A Bit of Nothing Ch. 09

Content Warning: Under BDSM, the elements of Domination/submission, impact play and verbal degradation/humiliation is explicitly and graphically written here. Readers' discretion are adviced.

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Chapter 9

Mike's lazy strokes sank into my cunt soon after and began to thrust in rhythm. At first, it was the ordinary two fingers, but when he said I'd opened wider (which I did), my raised, folded legs finally had three fingers jammed inside.

"Yeah... Mike, ha...." I cried out, obviously lost in that aching, delicious finger fuck. He began pumping those three, then he tried four.

"How 'bout this?" he said briefly before digging them in. My walls wouldn't have it. He chuckled. "Tight pussy."

I exhaled and looked down at the drilled tunnel. "It feels like nothing, Mike. Bring it back to three. And more lube," I instructed.

He complied and withdrew all his fingers at once. My pussy even parted with a sloshing slip.

He walked to get the lube and came back, a good amount already applied on his fingers. "How 'bout if I eat you instead?" he offered.

"I'm not in the vibe for that right now," I declined. "I'm thinking of giving you a lap dance."

He just made a noncommittal sound before getting back to me. "Later. For now, we'll get you done," he said, and resumed.

Three fingers pumped without faltering as I raised my legs back and spread them wide open. I panted like the horny bitch I can be when I like what he's giving me. There came the rising peak, almost too sweet before it flooded. My mouth opened, panted, and gulped. My hips rolled even with Mike's arm between my thighs, still stroking.

I cried out, my face showing eager surrender to how good it feels, moaning. Until the orgasm came and the expected shiver followed.

Stimulated and my arousal still high, my urge to enact my fantasy had grown stronger. So aroused, but my voice still steady, I said, "Sit up. I want to give you a lap dance."

He did. So in a reverse cowgirl, with my back against his chest, I sat on his bulging dick covered by his pants and started grinding. Doesn't matter if his pants get stained by my creamy pussy, I just wanted to grind some dick after that warm-up.

"Where'd you learn to do this?" he asked, grabbing my hair and placing his palm on the small of my back for guidance.

"Strippers."

He chortled. "Where?"

"That's my day hustle," I said, turning sideways to look at him. Still rolling and grinding. I could feel his dick getting harder and harder. He reclined his head against the back of the sofa and swallowed hard.

"I like how your waist rolls, babe," he sighed, then blinked multiple times, his mouth slightly open. He groaned.

My legs spread wider, finding a good spot to latch my open cunt against the tent in his pants. Once I found a good center of pressure, I leaned further down and circled my hips. "Mike, babe," I cooed. "Can we play rougher than last time?"

Oh, fuck. The pressure was giving me tingles. My neck and brain shivered. I moaned out my request, "I want to be rutted like a good bitch, y'know. Slap my ass and grit your voice near my ear while asking if this is what I want? If I'm made to be your slut."

"Shit," he exhaled in flinching gasps. But then his mouth relaxed, and he let out a throaty groan. "Are you made to be my slut, Kat?"

I hummed and rolled my hips back in steady, slow humps. "What am I right now?"

He stifled his laughter before letting it all out, reclining further back on the sofa to watch me. "I guess you're a stripper right now. You've got some moves grinding my cock, that's for sure. Tell me more, though."

I let my pelvis do the talking, leaning forward and holding both of his knees to keep the lap dance going. "You know, like those song lyrics where you give orders, like: if you're a woman you are made to pleasure me. But out on corners hide those shoulders underneath," I tried to sing.

He laughed, obviously enjoying what I was doing. "I'll try," he blurted in the end.

"Hmm..." I responded in a lazy hum. "'Kay, babe."

I got tired of that position, so I leaned back against his hard chest, emanating warmth, luxuriating in his support. He wrapped his arms around me, then placed one hand on my pussy, following my movements. I let out a pleased purr.

"Or you could snap and pull my hair, then accuse me of being such a bad bitch," I continued, moaning afterward. "Ask if I'm your puta? If this is what I want? I want your pronunciation of puta to hit hard, y'know. The one that'll make me come so bad."

"Babe, I'm not quite sure," replied Mike, hesitance crawling into his voice. "That reminds me of stuff I heard growing up. For real, are you sure 'bout this?"

I nodded. "I want it. Make me your perfect mark. I'd be your loyal bitch."

