Claiming Raven

That and she was panting, oh, and her eyes were a little dulled...I fancied, with lust. The woman felt it, the need and that I could satisfy it. I knew I could. I felt it when I was inside her, the full-throated need in her as she keened past her teeth, torn by the feeling of me inside her, claiming her and the very public venue where I was taking her, not the usual approach. Surely she was thinking maybe I wasn't all that vanilla wafer after all.

"You warned him...what you were going to do, didn't you?" She spoke, her voice was low, controlled.

I couldn't help it, I grinned and nodded. I moved to stand behind her.

"Fucker. God, you know what an exhibitionist I am! And you do that? Not even an hour after you touch me the first time? Fucker. I'll never get over you."

I found the tab of the zipper on the back of her fitted dress and drew it slowly down her back.

"Do you want to, Raven? Get over me? Already."

"Fucker. No. God no. God, not now."

"That's enough, Raven." I spoke softly. She tended to say "fucker" when you surprised her and unsettled her usual black and white view of the world. It was more like an admission that you'd touched her and that you'd found a chink in her considerable armor. I'd stripped her of her armor almost from the beginning, I thought, and that made me proud. She'd let me in that distant beginning of us, let me touch her, strip away that armor and fell panting to her knees when I was done, vulnerable and aroused, so very turned on, so hooked into what I did to her with just my words, that she could no more walk away smiling (her words) than I could and I had no wish to.

The sound of the zipper on her dress seemed to fill the room around us. I felt Raven hold her breath. Only when I stopped did she exhale, a suspiration that sounded ragged and strained. She tried to turn but I caught her by the shoulder and held her, facing the bed, away from me, the place where in due time I would fuck her.

"Don't. Move." I spoke the words like two separate things. She froze. I felt that cool satisfaction from speaking and feeling my words become real, right there in the room. I knew she wanted that, words spoken to match her desire, that submissive desire to serve, to obey...and that meant she could trust, for trust was fully at the core of it all. All pleasure starts with trust.

She didn't quite go limp but when I pushed the shoulders of the dress down her arms, I had to move each arm to get the sleeves down to her wrist. It was fitted so clung to her sides and hips. I pushed it off her waist and it dropped down her legs, leaving her standing in bra, garters and stockings in the light of the atrium. Anyone walking by who cared to could peer into the room and see her standing there.

The erotic appeal of her standing there and the full knowledge that she'd knelt before me meant I could do whatever I wanted to her...note that she knew all about the sorts of things I "wanted". That didn't include anything that did not fit with her, they all would match her desires and wants...the plethora of words we'd exchanged had validated and defined that to both our satisfactions, so that surrendering to me and to my will was a fine and erotic satisfaction for her, clearly understood and safely accepted. Submitting to me was not dangerous. Surrendering to me to do whatever I wanted was not a jump into dark water, it was a refreshing dive into a private pool, one she'd designed and filled herself. What I wanted, matched her very clearly.

I hesitated. I love that picture of her, standing there quiescent, her body available to me to use as I wanted, dressed only in bra, garter belt and stockings. My cock wanted another go at her cunt, truth be told, but cocks are notoriously short sighted...with just the one eye who can blame them? I had an alternative in mind that meant I had to strip her naked. There's this "naked woman, fully clothed man" cliché in the ds world, or so I understand, and she'd talked about how much she liked it so...voila, there it is...my reason for not fucking her with her garters on...we could do that another time.

Also, and well, okay this might be a better explanation, my Raven fancies herself a world-class cocksucker and I mean that in the very best sense...not the pejorative. I intended, very consciously, if the kiss did its due diligence properly, and it had I was certain, to give her that little taste of the ds experience, even though it was alien to vanilla wafer me. So I removed her bra.

Raven was...slack...that's the word, she stood before me slack, letting me move her as I wished. I unhooked her bra and then shuffled it down her arms and off. She let it drop at her feet. She still wore her low heels. I knelt behind her and pecked at her ass, kissing her in passing. That made her waver and shudder. Now I've undressed my share of females and usually it was a communal thing with the implicit rush to get to the main event, tab A in slot B. This wasn't that. It had none of the vanilla wafer element of getting naked together. It was strictly ds in my mind and, I hoped, in hers. We were stripping Raven. Her silence suggested that she was there, in her submissive mode or mood...but that is wrong. She was submitting to me, waiting to see what I'd do but without the implicit judgment that usually carries with it. She was submitting to me, to my pleasure and that was her pleasure, her need, her thrill. I could do whatever I wanted with her and I wanted her mad with pleasure.

