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Better than Chamomile

This is a work of adult fiction and should be read only by adults.

It is also my work. Although I receive no compensation other than

your comments, it is still my work. Please respect this and do not

repost it somewhere else without talking to me first about it. If

you are not allowed to read works with sexual content, either due to

your age or by virtue of the laws in the geographical location in

which you reside, please do not continue.

Enjoy, and if you're so inclined, please let me know what you think.

Alexis (ealexissiefert@yahoo.com)

~~~~~~~~~

Better than Chamomile {FF cons rom anal toys oral light BDSM)

It's one of those rare, perfect days. The sun is out, and it's warm

but not oppressive. I'm "lizarding" this afternoon, sunning myself on

the concrete. The heat reflects up off 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. I'm sure that you 'look' 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 awkwardly.

"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." With

you standing before me, I reach up to unzip your skirt and slide it

down over your hips. Your thighs are perfectly outlined by the

elastic-lace tops of your thigh-high stockings, and with my thumbs I

hook under the waistband of your panties, holding the fabric as you

step delicately out of them. I lean forward to give your thigh a

quick kiss. "Mmmm. Getting better. Now, sit dear."

I pat the soft mat next to mine on the concrete. As you sit, I

quickly open the buttons of your tailored jacket and sensible white

silk blouse and slip them over your shoulders. Then with a practiced

flick of my thumb and forefinger, I open the front clasp of your pink

bra. My fingertips graze the hollow of your collarbone, and I smile

at the slight shiver that causes your skin to tremble.

"Lie back and close your eyes."

I sit behind you and cradle your head between my knees. I stroke

your temples, holding your head in my palms, and using my thumbs to

stroke your eyelids, gently pressing to release the stress. Using

delicate 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 mahogany 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 softly stroke your lips with my fingertip, moaning almost

imperceptibly as you suck them between your lips. I sigh airily as

your mouth surrounds my two fingers. I lean over you, bending down to

graze your mouth with mine, and my moistened fingers drift down to

fondle your taut nipple.

Your tongue searches for mine, and my lips part to press 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 as

I feel, hear your sharp intake of breath. I grasp your hair with my

other hand, my fingers buried in your scalp, pulling 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 flak, 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..."

"Anything, love."

I rise up on my knees, and turn so that I am above your face,

centered over your parted lips. Slowly I lower my hips, 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 you're always 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 of 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 doubt.

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 lift 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 suppress 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 unfamiliar pleasure

of controlling you.

I let the strap dangle from my hand, loosely swinging to the rhythm

of the music coming from the poolside speakers. Soft strains of

Sarah Brightman's _Il Mio Cuore Va_ drift past us, subduing our

voices as we unconsciously match the perfect almost-silence of her

song. The strap strokes gently between your legs, sending obvious

tremors through your body. I let it stroke over your swollen clit,

gently, slowly. My wrist snaps almost imperceptibly and the rough

leather tip catches your pearl. Firmly striking, not too hard, but

enough to reward myself with your quiet yelp.

I need to reassure myself that you're enjoying this; that I'm not

taking you too far on your first venture under the strap. I bend my

knees to dip my fingers into your pussy, and I shake my head at the

wetness forming there, watching it begin to drip from your spread

cunt. It's starting to pool on the ground between your tight ass

cheeks, and I know from experience that you can feel it heating up on

the warm concrete beneath you.

Your eyes meet mine, but they're barely focused. You've started to

drift into that hazy place, the need has begun to fill you, and

desire is taking over your rational thoughts. In answer to your

unspoken plea, I use my thumb to push against your clit, grinding it,

pulling a loud moan from your throat. Two fingers push roughly

inside of you as my thumb continues its slow circles.

With my other hand, the one wielding the strap, I flick my wrist

again, bringing the tip of the strap across your tight, hard nipples,

leaving rough red stripes over both beautiful breasts.

The pain obviously brings some focus back to your brain, and you

groan. "Please, Simone, please...don't stop..."

I pull my fingers, dripping with the juice from your pussy, and

without pausing roughly shove both of them into your tight ass, still

grinding your clit with my thumb. I pump your rosette with my

fingers, spreading them inside of you, opening your ass to my hands.

I smile as I watch you writhe, knowing that with each pull on the

ropes they bind more tightly around your wrists and ankles.

Wet with your own lust, your own juice, I add a third finger deep

inside your tight asshole. The warm, buttery channel opens to me,

forced to mold around my fingers. I spread my three fingers to force

your tightest hole open further, twisting them until you remain

slightly dilated when I pull my fingers from your opening.

Despite your desire, evidenced by the juice still pouring from your

cunt, you moan, "please, no more."

I shake my head and softly whisper, "Oh no, dear, that's not in the

play. I believe your words were, 'anything, love.' You know that I

take things very literally." A smile forms on my lips as your body

relaxes just slightly, I know you've given yourself over to me. I

use my palm to slap your swollen, hard clit, hearing my strike echo.

I pivot and bend over to loosen the rope around your ankles, adding

some slack to the cord. Your lips silently mouth a 'thank you,' but

they clench shut as I swiftly wrap the bindings around your knees,

pulling them up to your chest. I can tell you're debating whether or

not to protest this change, but I move quickly, before you can

formulate the complaint forming in your mind. I use additional

lengths of cord around your knees, binding them up and spread, the

rope extending to your wrists, leaving you helpless on your back with

your knees spread wide.

I stand and return to the table, taking from it a large double-

headed dildo. It's a favorite of yours, I know, but not normally

from this vantage-point. Pausing over you, I slowly work one end into

my dripping pussy, then I kneel between your spread legs and finger

your open asshole. A touch of cool gel over your opening, then

forced deep into your hole, still dilated from my fingers. I place

the huge tip of the dildo at your opening and start to push. I can

feel the resistance of your tight muscle ring as the dildo is forced

deeper into my own aching pussy. Your groan fills my ears as your

body begins to shake. Through half-closed eyes I can see your head

slowly thrashing as I push, forcing the huge fake-cock through your

hole. It's too big for you, I know. You're not usually the recipient

of anal activity when we're together, but I also know that you'll

adapt. You're strong.

The vision of your ass blooming around the rubber cock head is

magical. My head begins to spin with the waves of orgasm, and I

begin to moan as your resistance fucks the cock deeper into my

wanting, craving pussy. Slowly, pushing, until, with an audible

"pop" the head is through the tight, formerly resistant muscle.

Your scream surrounds us, but I can hear that it's a scream of

release, of pleasure. I can feel your legs strain against the cords,

fighting to straighten; your body struggling against the intrusion,

until you finally relax, giving in completely to me. I begin to

thrust faster, taking myself to the edge of my own orgasm, holding

myself there, denying my own pleasure until you can travel there with

me. My fingers begin to dance over your rock-hard clit, pulling you

along with me, drawing the orgasm from your sore, tired, and now-

wounded body. Your thighs clench, and I can see the bulge of your

jaw as your body tenses, stiffens. Your shudders cause the dildo to

vibrate within me, and I'm forced over the edge. My vision blurs

until I'm aware only of your cries of pleasure mingling with my own.

It's an eternity before the world returns, and even then it comes

back in pieces. The gentle lapping of the water against the tile-

lined pool side is what finally draws me back to our reality. I look

down at you, your body slack, spent, and I slowly draw the monstrous

dildo from your ass. As it pulls from your body, I lean over you to

kiss your perfect lips. I whisper into your mouth.

"Now, dearest, tell me about your day."