Squatter's Rights 02: Consummation

"Please post more," y'all said. And so I must obey.

This is Part 2 of a two-part story. Part 1 was a response to a challenge, almost a dare, I saw on the forum: write a story featuring a kink that is not one of your own. Still, I found Part 1 deeply erotic and intimate. Part 2 is much more me. The title comes from a line she delivers near the end of the story and is not at all bathroom-related (that's just not for me).

This is, of course, fantasy. It's not how things would happen safely in reality. This story features femdom themes, as will all of my future stories. If that's not your thing, it might be better to move on. But please consider following if you enjoy it! Oh, and no AI. Ever. If someone can't be bothered to write it, they shouldn't ask you to read it. And I would never.

The room was warm. The carpet plush. He remained on the floor, at the foot of her bed in Child's Pose, face toward the ground and the small item of clothing there. Though it had been fifteen minutes or more, he had yet to look around. The ambient party sounds had died with each passing minute and a muffled quiet had settled over the house and room.

He wanted to look around. To learn more about her from his surroundings, from her bedroom. But that curiosity could not overcome his need to please her. She had been clear about what she wanted: him breathing her in and nothing else. He would obey. He wanted to obey.

And so he continued to breathe deeply, his nose and mouth a sliver away from her moist silk panties. She had been explicit. He would not touch, he would not taste. But fuck, he was desperate to taste the juices glistening on her silk. He resisted the urge, the need, but he also got as close as humanly possible.

Every so often, his cock would throb and a dollop of precum would leak strands onto the carpet. She had undressed him piecemeal in her bathroom. She had laid him bare. Then she had led him by his cock to this vulnerable, exposed position.

After a time--he was unsure precisely how long and, wanting this moment to stretch to an eternity, he couldn't bring himself to care--the soft whisper of nylon whisked toward him over the luxuriously thick carpet, and then paused. He sensed her towering over and behind him. She didn't say anything and so he continued to breathe, to obey.

After several moments, he felt a nylon clad toe again pressing on his rosebud: "My, my. You really are a good boy. I don't believe you've moved at all." She gently prodded, as she had earlier.

"You know, I was quite certain the night would go like this. As I've said, I planned it," she gently wiggled her toe back and forth, pressing on his hole as she spoke down to him.

"For the last year or so I've noticed your submissive tendencies. Your 'Yes ma'ams.' The way you seem to prefer to look up at me from your seat rather than rising to meet me--and that despite your otherwise unfailing courtesy. The way you'd cast your eyes down before me. Those were the first clues," the toe pressed more firmly still, claiming a toehold in his ring of defense. "Relax for me," she whispered, an aside meant as an order.

He adjusted and tried to settle, he let her words wash over him as he inhaled her sex, still strong in his lungs. The toe slid a little deeper, though not quite in.

"But you didn't just cast your eyes down in my presence. Because there were also times when I caught you looking at my stockings, my pantyhose, my nylons, my boots, and my high heels. Oh, I think you like my heels," she emphasized this with a little movement of her toe and he moaned in agreement to both her words and her probing digit.

"As a scientifically-minded woman, I tested my hypothesis about your submissive nature. I asked you--firmly and without a 'please' so you'd not confuse my order with a request--to clean my tea mug. Do you remember?"

He did. It had been just the two of them. She'd stopped by his office and asked him questions about a spreadsheet. She stood behind and over his shoulder and he felt her presence behind him--the gravity of her pressing on his chest, constructing his very breath. He'd answered her spreadsheet questions to her satisfaction and then she had said it, "Good, now take my mug to the kitchen and clean it."

Her voice had taken on a different tone then when they'd been discussing numbers. Firmer. Quieter. Throatier. It had thrilled him and he'd complied without question or hesitation.

He nodded his recall.

Her toe continued to massage his ring and the anticipation was beginning to make him rock back toward her almost imperceptibly.

"And what did you say when I asked?"

He pressed back slightly as he answered, "Yes, ma'am."

"Yes, ma'am!," she exclaimed. "And now, I no longer have to ask. I simply hand you the mug and you do your duty. And so I knew. And I planned. Because I think you would do a lot more for me. I think you want to do more for me."

Her toe reached deeper still, but did not yet fully breach him.

And then she stopped.

"Now, tell me, and be honest, what do you want?" she asked, holding perfectly still, "Your life, our future, everything depends on your honesty here."

Neither moved.

He understood. Without knowing why, he understood that his happiness hung on this moment--on being honest now in a way he had never been honest with anyone. Ever. Did he dare speak his deepest desires? To say aloud what he'd never even written, never shared in any way?

He breathed deeply to summon his courage, tasting her on the air.

He answered clearly, "I want to be yours. I want to serve and satisfy and obey you."