I ran a finger under the garter strap, so against the skin of her thigh, up and down a couple of times before I released it from the black stocking. I repeated this on the other five straps on her right leg and then again on her left leg. Her stockings remained on her legs, not sprung or stretched or sagging, so likely new and still tight. I peeled them down, one then the other, down her legs, with my hands inside the stretch fabric, tight on her skin. I removed her shoe and the stocking and her legs were bare, right and then left. My hands tingled with the feel of her under them, the rich feel of her utter compliance, her body anticipating what I wanted from her as best she could, which for an intelligent woman like Raven was pretty good.

That left her clad in just the garter belt, now trailing the loosed straps about her hips like dreadlocks. I rose up, my hands on her waist and hesitated. I liked the idea of having her while still wearing something but then remembered, nude woman, clothed man. That was the cliché...I'd fuck the cliché later. When you fuck a cliché, it's always surprising, at least to the cliché anyway. I enjoyed twisting a cliché up into something new and surprising, when I could manage it.

I unhooked the garter belt and tossed it to the left, discarding it. Raven stood before me, naked. I reached around her with one hand and cupped her cunt. She groaned, her voice trilling in her throat. With my other hand, the left, I pinched one nipple and then the other, very hard, as hard as I dared. She told me she was a pain slut, a masochist but that was so far outside my realm of experience, my understanding was fully academic...not useless but not to be presumed to be complete in any important way. She wriggled her hips, trying to grind against my hard cock or pushing against my cupping hand seeking penetration, I presumed. This I refused her, not in words but with deeds, in our little reality.

Sweat broke out on my brow and I realized the air was not on in the room and it was very close. I released her. Raven keened but made no move at all. Very carefully I removed her glasses and lay them on the desk. She was fully naked now. I stepped to the entrance, located the light switch and turned it on. The naked woman flinched like a vampire in a tanning bed. I looked around and found the central air control, walked to it and turned it way down do it'd roar to life immediately. I was not disappointed.

Raven stood in the light in full view from the outside through the open shades, naked, her hands at her sides, utterly unmoving. I walked back to the door and shut off the light so we were left in the wash of illumination from outside. I moved to her side. Her head bowed a little, letting some of her straw blond hair droop over her face. I wanted to make her look at me, to get her eyes and own them first, to grab that attention and make her mine in that way first but when I had her on her back, I'd have that. I needed to earn it and I earned it by giving her the things she wanted, if I could, if I knew her deeply and well.

I didn't touch her. I gazed at her erect body, the puffed swell of her breasts capped by her nipples now clearly and obviously erect. I just stood there, silent while the cool air fluttered around us. I didn't speak until she shivered a little, the condenser of the air conditioning system had matured and the air was frigid now.

"Kneel." I said. Raven bent a knee but I caught her elbow. She stopped, letting my hand countermand my word. "In a moment." I whispered. I pulled at her elbow, turning her so she faced me. I truly don't know if I made even the smallest motion to draw her into my embrace but she came to me, enveloping me. Her hands ran up the front of my shirt, over my chest and around my neck and she pressed her crotch onto my thigh. I kissed her and she kissed me.

Had there been any confusion about the initial kiss (there was none, not for me and I detected none in Raven), this kiss vanquished it. Her mouth opened, her tongue sought mine, even as I did the same. Her hips ground her crotch against my thigh, and her hands hooked at my neck. I felt the turgid points of her nipples through my shirt poking me. My hands clung to her sides, then her back, then one cupped her ass and the other grasped the back of her neck through her hair.

We kissed.

I was hard at the start so her hip bone contacted me and pressed against me. When the kiss stopped...it didn't end, we just stopped it, she tipped her head back a little, her eyes lolling half closed.

"Oh Clark, I have dreamed of this, like this, so often...I told you I loved this."

"The naked woman, clothed man thing?" I asked. I knew, I just asked so she'd have to answer. She didn't, she just nodded.

