Begging For It
by Emily Dubberley
I don’t like it when men are arrogant. If they act as if they’re better than me, I have to take them down a peg or two. Jake was a classic example. I met him at my evening class. I needed to learn Japanese for work and he was a fellow student. He’d lived in Japan for a few years and was taking the class as a refresher. He used to tease me about my pronunciation. I didn’t like that at all. Even worse, he used to eye me up, making it clear he was mentally undressing me. He’d slept with half the women in the class and fancied himself as some sort of stud so was always making crass comments, complimenting my cleavage or legs, expecting me to lap it up. He thought that it was his right to ogle me, not realising that some privileges have to be earned.
Luckily, he was a typical man. When he asked me out and I agreed to go for a meal with him, he thought his luck was in. He didn’t realise what I was planning. Yes, I admit it, I had been making plans involving his naked form. Even though he was an egotistical guttersnipe, he had a certain physical charm: buff pecs, pert buttocks and a handsome face that I couldn’t wait to see contorted in pain as he begged me for release.
Dinner went as I’d expected: he kept topping up my glass to help ‘relax’ me, flirting with a little too much emphasis on casual touching, letting his eyes linger that bit too long on my cleavage. When he turned the conversation around to sex, I almost yelled ‘Bingo!’, so predictable were his moves. Of course, this only made it easier for me to manipulate him. I didn’t need to make a single tweak to the machinations I’d configured in my fantasies about him.
As he edged closer to me, lowering his voice so that I had to lean forward to hear him, and asked me what really turned me on, I explained that I only had sex if I really liked someone. Or more specifically, if they did as I pleased.
“I always please my woman,” he said, smugly.
“I’m not just any woman,” I smiled. “I might surprise you with a few of the things I like.”
“I’ve been around the block a few times, sweetheart,” he said. “I don’t think there’s anything that a pretty little thing like you could do to surprise me.”
The trap was set.
“Well, if you’re a man of experience, I guess that I should invite you back for coffee.”
Again, a smug grin plastered itself across his face. I looked forward to wiping it off.
When we got home, I made him a coffee and left him sitting in the kitchen while I excused myself and went to change into my favourite outfit, grabbing my bag of toys on my way out of the bedroom. There’s something about wearing full Domme gear that makes it a lot easier to assert my control. I walked into the kitchen and leaned against the door frame. “Are you sure you can please me?” I asked him.
He was certainly surprised but seeing me in thigh-high boots and a tight basque clearly appealed because he hurriedly said yes.
“You will do everything I tell you?”
Again, he agreed.
“This is your last chance to escape. Are you sure that you want to do everything I tell you? If you agree now, we don’t stop until I say so.”
Jake gulped but was clearly excited at the prospect.
“I’ll do whatever you say.”
I ordered him to strip. He pulled off his T-shirt, pushed his jeans down and stood in front of me wearing nothing but a tight pair of Calvins. His cock was straining against them despite – or perhaps because of – the humiliation.
“I told you to strip.” I barked. “That means everything off. Are you stupid?”
He got naked, revealing a thick cock at least eight inches long and proudly erect. He tried to cover it, embarrassed at being aroused but I slapped his hand away.
“You’ve been staring at me for long enough. What’s the matter? Can’t take it back?”
He remained silent, clearly torn between embarrassment and arousal.
“Touch yourself. Stroke that pathetic little cock.”
He started at the word ‘little’.
“Yes, that’s right, little. Call yourself a real man? Still, it’s not like I’m going to waste my time touching it. Stroke your cock if you want to please me. Or aren’t you even man enough to please me by doing that?”
I looked him straight in the eye as I spoke.
“And don’t look at me while you’re doing it. You’ve already had more than enough eyefuls of me. It’s your turn to be watched. See how you like it.”
Although Jake’s movements were reticent, his ever-hardening cock showed that he liked my harsh treatment. Obviously, I’d have to make him suffer for his enjoyment later. But for the moment, I enjoyed watching his hand slide up and down his stiff shaft, his cock-head leaking pre-cum, his thumb rubbing his sensitive glans. I could feel my pussy moistening at the sight but there was no way I was going to let him know that quite yet.
“Spit on your worthless cock,” I ordered him.
Again, he flinched, but did as I asked, his saliva lubricating his throbbing member. His hand movements sped, the extra slipperiness enhancing the sensation.
I could see that he was getting close to coming -- something that most certainly wasn’t allowed. His face began to contort with lust so I hurriedly moved to him. He was so lost in the sensations his own hand was providing that he didn’t have time to refocus his attention before I’d shackled his wrists together with my police issue handcuffs then looped a length of rope between them and pulled his wrists high above his head, leaving his cock bobbing clumsily as I pulled the rope between his thighs and knotted the rope around his waist to hold his arms awkwardly in place.
