Marissa's Slut

My slut. She rolled the words around in her mouth. They had a chocolaty taste, luscious like caramel filling. They caressed her tongue and rolled off her lips when she opened her mouth to release them. She listened to the words fill her dressing room. My slut. The first time she said them out loud her voice sounded embarrassed, shy. She practiced saying them until the sound they made when they left her mouth was both provocative and sexy, sending a shiver down her spine til they whorled around her inner honeyed lips. She felt the tiny hairs on her skin stick up like bristles and she felt all powerful as if the words were as important as the person himself. The thought of a man who would do anything she desired was both terrifying and moistly exciting.

My slut. She looked in the mirror of her walk-in 'robe. She saw a slim, petite, dark haired, full lipped, full hipped, long legged, a wholly desirable creature. A woman that, if she was into women, she was almost 100% sure she would want, over and over again. She mwahed her lips at her mirrored self, laughed and slid out of the room on her new red suede 'come fuck me' shoes.

Marissa arrived at the club a little after 10.30pm. She had timed her movements perfectly. She pulled her silver Mercedes convertible neatly in front of the perfectly poised young valet. She climbed out of the car, making sure that the skirt of her short chiffon dress rode a little higher over her smooth legs. She had been tempted to wear stay ups but as she wore either stockings or pantyhose in her day job, she'd opted for naked pins. Good choice too she thought as she looked up into the eyes of the young man.

She smiled at him as she held out the car keys, dangling them from their key ring. He was still staring into her eyes when the keys dropped through his fingers and jangled onto the sidewalk, knocking him out of his daze. "I'm so sorry," he said, as he hunkered down by her feet to scoop up the runaway keys. As he rose, two things happened simultaneously -- he noticed the keyring was a zirconia-studded penis, complete with hanging balls, and that the woman in front of him was not wearing any underwear. He knew this because Marissa raised her skirt in front of her as if she was hot and was trying to cool herself off. He stayed at a level halfway up her legs, though his thighs began to hurt, his eyes closed, his nostrils flared as he took in her scent. It was all she could do not to grab his head and push his face against her wet pussy.

Instead though, she dropped the skirt hem, and said, "Room 1715. I'll be there when you take your break."

She shut the car door with a flick of her hand and walked away from him, up the stairs to the hotel, the basement of which was taken over by the night club. She didn't look back although she was desperate to. If she had, she would have been pleased -- the young man was staring up at her, concentrating on her long bare legs, his hand in his trouser pockets as he tried hard to adjust himself to a less painful position.

Marissa did a turn in the club, danced a lot for an hour or so, making contact with many but finding none to amuse her. At a little after midnight, she made her way to the hotel room which she had booked several days before on a whim. The whole evening was an experiment for her. She'd recently separated from her husband after a number of years of feeling as though she no longer mattered, that they were just going through the motions. Following the funeral of a good friend of hers who'd died just as her divorce from a brutal husband was finalising, Marissa had decided it was time for Tom and her to be honest with each other. Marissa's Tom was no wife beater but, almost as bad (in her eyes), he'd stopped paying attention to her, no longer involved her in discussions about his business, had taken to staying late at work, and meeting up with his mates much more than he'd ever done before. The final straw had been when he decided to go on holiday without her, 'just to have a complete break' was how he explained it to her. If there wasn't a woman involved, she'd thought, there soon would be, and then and there she'd packed her bags and left. Tom had been shocked and several months later he still asked her why. She'd explained over and over but he didn't understand that exclusion was not part of the marriage deal. He called it 'boy stuff', she called it macho bullshit. She'd now reached a point where she didn't want to discuss it any further. It was boring her. She'd spent several months working hard, keeping the pain at bay some of the time. Finally she had begun to feel like she wanted to re-engage with the world beyond work. She still struggled with being alone but events two weeks before had altered that and made her consider other possibilities.

