Becky just took her seat.

"What happened in there?" I asked.

"I went in, and there was another lady there, sir. But you had told me to take my bra off in the open area, so I just opened my dress there and pulled it down. The lady in there looked at me in surprise when I did that, and was even more shocked when I took my bra off. I couldn't help it sir, I asked her to help me close my dress. She asked me why I was doing it, sir, and I said that my master told me to. I hope I didn't overstep my bounds, sir."

Now I was the one to be shocked. I certainly hadn't used the 'master' word, at least not yet. She seemed to be getting into this much more than I expected. She still looked flushed. "Is all of this turning you on?" I asked her.

"Oh, sir," she said, looking into my eyes, "I am so wet that the back of my dress is going to be soaked!"

"Well," I said, "we certainly wouldn't want that. Flip your dress up so that your bare ass is on the seat."

She did so without complaint, and when I looked over I could see that her dress was up high enough in the front so that you could almost see her pussy, yet she did not seem to mind at all.

My mind was in turmoil. This night was not going at all as I expected. Was this the same Becky that I spent the last two years with? Maybe not, but then again, I didn't want to be the same person I had been for the last two years.

"I think we are up to my third point: punishment. If you don't behave as I expect, or if you do something wrong, it is my right to punish you, do you understand and agree?" I asked.

"Yes, sir. I understand that you will punish me as you see fit," she responded. Once again, her review of my terms seemed to be even more than I had said.

"OK," I said, "that is all for now. I will give you more rules as they come to me. I will take your trial deal, and see how it works."

"Oh, thank you, sir, you will not be sorry," Becky squealed, reaching over to give me a massive kiss.

"Understand, Becky," I continued after she sat back down, "that I will be pushing you. I will be enjoying myself with you. I will be using you for my pleasure. I will punish you, both when you deserve it and when I just feel like it. And one more thing, Becky: I will fuck you in your ass. Are you sure that you want to continue this?"

One thing that I had never been able to convince Becky, or any of my girlfriends to allow, was an ass-fuck. Becky always felt that her ass was a dirty place, an exit, not an entrance. Becky looked a little nervous for a second, and then whispered "My ass will be ready when you want it, sir."

My dick got even bigger, if that was possible. "Put your bra in your purse," I said, as I called the waiter over for the check. Outside, I got a cab for us and told it to go uptown to our apartment.

"Becky," I said, "seeing this new side of you has gotten me really horny. I want you to give me a blow job, and I want you to be nude when you do it."

Without a moments hesitation, and seemingly oblivious of the cab driver, she pulled the dress over her head and attacked my crotch. She ripped the zipper down and fished out my cock, no easy task considering how hard I was. She was not gentle or slow.

It appears the dinner we had just completed did nothing to quell her hunger, because she gobbled me down. The cab driver moved his mirror around so that he could see what she was doing, as Becky moved her head rapidly up and down my cock. Given my state of excitement, I knew I couldn't last long, but that was OK with me. She continued trying to shove my cock deep into her throat. Finally, I couldn't take it anymore.

Usually, I let her know before I came so she could decide to swallow or finish by jerking me off, but not this time. This time, I grabbed her head and held it on my cock as I squirted in her mouth without any warning.

I held her head on my cock till I was done then I let her go. She stayed by my cock, licking all around to make sure she got every drop. Then she sat back up and leaned back in the seat, still naked, and said, "I hope that pleased you sir. Is there anything else I can do for you?"

Once again, she had shocked me. Becky was no prude, but showing her body off for the cab driver is beyond what I thought she would do. I reached over between her legs and she spread them for me. She was sopping wet, just as she had told me in the restaurant. I played between her lips for a few minutes, swiping her clit every now and again. Then I leaned back and told her to turn to the side, leaning on the door. She did what I asked, and then I told her to make herself come.

This gave her the briefest moment of pause, as this was something she had never done in front of me, but then she reached down, opened herself up, and started moving her fingers in and out of herself. She had a large, untrimmed bush. It looked quite nice, but wasn't quite what I wanted. As she continued to move her fingers in and out, deeper and deeper, her other hand playing with her clit, I told her about her day tomorrow.