"Yes," she replied, "I want that too. We begin tonight. We will be open and honest--always--about everything. Most importantly, about our boundaries and limits. That is our north star, and it will guide us into a pleasurable future."

She slipped her toe from him and began to pace around him as he went back to inhaling her panties. Her stride was less walk and more graceful, predatory prowl. He felt the shift as she surveyed him.

Her tone shifted as well, from a caring, loving caress to a hungry growl. She squatted down, gripping his hair in her fist and hungrily explained, "This evening, your mouth will be doing a lot of work. Your mouth is your primary sex organ for tonight, perhaps forever. Do you understand?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Very good. Roll over and lie flat," she ordered, releasing his hair and standing to her full height.

He complied and before he had settled, she was standing astride his head.

His breath caught at the view. He gazed up at a goddess. Her long legs were covered in nude nylon stockings, they met at a lush, hairy slit that was swollen and glistening with need. She'd shed her skirt and shirt and her breasts, perfect handfuls, were cupped by a white silk bra that matched the panties he had memorized. She towered above him.

"Open your mouth."

He did as she instructed.

"Let's see when you can do," she said, lifting her foot above his face. "This is not the foot I was just teasing you with," she said as the foot slid into his mouth. "We are testing some of your physical limits now, so I'm not interested in you kissing or licking. I want you to gag on my foot like it's one of the strapons I have in the other room."

She slipped her nylon clad foot into his mouth slowly. Relentlessly. Her toes pressed deep into his mouth, his throat, until he was full and gagged on her. Still she didn't let up. Her toes pressed his tongue down and then she slid back out, and then in again. Back, and forth again.

"Take it," her voice was hungrier. He didn't know how much of her he was taking, but his mouth was full and stretched. She thrummed with power and need. She fucked his mouth with her foot. "Look at your little slut mouth taking me." His eyes rolled and he moaned, then she slid deeper and he gagged. Spit covered her foot. "Oh fuck, yes!"

She eased off, slowly fucking his mouth but less deeply, "Worship my foot with your mouth. All of it." After slowly foot fucking his mouth for another few thrusts, she pulled out. She placed her heel on his open mouth, "lick" she said, and slowly dragged her foot from heel to toe across his tongue. He bathed her sole.

"I've pictured this and planned for so long, but everything after I shut the party down and locked up was always more nebulous, unknown."

She removed herself from his mouth and placed her feet on either side of his head so that he gazed up at her sex as she talked down to him.

"Not that I didn't think about this part of the plan, I did. It's just that I always ended up fucking myself silly," she said, now rubbing her clit, which he could see standing at attention, even from that distance. She flicked her fingers rapidly as she talked.

"Open," she ordered. He did. His mouth stayed open as she stroked herself.

"I would come so hard thinking about making you mine that I could never choose amongst the infinite possibilities for our pleasure, well, for my pleasure," she gasped and a little juice flowed. She paused and looked down, taking aim. A droplet of her cum fell on to his cheek.

"Missed. Too bad, but you'll taste me soon enough." She stepped so her feet were on either side of his chest, under his armpits.

She then knelt astride his body and lowered his slick slit over his cock, which lay hard on his flat stomach. Her lips slid to either side of his shaft and she rocked up his torso. He wasn't inside her, she was essentially jerking him off with her pussy. But only briefly. For a moment. She dropped one hand next to his head and came face to face with him. Her on all fours, him lying on the carpet looking up at her and silently willing her to do more.

She cocked her head as if reading his mind and trying to decide how to use him next. Slowly she dragged her nails up his flank and to his neck. Her fingers encircled his throat, gently at first, but building pressure. Nothing painful, just enough to send the clear message that she was in charge.

"Open," she said for the third time and his mouth snapped open. She stared into his eyes and brought her mouth closer to his, not breaking eye contact or lessening her grip on his throat. She let a dollop of salvia roll down her tongue. She kept it there and slid her hand up to his face, squeezing so his mouth was forced to remain open. She rubbed and scratched a little with her long nails as the dollop hung for another moment before falling.

This time, her aim was true. The dollop landed on his tongue.

Fuck. Had he really just let that happen? And why was it so fucking hot? His cock throbbed. He wanted her to do more. To use him more. She still held his mouth open, watching him rolling her spit around in his open hole. She relaxed her grip slightly, as if giving him permission to speak.

He did. "Thank you for feeding me," he said. He was terrified to say it, so slutty and wrong. She might hate him.

His vulnerability was rewarded. A knowing smile lit her face and eyes, "oh, does my little slut like that?" she asked in a mocking, lustful tone. She shifted the hand on his throat down slightly, more to his chest so it could take her full wait. Her other hand disappeared between their bodies, between her legs. She brushed his rigid cock and bent down to lick his face. And then she kissed him. Feverishly. He understood he wasn't in charge of this kiss, so while he played, he also let her consume him. Her mouth worked over his slickly, copious saliva commingling.