At the end of a very busy week in her solicitors' firm, of which she was a director, a number of the staff had decided to have a kind of celebration -- a particularly difficult court case had finally ended with one of their barristers being victorious. She didn't really like the man, finding his arrogance a complete turn off. That night at the Moon Demon club (a club that celebrated the feminine) he'd told her he found her desirable and had wanted her for a long time. Suddenly she realised that arrogance could be a turn on. At least for one night. She'd taken him home and fucked him until he could barely walk when he left early the next morning. She had after all not had sex for months, since long before her separation. She felt that being horny was as good an excuse as any for squashing the inner voice that told her she'd be sorry. It might not have been a good idea, sleeping with someone attached to the firm, but after a couple of margaritas she really didn't care. If the barrister had been attracted to her before, he was almost beside himself now but he was married and she was glad. She didn't want him again. Now she was ready to make a different kind of move.

The same evening in the club, she had noticed a very attractive young man, whose rather innocent looks had been like a magnet for her. His dance style, seemingly trance-like, and his aesthetic good looks had generated a sexual energy within her that was very out of keeping for her. She watched his body moving to a rhythm deep within the music and felt a strong desire for him. With hesitant steps, she had moved further away from her friends until she was standing in front of him. She didn't touch him or speak to him, but only a few seconds passed before his eyes opened and she found herself gazing into such dark eyes and with such an intensity that she felt a sense almost of vertigo. Even though she knew the lights and the shadows of the club were causing his eyes to seem like fathomless pools, she found herself wanting to dive in. Just as she began to feel she couldn't look any longer, he dropped his gaze and seemed to trace her body with his eyes. She saw herself as she thought he must see her - a woman, older than himself, with short cropped blonde-white hair, wearing a pinstripe suit; formidable looking. Her heart began to beat faster and she mentally undressed herself. If he touched her thighs through her business-like skirt he would feel suspender straps and the tops of her stockings; if he unbuttoned her shirt, he would see a lacy bra through which her nipples poked. She felt her legs trembling on her 4 inch heeled black patent leather pumps. Her work colleagues called these her mistress shoes. They had had to explain to her what they meant. She'd loved wearing them before; with the explanation she'd fallen in love with them all over again and sometimes thoughts of dominating the men she worked with would crowd her mind until she forcefully pushed such appealing thoughts away.

As she continued to undress herself, images of her and the young man filled her head. She saw his eyes widen as though he was privy to those images. Despite all the dancers around them, it felt as though the space she and the young man filled was like a capsule. No-one walked between them, no-one bumped them. It was quite surreal, she thought afterwards.

Something about his slightly loose mouth as he gazed at her shoes told her that this young man had a submissive nature. Perhaps it was this fairly certain knowledge that he wanted to be dominated that made her step up to him, lean forward and whisper in his ear, "Be my slut." The next morning she cringed and grimaced as she repeated those words out loud, feeling embarrassed to the point of blushing. But the young man raised his head and looking her fully in the eyes again, he nodded. She had left him then, returned to her table, collected her purse and walked back to him. In view of her colleagues, she pulled a card out and gave it to him. She spoke a few words to him and then left again, this time collecting the barrister on her way out.

She and Antonio had spoken many times over the next two weeks. He had taken no time at all to admit that he thought about her and what she'd said often. His cock hardened at the thought of doing whatever she wanted, he had spent so long looking for a mistress. She didn't know much about him but felt she didn't need to. All she wanted was to hear his voice at the end of the phone and hear his gentle accented voice as he told her that he wanked to her image in his head. At night, she would lie in bed and he would call her and tell her what he wanted her to do and what he would do to her in return. She came every night though whether he called or not, imagining her spanking him, seeing him handcuffed and forced to eat her. And she slept better than she'd slept in a long time.

Now, she stepped into the hotel room. She'd been there earlier in the afternoon and laid out her costume for the night and some rather useful tools of pleasure. She and Antonio had not seen each other since that first night and she was more than ready for him. She ran a shower, stripped her dress and sandals off and climbed in. She was careful not to wet her hair, but lathered up and rinsed off over and over again under the waterfall that fell about her. In fact, she found herself wishing it was a waterfall and that she was naked and in full view of other people. She ran her hands up and down her body, feeling the fullness of her breasts, tweaking her nipples, stroking her neck, the inside of her thighs. Gradually she came to and thought about getting ready. A part of her wanted him to walk in on her naked and wet but another part of her knew that the design of the evening was very important.