"I heard we should establish a safe word first. What would be your safe word then, Kat?"

"Abort. The word abort, Mike. Like that." I groaned. "Do you want a blow? I think I'm soiling your pants with some wet-ass pussy right now," I offered, my eyes having closed as I savored the pressure of his dick against me.

"Wait." He told me to get up for a while as he walked towards the TV's drawer to bring out my vibrator.

Yeah, that's how boredom gets me when I'm being a couch potato sometimes. And my sexercise with Kegel balls, don't leave that one out.

Before he sat back down, he opened his fly and sprang out his erected cock. He ordered me that before I sat back on him, I should guide his cock in first and then spread my legs for the vibrator.

I ended up reclined against his chest, whimpering and melting all at once as he teased me with that vibrator while his cock stretched and filled up my pussy. He began stroking too. "You want this, Kat? You want to be stroked and pampered like a feline, don't you?" he said, mildly pumping me in and out, locking his arms around me.

"Mm-hmm," I whimpered. It felt so good when Mike took charge.

Ah...

"You're made to be pleased, aren't you? Turning you into my slut?" he spoke in a deep voice, rubbing my pussy inside and toying with my clit outside. "You like how I make you my cumdump, do you?"

I leaned sideways before looking up, and smiled. "Yeah."

His cock twitched inside me. I received plunging, swift thrusts thereafter. Shooting strings of hot pour inside me. With eyes closed, Mike kept his own shut tight as his head swung briefly.

Then he exhaled. His movements stopped afterward. "Much better. Now, let's get you back in business," he said.

He didn't withdraw. Instead, he kissed my head, reached for my face, and leaned down to capture my lips as we kissed. His other hand played with my tits, but soon, the vibrator was finally applied directly to my clit for a more intense build-up.

I cried out into his mouth, where he locked me, as always, in a long and deep kiss. My body shivered before it convulsed. The vibrator's intensity, combined with Mike's deep kiss stealing my breath, made me gasp. He ended the kiss, leaving me to catch my breath.

My body softened into a pliant heap; I was left in a daze.

"You're not proposing another round, are you?" he then murmured.

Still dumbfounded, I looked up and nodded.

"Nah. Let's take this one to the room."

The room. My mind sobered up, and I took a deep breath. I got up from him and sank onto the sofa while an internal waggle of my eyebrows lit up: our sex room. Instruments, apparatus, furnishings, and toys are kept there for our needs. So far, though, I'd mainly urged him to purchase furnishings necessary for our height difference. No obstacle can overcome horny bitches and sex-driven youngbloods. Duh.

Before anything else, both of us absolutely needed to shower. But I don't really prefer going with him 'cause temptation is high to get sidetracked from the shower room to the more cozy bedroom. Showering together is too water-wet and washes off my lubrication. Besides, shower sex is overrated; it could lead to physical injury like slipping your foot and tumbling on your ass. Sooo comedy-coded.

He took a speedy shower, and I followed, but the momentum got fuckin' ruined. The cozy ambiance of the sex room made us fall soundly asleep instead. In the end, we just slept naked, no sex.

A minor mishap. Which I think was a blessing in disguise since I got to wear my lingerie the next time I had him. And I timed it well, ha-ha. It would be Saturday early evening. I'd lure him, a little massage here and there, a little 'I-prepared-you-a-meal' (but it's actually takeout from a restaurant, since when I cook badly, it often turns into charcoal). And, a little peek at my cleavage while I massage his tensed shoulders, accidentally grazing my perky tits against his back.

I winked at the thought.

In my silk robe, I let myself be seen in the kitchen. Just like Meghan Markle, I transferred that takeout meal from its container to a basic white plate and called it a home-cooked meal done by me.

When he finally strutted in after his shower, wearing a shirt and pj's, he was so delighted he asked what was up. If it's Michael and food, that's always how it goes.

"I cooked you a meal," I proudly presented.

He made an enthusiastic sound before taking a spoon and immediately digging in. "Where'd you get it? At Pao's?"

My face straightened, not even trying to hide it. He snorted and chuckled between chews as he looked at me like a tease. Pao is the restaurant where I bought the meal.

Bitch just killed my vibe.