"Words, Raven." I whispered.

"Oh, oh yes. I love this feeling, being naked, my body against your clothes, against your body, covered. It reduces me, lets me breathe empty."

I smiled. Our ability to shift in and out of the submissive, dominant context pleased me. It spoke well of us. It also meant I could shift us back.

"Kneel. You need to prove to me what you have said so often. My cock should be in your mouth."

I felt her stiffen and then relax, almost completely. She sagged a little and vanished, the woman I'd been talking to slipped down below the cool waters of submission and disappeared into the pool of pleasure it was for her. That woman slithered away from me, descending, her fingers trailing lightly down my body until she knelt before me.

"Yes, Sir." Raven whispered as she came to rest on her knees, her bare feet under her ass, sitting on her heels. She reached up to my pants, hesitated and looked up at me, her eyes askance.

"Yes, Raven, take out my cock, please." I said. Her hand pressed against the arch of my cock in my khakis. It felt hot against me and good, the thrill of it ran through me. She rubbed her palm up and down a few times then grasped me through the cloth while her other hand found the tab on the zipper of my pants. Her lips curled in a little smile and she slowly drew down the tab on my zipper, making each tooth of the movement rattle against me as it moved down.

She stared up at me.

I stared down at her.

Her pause went on long enough that I realized it was my line, like I'd gone mind blind on stage and needed cued from the wings. I realized she was prompting me, asking implicitly for each command so she could take joy in doing as she was told. Before you poo poo surrendering your will to someone like that, try it once, just once and see if you can't feel the lure of it. Religious people of nearly any stripe of any actual conviction can tell you if they would...but they never would, how good simple obedience feels. For some religions, the love of submission is difficult, it should hurt, be a struggle, drain the will by reducing one's ability to refuse or resist. This, what Raven offered me, it wasn't that. This was a deep need and her actual and present pleading that I fill the need, filling it with soft commands that I knew fit her, fit her thrill, fit her will, and fit her still, even now, naked and surely mine as I wanted her to be. My simple job was to give her what she wanted, what she needed from me.

"Take out my cock, Raven." I whispered. My own voice sounded alien.

"Yes, Sir." She whispered. Her hand pushed aside the flap of my trousers and touched the hot length of my cock through my briefs. She fussed there for a moment until she found the seam in them and opened them. Her fingers touched my skin and I swear I jumped a mile. A virgin would have spat cum at her, it felt like that. The first moment when her fingers touched me, when they found the tender skin of my cock and her dark blue fingernails jabbed gently at me before she canted her hand and it was her fingers that wrapped around me and drew me out into the open.

Raven rose up on her knees, bending my cock down almost to her lips but she stopped. For a moment her eyes fixed on the end of my cock, still damp from having been inside her. Then, as if exerting a gargantuan act of will, she pulled her eyes off of my cock and looked up at me, tipping her head back to make sure I noticed, that I knew she was waiting for the next command.

Getting commands right is an art...and a science. You can't command an abstract, like "be sexy"...or "satisfy me"...it requires very specific and very objective information to satisfy the submissive's need and to get what you think you want. "Do what I want" is not a command, it is idiocy because no sub will ever be able to read the mind of her dom. For that matter, no dom can read the mind of his sub, either. Hence, words are a huge benefit and using them well, often and easily in the interaction has great profit. Sensory specific information and precise directions make for a much better result, unless you happen to find a person who can actually read your mind. I'm not mocking, some rare couples are so well suited, so similarly wired that they match in the abstract and can get what they want with the sloppiest of communication. Everyone else, we must talk to get what we want.

"Kiss my cock." I husked. I felt excited, this woman held my cock in her hand and was waiting on me to describe the perfect blowjob...and she'd do it. She knew that I couldn't ask for something she couldn't or wouldn't do. Think about that guys, can you ask for the perfect blowjob? Or is it like porn, you just know it when you see it? Feel it, I mean, feel it. See why I'd done what it took to be here with Raven? All I had to do was articulate what I wanted and she'd do it.