All the while, her moans and grunts increased in pitch and rhythm as her hidden fingers stroked her erect clit.

She pulled back for a moment to look at him with an intensity that bordered on scary. She spit in his mouth again and dove back into it. Her mouth closed around his tongue. He pressed it out. She sucked like his tongue was a cock and his moan lit up their kiss.

Her answering moans grew louder as she continued to deliberately and sloppily wrestle his tongue with hers, gripping his throat with one hand and playing with herself with the other. Then she brought her pussy-playing hand up to his face.

"I love how willing your mouth is to be fucked by my feet, by my tongue, by my fluids. I'm going to finger fuck your mouth now," she held her fingers up for him to see. They glistened with her cum and juices.

She smiled wickedly, and paused. "No, not with fingers I just used to fuck myself," she smiled as his face fell. "You don't get to taste me yet. Smell." She slipped her fingers beneath his nose and, as he inhaled deeply, she again spit into his mouth.

He fell. Lying flat and stable on the floor, he plunged downward. Descending as she used him. Thrilling at not just the pleasure, but the entirely unrestricted nature of her ministry. There was nothing between them but need and want and hunger.

She switched hands. He felt her slick juices coat his neck and she drove two fingers into his waiting mouth. "You have such a slutty little mouth." She slipped her fingers in and out. "Suck my fingers like you want me to suck your dick," she ordered, slipping a third into his mouth. He tried, but she had him pinned. Her knees on his shoulders, hand on his neck. He lifted his head, but apparently not enough. "Tsk, tsk. We'll have to work on that. I'll just fuck your mouth hole," and she did. She pistoned her finger in and out. She dropped another dollop of spit into his mouth. Then another.

Her fingers slipped deeper. Her hand left his throat and she worked her clit furiously and just as he thought he couldn't take any more from her lithe fingers, liquid sprayed between their bodies as she came, squirting her seed all over him. She collapsed on him, her fingers resting, barely in his mouth, hooking his lip.

She rose and grabbed a small pillow, "I bought this for just this moment. I need your head at the right angle. I'm going to fuck your face properly," she said as she went about adjusting him. She slipped the pillow under his head. It was firm, memory foam, with a curved that cradled his head and tilted it toward his chest slightly.

She paused again to grab his mouth and force it open. Another dollop or her saliva fell into him. "Yes, now that your face is nice and lubricated, and now that you've sampled my nylons, my feet, my fingers, and my spit, it's time for you to taste my cum."

She stood over him, straddling his face. He again gazed up at her swollen, slippery sex. Her knees fell to either side of his head and her thighs gripped him as her moist folds enveloped his mouth and nose.

He wanted to drown in her, to die pleasuring her.

This was a particular skill of his. Girlfriends over the years had instructed him and taken more than they had given, to the point where he was reliable in providing multiple orgasms for his partners.

He was good because he listened.

He listened to her body respond to each movement of his mouth, his tongue. He listened to her breath catch. He heard her heartbeat speed up. He caught the moan she held back. He adjusted his pace and rhythm according to these signals and never changed what was clearly working. And soon, sooner than she'd have believed, he understood what she wanted.

He delivered. He brought her closer and closer. And then, simply because she could, because she was in charge, she changed it all: "suck my clit."

She adjusted to accommodate her order and he obeyed. She thrust her clit into his mouth and he sucked her, holding on as she sped up.

She fucked his mouth with her clit like she had with her fingers. And she didn't last long.

Her screams as she came were animalistic. Primal. Liquid coated his chin.

She broke the seal and rose, half standing above him and shifting up so his focus shifted to her ass.

"Shall I stop?," she asked, wiggling her ass invitingly over above, swaying like a branch in the breeze, "Or are you going to give everything to me? Are you going to empty yourself so I can fill you up as I see fit?", she asked as she ceased swaying and squatted slightly to spread herself out for his viewing pleasure.

"I'm yours," he whispered.

She again slowly lowered herself and this time, she stayed on her feet, squatting as her rosebud ring lowered onto his eager mouth.

She moaned as his tongue probed and attempted to penetrate her ring. "That's right, fuck my ass with your slutty tongue."

He thrust his tongue out and she slipped herself onto it and began to bounce. "I am your queen, you are my subject and your face is my throne. I will sit on it, ride it, fuck it. And you will take it all," she moaned in rhythm with her bouncing.

"Slip your tongue deeper into my asshole, as far as you can," as he did, she slid down and trapped his tongue. She dropped farther and his nose slipped into her pussy.