See? This is another reason why we should have just been fuck buddies in the first place. Having him as a boyfriend really incites urges for physical altercation. "'Kay," I conceded. But then I got annoyed. "Damn it, Mike. It could've been a fine start."

"Of what?" he probed.

My agitation turned into a bristling demeanor. "Nothing!"

And I walked off.

"Katarina," he suddenly demanded in that deep, authoritative voice. "I'm not done talking with you. Get back in here," he coaxed in his last statement.

Okay, Mike. My mind cheered at him being my Dom.

So I went back, and all the pettiness dissipated as I greeted him again with a beaming face. My eyes rounded, focusing on him while he was still in the middle of his meal.

"Sit at the kitchen counter. Let me finish this," he added.

Okay. So with an anticipating hum, I got onto the high chair. But why sit on a high chair when I can sit on the counter and be his dessert? Ha-ha! I let out an internal maniacal laugh. Choosing to sit on the counter table, I crossed my ankles and kept swinging them, staring at Mike with 'come hither' eyes.

He swept his gaze over me before drinking a glass of water. Once refreshed, he exhaled and walked towards me with renewed awareness. "So what do we have here?" he asked.

I removed the ties of my robe and showcased what I had prepared. If you ask me what style of lingerie I had on, let me tell you: it was a transparent lacy bra and crotchless panties. I reclined further, using my planted hand and arm for support, and stretched my back. I spread my legs wide and clear.

"Dessert, babe," I said.

Mike paused, his gaze skimming with absolute focus all over me, then up and down. What he probably saw were perky, plump tits and a waxed pussy. Pampered and wet, this pussy shimmered like diamonds.

"Cherry on top," I added.

He made a bouncy strut as he approached me, his right arm swinging until it rested on his chin. "Damn," he said, "let me have that."

Once he stopped in front of me, he crouched and ate me. He made slurping noises alongside messy licking taps to have my pussy lubricate and get more moist. His head between my fuckin' legs shot my arousal instantly; my pelvis leaned forward to meet more of him. Fuck, the way that soft tongue wagged under the hood of my clit.

One sweep, more quick licks. Two long sweeps--oh fuck. He added a finger, hooked inside my walls just behind my clit, and another smooth, long lick of his tongue came over. A sweep, and my skin spiked with shivers. A hook, and my walls pounded with a build-up. His tongue licked, his fingers crooked--god....

He could make my eyes turn white, rolled so far back. I rolled my hips a bit too eagerly, brushing against his hair as I stretched my legs wider. Fuck, this looked erotic as hell. Thighs wide open, breasts out, and a head going down on you.

But he stopped and got up to take my mouth with his for a sucking kiss. And like a sucker, I got carried away by his decisive invitation. I opened my mouth to welcome him, while his fingers replaced his mouth on my pussy, caressing with light strokes between my folds.

When our tongue play got intense, I lost my senses, realizing he was already pumping his fingers inside me. Oh, shit. Now I was even more lost. In a hazy equilibrium as he thrust his digits, one hand pulled the cup of my bra down, before he ended the kiss and got lower to begin giving my tits some suckling attention.

I threw my head back, moaned, and wrapped my hands around his hair. His warm mouth enveloped my right nipple; then he moved to the other, sinking his fingers deeper at the same time. He crooked them inside my walls and suckled my tits further. Then softly bit a nipple.

I chuckled, looking down at what he kept doing as he slowed his strokes inside my pussy walls. His head came up, and he lavished my neck with his mouth, too many sucking kisses until he made one heavy suck and rapidly wriggled inside my walls again.

He wriggled with such intensity, I writhed, then came hard while hearing, close to my ear, Mike's mouth making an audible suck that popped on my neck skin.

"Lie down," he ordered.

I was too eager to comply. The next thing I was aware of, he looked to me and started pouring Nutella all over my titties and stomach. Damn, it'll be sticky... But whatever. It's hot as fuck.

He pulled down his pajama pants, held his cock, and buried it inside me before he started rocking.

Ha--

Fuck y'all, it's so good.

Mmmm... I could see from my peripheral vision below how my tits bounced, pussy filled and slick. And as I stared above, I saw his dazzling face. My pelvis made snappy, slapping, squishing sounds, skin to skin, until he moved into steady, rhythmic strokes.