With a little sigh, she turned off the water, dried herself off with a very thick towel, and began to dress herself. Black underwear, lacy and delicate, sheer black hold ups with a seam running down the back, a new grey pin stripe skirt and jacket, a black shirt, buttoned up to the neck. She added a tie which she would never normally wear. She slipped on her black high heeled courts and leant forward over the basin to apply her make up. Just mascara, red lips, a little grey kohl to open the eyes. She walked into the bedroom and stood in front of the full length mirror in the wardrobe. Nice, she thought. She felt a tremor of excitement run through her and her pussy began to tingle. She slipped her hand under her skirt and cupped her pussy mound. So hot. She considered slipping one finger in just to make sure she was good and wet. A knock on the door stopped her.

Marissa looked again at herself, then around the room. She drew in a deep breath as she walked quietly over the soft carpet to the door. Peeking through the eyehole, she saw Antonio. He was still dressed in his valet outfit. He stood quietly, expectantly. Just as she went to open the door, she saw him rub his hand over his crotch as if to calm his cock down, to make it lie flat. Marissa smiled.

She opened the door. He seemed to straighten more. He didn't smile but he brought from behind his back a bunch of flowers. She pushed the door wider and stepped back. He walked past her and turned to her. She took the flowers from him and walked into the bathroom. She wanted to make a fuss about them, say thank you, but her tongue had cleaved to her upper mouth. She was almost afraid to speak now, because the deal was dominance and submissiveness and if she said thank you would the spell be broken? No, better leave it till later, she thought filling the basin with water. After settling the flowers in the water, she went back to him.

He was looking at the bed and its paraphernalia. 'Take your clothes off, leave your jocks on," Marissa ordered.

Dumbly, he obeyed, not looking at her. God, his body. Beautiful she thought. Face and body of a young god. She put her hands on his shoulders and turned him around to face her. She put her fingers on either side of his underpants and pulled them down a little way. He sighed. She reached onto the bed and picked up a leather cage. She knelt in front of him, his cock rigid in her face. She stood up again. "Your cock has to be flaccid. Make it go down."

He looked startled but did as he was told. He walked away from her and stood looking out of the window to the bright lights beyond. When he turned back, his cock was soft. She wondered what he'd been thinking about. He walked back to her and she knelt again. She captured his cock in the cage and pressed the studs closed around it. Immediately it began to get hard again and he said "Ummmm, that's pretty tight."

"It's meant to be. Put your arms behind you."

He did so and she clasped them both together with a soft silk tie, testing and making sure he couldn't free himself.

She stepped back and looked at him. His eyes lingered on her face. He was watching her carefully. His mouth puckered slightly and she leant forward to touch his lips with her fingers. "Kiss me," he whispered.

A charge rushed through her. Marissa stepped in closer and, feeling his cock cage against her clothing, she slipped her hands around him, cupping his butt cheeks, as she pressed her lips against his. His mouth opened in another sigh and her tongue gently pushed in to find his. Their tongues entwined and the kisses became harder and she felt her pussy begin to gush. No, no, not yet, she thought but she was more turned on now than she had been for years. She felt for a moment that she didn't need sex if she could just have him with her like this. It was nearly enough.

