Verse & Vice

“Confess.”

The worst part was the darkness. I had nothing to go on but your voice, and you always held that steady.

“Sir, can we –”

“I said confess.”

Then again, the worst part might be what you were asking me to admit to – my darkest, most humiliating fantasies. I swallowed hard, trying to find the words, but they never quite came to me.

Your hand found my cheek, stroking the soft skin.

“What’s wrong, little one? Why won’t you obey me?”

Your tenderness was more than I deserved. My face warmed as embarrassment trickled through my veins, too thin to ruin me but still enough to reach every corner of my body. I leaned into your hand, trying to find some comfort against it, but even that just made more shame flood into me.

I had to answer.

“I can’t…  Sir, I can’t say it.”

I heard you hum, considering my answer as you played with the ties of the blindfold.

“I think you’re better than that.”

The humiliation of it was in full force, now. It wasn’t even the words you were asking me to say, but the fact that I was disappointing you.

“Sir…” My voice high and shaky as it pressed its way through my throat. “I want –”

“No.”

My voice was lost again as my whole body froze under the command.

“If you can’t say it, little one, I have other ways to know what you want.”

Oh no.

I felt your hand trail downwards, from the line of my neck to the curve of my breast and further still until it settled, warm and teasingly light, between my thighs. I felt your fingers slip between my folds, burning at the realisation of how slick they were already. You slipped your body behind mine, taking me into your lap and pressing your mouth into my neck.

I could feel your smile already.

“Would you like it if I ordered you to get a piercing for me, little one?”

Your fingers started rubbing softly against my clit then and I shivered against you, letting out a little moan.

“Mmm, it seems you might. Where should it be, though?”

Your other hand reached to pinch one of my nipples, dragging a sharp gasp from my throat.

“Sounds like a yes, then. And here?”
My attention had been following your free hand – there was nothing to prepare me for the pinch against my clit. I curled into myself, whimpering.

“Hmm, maybe you’re too sensitive for that, then.”

Your fingers moved further down. I wanted to squirm away, to take some control back, but you held me tight. I was under your control. One of your fingers traced the rim of me, teasing lightly before dipping deep into my core, curling into the exact spot you know I loved.

“What else would you like me to do, hmm? How else would you like me to change you?”

I could feel the words building in my throat again, but this time I held them back, worried you would stop if you got the answer you wanted. You added another finger, pumping them both inside me while your thumb found its way back to my clit, the soft torture of it pulling the answer you were looking for closer to my tongue.

“Would you like me to write on you? To mark you as mine where everyone can see?”

I whined as the words sent pleasure pulsing through me, forcing me to arch into you. You bit my neck in response, sucking into the thin skin, trying to pull a bruise to the surface.

Your thumb moved up slightly to the point where my folds began.

“Maybe I could even tattoo my initials here, so everyone knew what part of you was too weak to resist me, mm?”

An image flashed through me: at a party with your friends, shyly pulling up my skirt to show them just how thoroughly I belonged to you. Letting you fuck me in front of them, splitting me open, filling me –

“I want you to breed me, sir.”

The words came out before I could stop them. I was surprised at the sound of them, not desperate with want but soft with the relief of finally admitting it.

But your fingers had frozen against the heat of me.

I didn’t even whine as my pleasure stopped with them. The shame of what I’d said, of your lack of reaction to it, was too heavy to speak around. I curled into myself, trying to pull up and away from you. Maybe if I got away –

You pulled me back into you before I could get very far, your fingers taking up a much more punishing pace.

The sound of it was obscene.

“You think you’re ready for that level of ownership, little one? Prove it. Beg.”

I was panting around you now, clenching down on your fingers as I tried not to cum before you let me.

“I want… I want you to fill me, sir.”

Your voice was darker now, whatever gentle coaxing it had once had now lost to lust. 

“Is that all?”

“No, sir –” I whined, trying to pull myself off of your fingers, each admission bringing me closer to the edge. “I want – I want your friends to see it. I want everyone to see it. The way my body changes for you, the way you care for me, the way I serve you –”

Your breathing was coming fast now, and I felt the length of you pressed into me.

I needed it, I needed –

“What else, little one?”

Each word I spoke needed a breath of its own as I fought to keep my pleasure contained. 

“I need to be yours, sir. Forever.” 

“Good girl. Cum for me – now.”

I screamed with the relief of it. Wave after wave of pleasure crashed into me as I twitched in your arms, walls pulsing around you. Your fingers never stopped, driving me to the edge of overstimulation and beyond until I couldn’t tell if one orgasm blended into the next or if the first one never stopped.

You weren’t cruel, though. You slowed eventually, letting me whimper my way back to reality before stopping. You pulled your fingers out of me, tracing the sticky arousal over my lips for just a moment before they parted and let you inside.

You didn’t have to tell me to suck, to clean you. Such service was only natural to me, a calming ritual of devotion that brought me back to myself.

Your teeth found my earlobe, nipping it gently as you untied the blindfold.

The sudden light was too much – I hid against your chest, trying to hide from it even as your hand slipped down to cradle my lower stomach.

“Be careful what you wish for, little one. I might just make your dreams come true.”