"Tomorrow," I said, with the cabdriver eavesdropping, "you will wake me with a blow job. After I am done using your body, you will shower, and we will go sign you up at a gym, where I will pick out a personal trainer for you. After we finish up there, you are going to go to a salon. I want you waxed everywhere. I want you to tell the technician that is taking care of you that you will be paddled one time for each hair that I find below your neck, so she had best be very thorough. Do you understand?"

She looked at me with wide eyes, gasping as she continued to masturbate, "You mean you want me to shave all the hair off my vagina? But I'll look like a little girl!" she wailed as she came. Something else interesting, I thought. I didn't know if she was just ready to come, or it was thinking that she would be like a little girl that got her off, but it was something I would definitely follow up on.

"No," I said, "You must get rid of all the hair on your pussy. And I did not tell you to stop playing with yourself."

Becky had moved her hands away from her pussy after she came. She always made me stop playing with her after she came, saying she was too sensitive, but that was going to be another thing that changed. She was going to become multi-orgasmic whether she wanted to or not.

"Also at the salon," I continued after her fingers were once again working at her pussy (though I noticed she was staying away from her clit; I let her get away with that for now), "you will get your hair colored. I always wanted to do it with a redhead, and you are going to become that redhead."

"Anything you say, sir," she breathed. It looked like she was on the way to orgasm number two.

"After you are finished with the salon, we are going to get you some new clothes. Not too many, because I expect you to lose enough weight that you won't fit them for long, but definitely some things to please me." I went on. "And then finally, I am going to send you to a sex shop by yourself. It will be your responsibility to pick out some toys that you think would please me. Do you understand all of that?" I asked.

"Yes, sir," she said. "Tomorrow, I am going to wake you with a (gasp) blow job and then allow you to use my body as you see fit until you are finished with it (grunt). Then you will take me to the gym and pick a trainer out for me (sigh) Then I will get waxed, telling the waxer that I will be paddled for every hair that is left belooooow the neck (oooh). Then I'll get my hair colored red, (gasp) get some sexy new clothes (ohhhh), then go to a sex shop (gasp) and buy fun toys for you siiiiiiir!." She came on the final "sir," her fingers having long since returned to her clit. After breathing heavily for a moment or two, she asked, "Did I get it right, sir?"

"You got it perfect, Becky," I said, smiling at her.

"We're here," said the cab driver, and sure enough we were back at our apartment. I wonder how long we were standing here.

"Put your dress back on, Becky," I said, as I handed the cab driver his money, and his tip, though he probably had tip enough watching Becky. I walked inside, following Becky's gorgeous ass. This was going to be very interesting month...

Friday Night - Day 0

When we got into the apartment, Becky jumped me as soon as I had closed the door. She started kissing me deeply and hugging me tight. "Thank you, thank you, thank you master. I know I can make you happy."

I stood there for a few minutes, enjoying making out with Becky. We hadn't made out with this much passion since the very early days of our dating, and I realized that I had missed it. I knew that this was something that I would require of her every day.

Finally, I stopped her and said "Rule number four: In the house, you will wear only those items that I have pre-approved for you, and there will not be many things that I allow you to wear in the house. As of now, I haven't allowed anything."

Becky immediately pulled her dress off and reached down and took off her sandals. She stood there in front of me, her hand held behind her back, her eyes down to the, gloriously nude. Once again, I marveled at this new Becky.

"Stay there," I said, as I walked around her, admiring her from all sides. Then I sat down on the couch and told her to come over to me. When she did, I pulled her by the wrist and slung her over my knee. With no warning, I started spanking her ass. She screamed and tried to pull away, but I did not let her.

After about 15 swats, I stopped and held her there. She was crying. I asked, "Do you know why I did that?"

"No," she said around her sobs.

I spanked her again, hard. "Do you know why I did that?" I repeated.

"No," she said, louder.

I spanked her once more. "Do you know why I did that?" I again repeated.