She ground herself down on his face. His tongue and face penetrated deeper. Breathing became difficult, he snatched breaths between her down- and up-thrusts. But he never left her body. He clung inside her with his inexpert appendages, refusing to relinquish ground or give in to the need to breathe. He needed only to please her, to make her cum.

She grunted and squealed now, speech beyond her. And as she reached a fever pitch, she came on the downthrust. Her muscles clenched around his tongue and spasmed as her slit sent forth a flood down his cheeks and face and onto the carpet. The spurting cum covered his face and he took in what he could however he could as her body juddered above him, like an aspen quaking in the mountain breeze.

He gasped with relief as she finally slipped off his face, red and raw with friction and exertion. He was disappointed in this involuntary reaction, for that service was one of the most beautiful moments of his life.

"We're not done," she breathed after a moment. She settled astride his stomach, his hard cock pressed into her ass crack and she found a steady rhythm sliding up and down.

After several minutes of this slow ride, she slid farther down so the folds of her sex once again enveloped his cock without taking him inside her. She slid along his length with her lips while his cock remained flat on his stomach. She splayed open her folds as she rode him so that his head rubbed her clit. She also played lightly, almost absentmindedly with her not-so-little button, and said, "if I decide to pleasure myself with your cock--my cock, really--I will be in charge."

She stopped riding, but continued to play with her erect clit. He caught on a moment later, "Yes ma'am." She began to slide again.

"I am always in control," she said, before rising up and moving down between his legs which she lifted up and back, rolling his lower back off the ground and bending him over on himself. His ass is in the air.

She grabbed his cock and gently took it in her mouth. Once. "I can taste myself. You really are a lucky slut to have such a delicious owner."

Her mouth engulfed him again. Slowly, barely moving, but making him harder. He desperately wanted to thrust into her. But he refrained. She was in charge.

"Oh, good boy! I felt that. That deep mammalian urge to thrust into a warm, wet hole. You resisted. And now you get a reward. Do you want a reward?"

"Yes ma'am."

"I'm going to fuck you," she said, slipping a silicone ring around the base of his shaft and manipulating his balls accordingly. "You are not to cum until I do. Is that understood?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"I will fuck you like this," she said, pushing his bent knees nearly back to his ears and then angling his cock down, for him, toward her pussy. "It's called the Amazon position and it puts me in charge of all the thrusting. I will be fucking you, understood?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Who is in control?"

"You."

"Who is fucking who?"

"Your'e fucking me."

"Such a good little slut. And afterward, you will clean up your mess while bringing me to a final climax for the evening. Yes?"

"Yes, ma'am."

The ring ensured his cock was rigid and dense. She adjusted his veiny member and herself so that she was poised to slide onto him with a forward roll of her hips. She paused there, pulsing forward and back, dipping just a little of him inside her. She rubbed her clit as the wetness of her folds leaked onto his cock.

Then, she thrust her hips forward, just like he would have if he were in control, just like men did when in missionary every day. But she was in control. His cock was inside her, but she was fucking him. And she fucked him like she was in charge, her skin slapping into his ass, her ass pumping her back and forth.

His cock strained to reach its natural angle, forcing his shaft upward as she slid along its length, lighting up the sensitive spot beneath her clit, which she was constantly working with her fingers. Her other hand slid up and encircled his throat. Not threateningly, not menacingly, but possessively. "Mine," it said.

"Don't you dare cum until I say," she grunted as she thrust onto him. He mewed an unintelligible response. He was close. But so was she.

She adjusted from front-to-back thrusting to bouncing up and down as well. She redoubled her clitoral ministrations and plunged into the pleasurable abyss. Her legs shook and trembled and a torrent of cum sprayed from her sex onto his cock. She shook and convulsed around him, while still thrusting sufficiently to keep him hard and inside.

She regained enough composure and balance to resituate herself and resumed fucking him. This time, with an eye toward making him spill his hot seed. He understood. He moaned with gratitude.

"Come for me, slut," she said.

He obeyed, spurting deep inside her as she fucked him. She continued to thrust into him until his spasms were spent and his body tried to go slack, his eyes closing.

She quickly slipped from him and immediately resumed her previous position squatting over his face.

His eyes opened as she plunged her sex down onto his mouth, which had just opened in the quintessential surprised, OH-face.

"Good boys clean up their mess," she explained as he greedily tongued her slippery folds.

"I stripped you down. I made you confess. I held your intimate member during your most intimate moment. I led you by the cock into this room. Laid you down. You confessed even deeper desires. Then I sat on your face--squatted on your face. This way. And that. Then I fucked you like an Amazon and, here I am, squatting on your face again as you lap our mingled cum out of my pussy. Do you know what that means?"

Limited by his desire to delve into her, he scarcely shook his head.

"All of that means one thing: Squatter's Rights. I own you now."

He sighed into the depth of her sex as her ownership washed over him.