Mike's large hand reached out and held me by the jaw. Oh my... are we into choking? Why not? Teehee. But he just moved my head sideways to expose one side of my neck. "You have a hickey on your neck," he informed. "Now, who's my marked, loyal bitch?"

Ooh... so this is where this is going? I couldn't wait.

His rubbing cock kept me hovering in this delicious limbo. I turned my head, smiling. I think I like this guy sometimes. "Hmmm?" I moaned, breathing into this chocolate mess as my pussy clutched him tight.

The lifted corners of my lips didn't leave as I watched him. He watched me, too. Though, he looked a bit weird; his gaze had that glimmer, but the center of his pupils seemed a bit dark or something? Also, his face had softened, contrary to the way he was pumping into me right now. It didn't align with his thrusts.

Yeah. Whatever.

I took a carefree breath, then smiled and looked at him with coyness. My head tilted a bit for a coquettish finish. His smile grew, then he laughed. He leaned towards me and started licking my belly button, before reaching my breast with the tip of his tongue.

It pricked my brain with an acute tickle, making me chuckle. He suckled on them again, both of them, before he came to face me with a Nutella-flavored kiss.

The kiss was slower this time, though. His soft lips felt lighter, even lingering. Hmmm...

That's weird. What for?

"This is where your Frederic will never get a share," he spoke in shallow breaths, his voice husky. "He couldn't taste this dessert."

I laughed and grabbed his head as he lavished me with kisses on both my cheeks and neck. His strokes had slowed down, still moving but no longer fast. "That's ancient history, my god, Mike," I called out between laughs.

"I know. I know..." was his vague reply. Then he wrapped one arm around my waist and began to pump. Seriously pump.

My voice flailed into hiccupy pants, "Uh--ooh... Mike, yeah... Mmhmm..."

And he did it again, in a different tempo, almost making me lose my senses. "M-Mike," I couldn't continue 'cause I ended up letting out a long moan. I tried again, "Mike--ugh--no.... Uh... Can we d-do--oh god, yes--can we do what I asked you? Hmm..."

My fuckin' eyes had to close, and I began to wrap my legs around his hips. Fuck, I'm coming. He let go of his arm around me and stopped. After a quick withdrawal, he came back with a commanding order, "Quick. All fours."

Fuck if I wouldn't move. He denied me again! So I stretched out my hand so he could pull me up, and I rushed to move and assume a posture that looked like an eager bitch, thighs wide open for a big cock to come. He drove in. Oh... god. It's back.

But he stroked so slow that somehow it dampened my arousal. What a defeat...

"Hey, Kat," said the man behind me. "I thought of a new form of slap."

I turned my head and saw him stalling in that snail's speed thrust. Asshole. "What?"

"This," he replied, then grabbed the strap of my bra hook, pulled it back, and released it, creating a snapping sound against my back skin.

And pounded. Shit. That's a good one. He pounded again, my walls thickened and stretched for him. But then there was my snapping bra behind me. He quickened his thrusts, this time the kind that kept me aroused, but then the fuckin' bra!

"Michael," I whimpered, not in pleasure, but in fuckin' annoyance. He laughed and rolled his thumb and finger on my bra's hook area. "Not that slap! I want it to sting on my ass," I said, pressing every word just in case he couldn't hear.

Mike, why do you have to be such an asshole?!

"Alright," he said, running his hand from my back down to my hip, as both of his hands now adjusted my position. I returned my attention behind me once more. "Like this," he continued, but barely patted my ass cheek. He chuckled once more.

"Mike! Damn it! You keep putting me on edge, but why does it seem like you're the one holding back?"

He didn't reply but unhooked my bra and ran his palm all over my back, still in that slow motion. He grew quiet and held his palm firmly flat as he palmed my back. After a few more moments, he grabbed a fistful of my hair. "What if I pulled your hair like this?" He gave it a teasing nudge.

"Why not?"

"Nah," he clucked his tongue. "I like this way better." He let go of my hair and just brushed it aside while he settled his big palm flat on my back. "My palm makes your back a little warmer, Kat. Your skin temperature is dropping," he chattered.

Gosh, Mike... I let out an internal, resigned sigh.

He found my clit and began giving relentless strokes. Shit, my anger dissipated once more, and I groaned from the recollected sensations.

Slap!

Shit. Oh fuck--

Slap!

Damn, that stings...

Slap!