"No, sir," she said, finally getting it.

"I spanked you for two reasons. The first is that I think you have a very sexy ass that just begs to be spanked. I quite enjoyed it, though the next time I spank you will be with a paddle." I helped her down to kneel on the floor. She looked up at me.

"Do you have anything to say to me after I spank you?" I asked her. She looked at me for a few moments, confused and unsure what to say. Then she said, "Thank you for spanking me, master?"

"That is the correct thing to say, Becky, but it brings up the second reason I spanked you. Come sit on the couch next to me." She got up and sat next to me, and I took her hand and looked in her eyes.

"Becky," I told her, "that is the third time tonight that you called me master. If you see me as your master, what does that make you?"

"A slave?" she asked.

" A slave, or my slave?" I asked her.

"Your slave," she said, firmly.

"And that is the problem," I said to her. "What I agreed with you is a thirty-day trial period. I would see if you could treat me the way I want to be treated, ff you could act the way I would want a woman with me to act. I did not agree to take you as a slave.

"I am very new to this, and I don't know anything about master/slave culture, but I know that to me it implies a commitment to care for you and be responsible for you, and is not a temporary or trivial thing. And I would expect that for you it would a commitment to put my needs and desires first and foremost in all things, something you should not enter into lightly. I am still not convinced about your commitment or real desire to do this, so we will continue the trial period.

"If after the trial period you still want to be my slave, and I want to take on the responsibility of having you as my slave, then I will mark you as mine and make you my slave truly. Until then, you will not call me master, and I will not call you slave. You will call me 'sir', as you have been doing, and I will call you Becky, or slut, or cunt, or, if I want to sell your lovely body, whore. Do you understand and accept this?"

At the beginning of my little speech, Becky had stopped crying. By the end, it looked like her eyes were tearing up again, and she looked a little scared when I mentioned selling her body. She looked at me a moment, and then she responded.

"Sir, I am sorry for presuming too much. I don't want to push you in this trial period; I just want to show you that you could not find a better slave anywhere. Last week, I loved you more than you can imagine, though I understand that I did not show it well enough. Today, I love you just as much, and I know exactly how I can show you. I will do everything that you tell me. I will do everything I can to best the best slave possible.

"I understand that you need this trial period so that I can prove myself to you, but I have to tell you, sir, that I am ready to call you master right now. I know that after thirty days I will still be ready, and I will gladly take your mark. I love you, sir, and I always will."

With that, she got down off the couch and knelt in front of me, her knees together, her head looking down to the floor and her arms held behind her back, clearly showing her willing submissiveness. I was still in shock by her willingness.

When I broke up with Becky (was that only yesterday?), I thought I would eventually find someone that I would be in a relationship with someone that would put my needs first, but one in which we would still be reasonably equal. Now Becky had twisted this upside down, and I was really starting to believe that in a month's time she would be my marked slave, not nearly my equal, and happy with that.

I let her sit there for about five minutes, while I looked at her and thought about what I was getting myself into. Then I said, "That is an excellent pose, Becky, but whenever you sit or kneel, your legs should always be open so that I can always access your cunt, or rather my cunt." She immediately spread her legs.

"Let's go to bed, Becky," I said. I reached down and took her hand and helped her up and led her to our bedroom. I had her lay down on the bed.

"I want you to reach up and hold the headboard," I told her, "and keep your legs spread. Even though you frequently complain about it, I like your body, and I want to explore it. I don't want you to let go of headboard, no matter what."

With that, I began to explore her body again. This was something she did not let me do to often, because she is ticklish, but I started with her wrists and worked my way down her arms, kissing, licking and running my fingers along every inch of her. When I got to her head, I did the same to her ears, her forehead, her cheeks and her lips.

I took a bit of time off my exploration to kiss her deeply. Her tongue was frantic in my mouth. I reveled in this for a few moments before continuing my journey. I moved down to her shoulders and nibbled along her left side. She giggled and squirmed, exclaiming, "That tickles, sir!" but she did not put her hands down, and she let me continue.