“What the fuck …”
The look of confusion on Jake’s face was exquisite.
“You don’t think that you get to come before I do, you pathetic boy, do you?”
Jake shook his head, his petulant pout clearly revealing that that was exactly what he’d been thinking.
“If you please me enough, maybe I’ll be nice. Now, on your knees.”
I put one leg up onto a chair in front of him and he did as he was told.
“The rules are simple. You can lick my clit but nowhere else. If you struggle or try to escape your bonds, I won’t let you come all night. And I’ll slide this inside your arse.”
I pulled a sizeable butt plug out of my bag of tricks.
“And that’s if I feel like being kind. You have no idea how bad I can be if you displease me.”
Jake was looking genuinely scared, but his hard on showed that he was still getting off on the humiliation I was putting him through.
“Well, what are you waiting for? Lick my cunt.”
Jake did as he was told.
He looked ridiculous kneeling between my legs, arms over his head and neck craning forward as if bobbing for apples, but when his tongue touched my clit, I had to grip on to the kitchen table to keep my balance. The boy certainly had skill. His strokes were slow and soft, almost teasing. He used his mouth as much as his tongue, brushing the soft underside of his lower lip over the very tip of my clit, and sucking me into his mouth as if I had a miniature penis between my legs. I stifled my gasps, not wanting him to know the pleasure that he was giving me, as he ran his tongue up and down my clit then moved down to my hole.
As his tongue darted in and out of my pussy, making my clit yearn for more attention, I decided it was time to show him who was boss once more. I grabbed the back of his head and pulled it into my crotch, using the other hand to cover his eyes. I didn’t want him to see my pleasure. He was there purely for me to use, to take and to discard. With this thought looping through my mind, I ground my clit into his face, loving the sounds of his stifled breathing and the look of his cock getting ever harder as he licked my sopping pussy. It was only a matter of seconds before I came hard, biting my lip to stop myself from crying out and giving him the satisfaction of knowing he’d pleased me.
I kept hold of the back of his head until I’d recovered from my orgasm, then pushed him away and stood in front of him, looking calm.
“Call that cunnilingus? You really are pathetic,” I sneered.
“I want you.” He groaned.
I couldn’t believe his cheek.
“Did I give you permission to speak? As you may have heard, I want, doesn’t get. However, I am in need of some entertainment so …” I sat down on the chair, “...you can finish off that wank now.”
He looked as if he was going to cry, realising he was here only to give pleasure, not get it.
“Come on!” I was getting impatient. “If you want to come, come. If not, leave. I should have guessed you weren’t hardcore enough to play properly.
Looking hurt at my taunts, Jake put his hand on his cock and started to pump it, rubbing his thumb over its sensitive end.
“You’ll have to be quicker than that. My flatmate will be home soon and I’m not letting you stop until you come, even if he does come in.”
It was a lie but I was getting bored and wanted to get rid of him so that I could give myself a few more orgasms. I wasn’t going to let him see me abandon myself that much. He hadn’t earned the right to see my climax.
He pumped harder and faster, clearly worried but desperate to come.
“Do you like wanking for me like a sad pervert? Do you like knowing that I’m watching you and thinking what a pathetic little wanker you are?”
Clearly he did. Almost as soon as the taunts were out of my mouth, Jake’s knees buckled and his cum spurted copiously all over the kitchen table, narrowly missing me.
“You disgusting boy. That was bad. You don’t want my flatmate to know you’ve been wanking over the kitchen table do you? You’d better lick it off.”
I knew that I’d pushed him further than he’d ever been pushed before. Jake looked flushed and ashamed as he knelt to lick the table clean of his own cum. I enjoyed seeing the look on his face and would remember it later when I was alone.
“Show me,” I said, and smiled as he obediently opened his mouth to show me his own cum.
“At least you can follow some orders. That’s a start. Right, all done then.”
Jake looked shocked at my dismissal. I tapped my foot impatiently.
“Well, get your clothes on and hurry off home. I’ve got plans. If you’re good, maybe we can meet after next week’s class and I can play with you properly. You do realise that I was very gentle with you tonight, don’t you?”
“I can see you again?” Jake’s eyes were bright with excitement despite his clear anxiety at the thought of what I might inflict on him next week.
“You’ve still got a lot to do before you learn your lesson. Now, get out of my sight!”
My eyes followed Jake’s tight arse as he left my flat. I smiled to myself, already formulating plans for next week’s lesson.