Oh god, no... Yes...

The grind of his cock kept me filled; with steady rhythmic strokes, it tried to alleviate the incoming pain. I let out a wincing moan. "Yes... Mike... Please..."

"Aren't you made to be my slut, Kat?" His voice dropped into a cold note.

Slap!

Fuck, it stings. My eyes jerked with tears from it. "Yes. Yes, Mike. I'm your slut."

Another open palm landed on the other ass cheek, another hot sting of a slap hit me. "You know that's not enough. What makes you a good bitch, huh?"

I didn't know. My face was twisted from pain and his thrusts.

"Speak!" He slapped again.

No... the pain. Fuck, but his cock grinds, oh fuck, I don't know.

I felt him crouch, and the plane of his chest pressed against my back. His lips nipped my ear before caressing those stinging ass cheeks. He was still riding me. "When you're outside, hide those fuckin' shoulders, will you? You're a woman who's made to pleasure me," he chastised.

I nodded. "Okay."

"Okay?"

He fuckin' slapped me again. I winced out loud this time. But he played with my clit. He whispered something once more. "You want this, do you?"

I nodded.

"This is what you want, right? When I make you my whore..." He gave my clit pressure and moved his cock to hit a certain spot. "And that is your answer? What are you to me?" he repeated.

All that fuckin' hot sting was spreading ache all over my skin, and the pressure inside my pelvis from his buried cock kept touching my walls.... I don't know, god... I couldn't speak.

I moaned and melted helplessly against him.

"Don't make me do it again, slut. Answer me," he demanded. "What are you to me?"

"Your slut," my hoarse voice croaked, looking up at Mike's hardened face. He looked so cold and dark.

He gritted his teeth close to me and groaned as he drilled with fast, pummeling thrusts.

"You're my puta," he enunciated in a full voice, blowing out every stressed syllable, tight and rounded. "You like how I make you my whore, don't you? You're just my mere puta. My fucktoy."

My body...

Poured over with slow, flooding shivers, my brain melted, and the rising gooseflesh on my skin went stiff. My eyes tore up, and I cried out, until intense convulsions took me over. Slammed against him, pulled his cock in, gripping Mike's cock tighter than I thought possible. I heard his groans and might have felt his release. But I was shaking, my mind wrung out, this high-pitched sound draining out of me.

When it subsided, I couldn't speak, couldn't think; I just watched my surroundings absentmindedly. Is this what intense sex does to people?

"Oh my... Katarina, I'm sorry," I heard Mike say.

He withdrew, carried me up, and rushed us together into the shower. With labored breaths under the drizzling shower, he cupped my face and kissed me multiple times. I felt like I was watching everything from outside my soul. But he rushed with efficiency to get us clean. Afterward, he made practiced, quick movements--probably from his profession--to get us dry.

He got into his pajamas and dressed me in his big shirt. Then he pulled me down to recline against his chest once more as he blow-dried my hair before both of us could lay down on his bed. He pulled me towards him, kissed me multiple times, said he'd never say those things to me again, and hugged me tightly.

This went on for an hour. Until I could actually respond and became receptive to his attention. This is his usual self. His light kisses, his arms wrapped around me for comfort. My palms began tracing his beautiful face. "Thank you, Mike."

"God, Katarina... I can't. I'm not doing it again," he kept repeating.

I searched through his features and saw a conflicted expression in the flicker of his eyes and around the curve of his mouth. "It's true I'm holding back, Kat. And I will hold back on that now," he said.

My thumb brushed his thin lips, slowly tracing the contour of his upper lip. "Why?"

His olive eyes focused on me. "I can't," he whispered, and I almost saw the anxiousness in him. "I can't be the one to open fully and end up being the only one catching feelings," his voice trailed off.

"We won't do any more of that then," I replied. My lips formed an easy smile as I shook my head, still searching his anxious eyes. "You've done a great deal to indulge my wishes. Thank you," I said, then kissed him for doing those things for my sake.

He kissed me back in return. I grew to understand that he likes things like this better. He's more himself with a little lightness around, rather than indulging those that I have.

"I'll be diligent not to lead you on," I told him. Then I reached out for his neck, finding my center again as I rested my head against him. I smelled his fresh soap, felt his cotton shirt. These sorts of details riveted me back to the present after that kinky play. "I'll be careful."