I moved up to her left breast, nibbling all around the outside of the nipple. She kept thrusting her breast towards my mouth, wanting my tongue on her nipple, but I moved slowly. Becky has nice breasts, a large B or small C. They are reasonably firm, though they are starting to sag a little as she has put on some weight. I finally gave her, and me, what she wanted and sucked her nipple in my mouth.

"Oh, sir, I'm coming!" she cried, and amazingly, she did. At least as long as I've known her, she has never come with just breast play, but I guess this wasn't just breast play.

"Did I give you permission to come, you little slut?" I asked.

"No, sir, I'm sorry," she replied.

"Well, here is rule number five," I said, smiling down at her. "Unless I tell you different, you are to come as often and as loudly as you can. The only time I will punish you is if I feel you are holding back on an orgasm. Do you understand?" When I finished explaining rule number five, I attacked her right nipple. "Yes, sir," she said, "Thank you, sir! I understand, sir. I am to come and come and come and come and come, and I am coming again, I'm coming again. I am sir, ohhhhhhhhhh!"

I was once again shocked and amazed. She never let me get her off twice in a row, and now she has gotten off three times in a half hour and showed no signs of slowing. I moved off of her breast and down to her stomach, easing off a little to let her come down from her multiple orgasms. She was sweaty and delicious, and I licked down her stomach, over her hip (she jumped at that, but I knew that was an erogenous zone for her), and down the outside of her right leg.

As I reached her ankle and started down her foot, she began squirming and said, "Sir, please, my foot is all dirty and sweaty. Please don't."

I jumped up quickly, standing near the bed beside her head, looking down at her. "Are you refusing me something?" I growled at her. "Are you telling me to stop doing something that I want to do? Are you going to end this because you think that your feet are too sweaty for me to go near?"

"No, sir," she squeaked. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to try and stop you. I just didn't want you to get disgusted with me."

"Becky," I said, more calmly, "if I find something disgusting, then I will not do it. But if I want to lick your body after it has been covered in sweat and cum and piss and any other fluid you can think of, it is my choice. Do you understand?"

She looked a little shaken, but she said, "Yes sir, I understand that you will do with me what you want and you won't do the things that you don't like."

I knelt down next to her and held her head in my arms with my lips close to hers. "That's right, sweet Becky, though that doesn't mean that you won't do what you don't like, does it?" She shook her head.

I stood back up and moved down to her feet. "Now I am going to enjoy your sweaty, dirty feet, and you'd better enjoy it as well. And tomorrow, after you come home from the sex shop with a paddle, I will give you 15 swats on your ass for even thinking about denying me. I was going to make it 20, but I am very proud that this entire time you have not lowered your hands, so I will take 5 off."

She looked very pleased with herself as I went back to her ankle, and licked all around her feet. Despite what she said, she was not stinky or dirty; she was just slightly sweaty and delicious. When I took her toes in my mouth one by one, her breathing definitely went up a notch. After thoroughly cleaning her right foot, I went to work on her left. When I was done with that foot, I started making my way up leg, this time on the inside.

As I got above her knee, I was clearly able to tell what this night was doing for her. The inside of both her thighs were soaked and her pussy hair was matted down. As I spread her legs more, I could see her ass was soaked as well. It seemed to me that she was wetter than any time we had been together.

Something I should tell you about myself is that I love to eat pussy. It is one of my favorite things. If I were given the choice between spending the rest of my life without getting a blowjob and spending the rest of my life without eating pussy, I would choose to forego blowjobs. But of course, now it appeared as if I would have to give up neither.

I licked the fluids off her thighs. She was delicious. I moved up closer to her pussy, until my tongue was lightly moving over her pussy lips. I took one quick jab at her clit, and she jumped. Then I couldn't wait anymore and I dove in, trying to bury my face up her cunt. She was mewling and squirming and appeared to love every second of it. I even enjoyed my last night with her pussy hair.