"Lick my cock." I whispered. Being a writer gives me all sorts of advantages and one of them is that I know how to put things into words, how to get them right so that if the other person, Raven in this case, is listening even a little bit...and has the will to give me what I want...I can get what I want. And that, fellow wafers, is why guys like me end up wandering into the dark confines of BDSM or the dom/sub culture, to see if we can describe the perfect blow job or create ecstasy in the woman we own.

Raven kept her eyes on me and then slowly extended her tongue and touched it to the tip of my cock. I'd been inside her, fucked her, but she didn't care. She'd told me that wouldn't matter to her, even hinting that being commanded to do so would excite her in that canted, oblique way that makes ds seem...logical, maybe even normal. Ds is logical only if many other options have been rejected...at least one of them has real existential profundity.

Her tongue moved around the head of my cock, pressing at it with her tongue, then twisting her tongue as it circled me. I groaned, my body responding with shimmering sensations that rippled under the skin and then dove deep down into me, in search of my soul. Her tongue halted underneath the head of my cock, fairly cupping it. She leaned in a little so more of her tongue extended down the length of my cock. I could feel the puff, puff, puff of her breath on my skin. She was panting, open mouthed, with my cock now between her lips, though they didn't touch me. Her tongue wriggled under my cock, her hand held it firm. She went still again.

"Oh fuck a duck," I murmured. I moved a hand to the back of her head. "Suck me, Raven. Suck my cock!" I pushed gently on the back of her head, then remembered what she'd told me. I knotted my fist in her hair and thrust forward with my hips. Her hand left my cock and I pushed her head forward...my cock slid deep into her mouth.

I felt her gag. Wafer etiquette says that gagging means stop what you're doing and let the poor woman recover, let her regain composure. Ds etiquette, Raven etiquette most importantly, so not ds really, this only works if my Raven loves it and she loves it...says don't stop, push your cock into her throat, make her fight for breath, make her master the gag and choke reflexes, let her drool and grunt and don't let her stop, don't let her relax. That's the Raven rules. Fuck her face. Fuck her throat. I felt the tight entrance to her throat, felt her struggle to accommodate my cock. I pushed it harder into her mouth.

Her hands clutched at my legs, steadying herself as she rose on her knees and adjusted the angle, tilting her head, rising and settling to let my cock pierce her throat. I felt the little pop as I pushed past the back of her mouth and then the tight constriction around the head of my cock that increased as she gagged. She fought me. I held her firm. She keened, drooling, but her hand clung to me, as if for support. I held her firmly against me, her face against my body, my khakis with the open zipper. She twisted, struggled then found some accommodation with the cock in her mouth. I felt it, the sudden relaxation and all the tension lessened. Her hands began to run up and down my legs and then came the final surrender. She pushed her face against me harder.

I doubt I had even an inch left to push into her mouth but she tilted and found some small length to take, to demand, to swallow. She swallowed. The tension kinked around my cock.

"Oh god." I groaned. "Oh my lovely fuck toy, Raven!" I added. She hummed then, approval without syllables but unmistakable. "Suck my cock, slut." I muttered. "Your cunt is my cunt and I'm going to fuck your cunt, use you, take you, make you mine!" I felt her response as a lurid inhalation like she was trying to suck me down into her chest. Then she sucked and all along on my cock, she tensed and tightened and constricted down on me. I groaned again. My left hand turned out so my knuckles lay against her cheek. I felt her sucking on me, her face tensing and relaxing as she sent those luscious sensations through my cock into my body.

Raven hummed and moaned, making sounds as she pushed against the cock in her mouth, filling her mouth, plugging her throat. I pulled on her hair but she resisted, heedless of her need for air. It's a mistake to think that it is all the love of a cock in her mouth...though my woman does love to suck cock. For my lovely girl, it includes the submission, the thrill of being held against my body, my cock thrust into her mouth, even against her autonomic need to breathe. If she had her mouth pressed to a wall or a flag pole, it would only be part of it because the other aspect is the flood of pleasure she senses in me, when her mouth has enveloped me and she is running low on oxygen. She relies on me to pull her off my cock to force her to release it, to make her breathe, to impose my will on her when left to her own devices, she'd do something against her own best interest. All of this I had yet to learn about her. It was new to me, having a woman so enthusiastically sucking my cock. She'd told me how much she loved to suck cock but the reality of it was...impressively beyond my imagination.