She pushed herself back from him, leaving his mouth seeking hers. His closed eyes flew open. He went to speak, but she put a finger over his mouth, sealing the words in. She turned him around and gently pushed him onto the bed. He wriggled his way up it so that only his feet hung off the bed. Using another silk tie she bound his ankles together. She lifted a leather flogger off the bed and draping its strands along his skin, she gently tickled him with it. He didn't move. She lifted the flogger above her head and brought it down on his backside. He flinched but didn't cry out. She brought it down again and again, criss-crossing his arse with fine red lines. At one point she stopped and putting the flogger down, she reached down for a small bag out of which she pulled a purple butt plug and a tube of lube. She squeezed some lube on to her hand and then rubbed it over his crack. His legs spread a little and he raised his bottom slightly. She slid a finger inside him and he moaned quietly. She put the head of the plug against his hole and slowly pushed it inside him. He moaned again but still didn't speak. He seemed to lift his butt higher to receive the plug more easily, more willingly. She thought of his trapped cock and wondered if it was hurting him. She picked up the flogger again and continued to cover his bottom with red lines until they seemed to merge together and his flesh looked like it was on fire. She was amazed at his resilience. Her arm was aching but he made no sound.

Marissa slipped out of her skirt. She pulled on a leather harness, fastening it around her hips. She pulled the butt plug out of his arse, watching as the hole stayed open, like a mouth or a small wound. She attached a latex cock to her harness. Once she was ready, she stepped around to the side of the bed. "Antonio, look at me."

He opened his eyes and lifted his head to see her better. His eyes fixed on her cock. "No, I don't want that," he said and began to wriggle away.

"You have no choice. You are my slut. I want it and that's all that matters." She nearly laughed at her temerity. "Get off the bed and walk over to the desk."

He somehow pushed and pulled his way off the bed to stand on very shaky legs. He half hopped, half minced to the desk by the window. He stood there looking at her. She could tell he wasn't sure whether to be worried about the pain or concerned about her emasculating him. Oh yes, she thought, you don't want cock but you can't keep your eyes of it and off me. I am so going to fuck your tight arse. She felt those words in her core and now she said them out loud. "I'm going to fuck your tight arse, Antonio. You want it and you are going to get it." She watched his nipples harden. She imagined his arse opening up again to her. She wondered if an excited sphincter could produce its own juice. Just to be sure though, she squeezed more lube onto her hand and watching his face, she began to rub her cock, imagining it getting harder, imagining it sliding into his arse. At the same time, unbidden, an image of his cock in her arse came into her mind and she had to squeeze her pelvic muscles to stop her juices dribbling down her legs.

She sauntered over to him, hand still on her cock. "I'm going to take your cock cage off. Don't want you hurting yourself, do we?" She undid the cage and slid it off him. She ran her hand gently over squashed and bent flesh, feeling it begin to thicken in her hand. She stepped back from him. "Bend over the desk," she ordered.

Again he protested. "No, I don't do cock."

"You will do as I say. Bend over. If you don't, I will get very angry and, to be honest, you don't want to see me when I'm angry."

Antonio looked over at the door of the room, looked back to the window, looked at the bed, looked everywhere but at her. He tried sliding one of his feet out of the silk tie but it was much stronger than he realised and he couldn't move his ankle an inch.

Marissa watched him, a little smile on her lips. "Like I said, bend over. Why try to go against me? You will only make it worse for yourself." He turned his black eyes to her again and this time she saw the smile in them. His lips said no, but his eyes, oh his eyes said yes. They said yes, fuck me hard and fuck me long. If her cock was real she knew it would have twitched then. Silently he turned back to the desk, bent over it and slightly spread his thighs. As I thought, such an easy slut, she laughed inside. She stepped up to him, bent down and licked his arse cheeks. He sighed and spread himself further over the desk. She was glad she had her heels on - they gave her the necessary height to reach his bottom with her cock, to slide her latex self slowly, gently inside him. He took her all the way in, right up to her harness and she was able to rub her legs against his. She slid in and out of him, slowly, slowly, not wanting to hurt him but wanting him used to her quickly. He gradually began to pump against her in time to her rhythm and she felt him beginning to quicken the pace. His breathing became heavier and quicker, and she felt his legs begin to shake. She wanted him so much. And she wanted him to come with her inside him. She wondered if he would be able to. Would a heterosexual man get off that much on being fucked up the arse? Before she could say anything, she felt his whole body tense and he pushed himself back against her. He groaned and then cried out, as his climax exploded out of him and spilled onto the wooden desk, pooling beneath his stomach.