After a little bit, I unplugged my tongue from deep within her cunt and started putting little licks around her clit as I put two fingers into her cunt. Normally I start with one and work my way up, but this time she was clearly ready for as much as I wanted to give her. After juicing my fingers up, I moved one down and started playing around her little asshole.

She gasped and clenched, but made no move to stop me. She even tried to loosen up a little as I got my finger squirmed into her ass up to the second knuckle. I didn't want to push her too fast, I want to build the anticipation, so I left it at that and started going to town on her clit as I moved my fingers in and out of her cunt and ass. In no time she was screaming over and over, "I'm coming again. I'm coming!"

I took my fingers out of her, but I barely let her come down at all before I had my tongue buried in her again. She was starting up the hill towards orgasm again when I decided it was finally my turn. I moved up her body, stopping very briefly to nip each tit, and I positioned my cock just inside her pussy. I looked her in the eye and said, "I never stopped loving you, you know. And now, I think, I may fall even more deeply in love with you."

Her eyes became a little teary as I sunk into her to the bottom in one slow, smooth movement. "I know," she said, "and I will never stop loving you."

I started making long, easy strokes, enjoying the feeling of her pussy around me. In the past, I had always tried to bring her off first, and as a result it somewhat dampened my enjoyment of what I was doing. Not this time. This time, while it might be nice to bring her off, I didn't care if I didn't. This fuck was for me.

I concentrated on the feeling of her pussy walls squeezing around my dick. It felt like there were constant little squeezes. And the amount of wetness that was everywhere made it feel so slippery and sensual. I looked down at her, and she was staring up at me, her mouth open, breathing heavily. Her eyes were completely glazed, her hair sweaty and lying in strands all around her face. She looked animalistic.

"My face is all wet from your pussy," I told her. "Clean me off with your tongue." In the past she has not wanted anything to do with her own pussy juices, but now she just leaned her head up and started making broad strokes on my face with her tongue, apparently even savoring the taste, pausing after every few strokes to shove her tongue in my mouth and share her taste with me.

After a few minutes (not too many, as I was so on edge from everything that we had done), I started moving in her faster. I was definitely getting closer. It looked like she was as well, but as I said, this one was for me, and so I concentrated on my own feelings as my balls started pulling up. When I squirted into her, it felt like all guts were going into her along with my cum. I held myself steady in her as I was coming, and I could feel her pussy squeezing around me as well as she squeaked in my ear. What do you know; she got off too!

Just before I collapsed, I rolled over, holding her on me as I stayed in her to pull her on top of me. I lay there for a little bit, exhausted, while she lay on me, her hair falling around my head, her eyes closed. I could feel her cunt continue to cum in little squeezes on my cock, pulling out the last of the juice that I had.

I pulled her head back by her hair so that I could look into her eyes. "Well, my little Becky, it looks like even though I was taking pleasure for myself, you might have gotten a little pleasure yourself."

She laughed weakly, which did interesting things to her cunt still wrapped around my cock. "Sir," she said, "if I give you more pleasure like that I think I will die of excessive orgasms. I have never come like that in my life."

We lay there for a while longer; until nature took its course I started shrinking out of her. "Sit up," I told her. She did, and I had her lift herself up over me.

"Look at that," I said, and we both watched our combined juices leak out of her cunt and onto my limp cock.

"Since I always want to be ready to have you suck me," I said, "it is important that my cock is kept clean. Therefore, after we fuck, it's your job to clean it off." She started to get up, presumably to get a towel, but I stopped her and said, "With your mouth, Becky."

To her credit, she did not even flinch as she bent over and started using her tongue to gently clean me off. I tend to get very sensitive after sex, but she knew that and was very careful. When she was done, she gave my cock a final kiss and said, "All clean, sir."

She started to get out of the bed, and I said, "Where do you think you are going?"

"To the bathroom to clean up," she responded.

"No," I said, "You don't get to clean up now. Come snuggle with me. You may not get out of the bed till I tell you to." She was clearly not comfortable with that, but she got into bed and I spooned her from behind, holding one of her tits in my hand, as we drifted off to sleep, both of us sweaty and smelly.

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