Privileged Princess at Play

M/F, light bondage

You are a princess. Kind of a plastics princess. You don't have a care, drifting from shop to shop, just handing over your platinum card. You are wearing tailored grey pinstripe pants that sculpt your shapely bottom. Black boots with a nice raised heel. And a soft sweater that clings in all the right places, draping your womanly curves.

As the clerks ring up your purchases and fills the bags, your driver is right there. He wears a uniform of black pants, black jacket, white shirt and tie. Each time he smiles and collects all of your bags, taking them to the car as you move to the next shop. He is attentive; he stays close by. As you try on outfits and model them, you spy him in the corner of your mirror. You can discern his expressions: a slight movement in the corners of his mouth means that he likes you in the outfit. His unspoken reactions help you to make up your mind.

The clerks are friendly, you are happy, and the day flies by. Finally, there are no more stores to conquer here. You lead the way to the car, chatting at your driver as he totes the last purchases of the day. You settle into buttery leather in the back of the car. You sip cool champagne as he expertly maneuvers the long car back to your hotel.

You collect 2 small packages from the trunk, as he gathers armfuls of the rest of the shopping bags. You are all confidence and curves as you stride down the corridor, your manservant following steps behind. He stands back respectfully as you use the card key and open the door.

Inside, you set your few packages on the floor. As you rise, you take a half step back. Clumsily you step into the man, who has set his burden alongside yours.

Your first thought is that he's a very solid presence. Off-balance, he sets a hand on your hip. He makes no move to remove it. And you lean back slightly, pressing more into him.

Your heart is hammering as you feel a hand now at each hip. Your arms hang awkwardly at your sides as he slowly explores your belly. Fingers trace the outline of your breasts, large hands cup them, testing their heft. Your nipples stiffen. Eyes closed, you are immersed in enjoying his touch. Leaning into him, you feel a swollen urgency pressing at your backside. An electric signal jolts through you; your pussy begins to water.

You turn in his arms, and look up into his trusting face. Desire is aflame in his eyes; it adds to your own sensations from pouting nipples to aroused vulva. You press your mouth against his. The first kiss is a sensation. Your physical need is building.

Those skilled hands: they are at the hem of your clingy sweater. It is slowly rolled up, then lifted over your impressive breasts. He pulls away to gaze at you. You feel vulnerable: your bra showing, your sweater bunched under your throat. He smiles broadly, then pulls the sweater over your head, mussing your hair slightly.

Now his hands are at your belt. Efficient movements undo the buckle, the button of your pants, the smooth working of the quiet zipper. He works your trousers down, kneeling in the process. You hold a steadying broad shoulder as you step out of the pooled pants. He is kissing your tummy, a hand roaming your pantied bottom.

You stand in bra and panties while he is fully dressed. You shove his jacket back over his shoulders. You pull at his necktie and work it loose. A sly smile crosses your face as you fold the tie, look impishly up at him, then toss the tie to the bed. You unbutton his shirt, baring his chest.

As you fumble with his belt, he presses you away. With the same precise efficiency, he undoes his own belt and pants. He shucks his trousers and underwear down to the carpet.

His stiff rod juts out, pointing at you. It's impressive. An unbidden flash of pride further stirs your desire.

You are wearing too many clothes. You turn from him and glance over your shoulder. You watch his face as you seductively slip one strap off of your shoulder; then pivot, watching over the opposite shoulder as you lower the second strap. Now you face him, and reach behind your back in the most feminine of moves. You pretend to struggle with the unfastening. He steps to you, arms reaching around you. The garment unfastens, and he is pressed against you, embracing you, kissing you hard. The bra hangs limply, trapped between your two chests. Giggling, you strip it off.

He makes an impossibly quick motion and you are in the air. A strong hand under your knees, an arm supporting your back. You are all girlish delight as he carries you to the vast king-sized bed. He lowers you and you roll from his arms.

You pose facedown, up on an elbow, breasts pressed against the sheets, one leg up, a sensuous model. You award him with a smile and a playful giggle.

But now his expression changes, and he's much more serious.

"You think this is amusing? All day you treat me like a hired hand, as if you were that much better than me. I think it's time for an attitude adjustment." He snatches up the discarded necktie. Cloth is wrapped around one wrist, and then the other, and he ties it off, trapping your hands at your lower back.

You imagine what you look like, the sexy model now topless and tied, wearing only second skin panties. You are captive now, a damsel in distress, with no say in what happens next. You pull at your bindings, aware that your pussy is gaping and wet.

Please, you think, please don't tie and gag me.

But now he's approaching the bed, his stiff rod betraying his emotions and desires. His fingers are in your hair, pulling your face closer to his swollen manhood. You shut your mouth and eyes tightly, impotently shaking your head. Blinded, you feel the hard prick pressed against the side of your face. He draws the leaking rod across your cheek, your chin, your lips. Helpless, you relent, allowing the bulbous head past your lips, into your hot ready mouth.

You change your act, from reluctant to shameless. You pleasure him, anxious to show what a talented lover you are. You run your tongue slowly along the bottom length of his big shaft, then envelope the mushroom-like head into your mouth.

You make wet slurping sounds, raising your eyes to see the effect you are having on this man. He's staring at you, fixed on the sight of you working his fat cock in and out, between your red lips. He grips your heavy breast, trapping a nipple between long fingers. Your skin glows, your pussy is soaked, and you are certain that your musky scent fills the room, telegraphing your need.

Hands trapped behind you, you pull at the binding, feeling like captured royalty. You are a lady in distress, being taken by this brutish man running his big cock down your throat. Achingly, you rub your thighs together, desperate to feel some touch of relief.

He gazes at your helpless body, watching his cock pop in and out of your mouth. You are topless and sweaty, clad in tiny black panties. Heated, he holds your head, easing you away.

A string of spittle runs from his prick to your mouth. You lick your lips hungrily, and whimper: "Please."

A slight smile, then he lifts your head. "Please what?" he hisses.

"Please. Fuck me. Fuck me now."

An easy push over and you are square on your back, arranging your bound arms in the small of your back. He hooks the thin fabric at your hips and gradually drags down the panties. The sensation of air against your slit; you feel incredibly wet. You lie naked, prone, helpless.

One finger enters with no friction. Two fingers press up into you, spreading and awarding you with new relief. He's exploring you, finding warm syrupy wetness and a gaping, aching slot to fill.

"Please!"

Another small smile.

Bastard, you think, he's going to work leisurely. You pant under his gentle finger-fucking, slow careful motions. You gasp as he discovers your clit, tenderly massaging. You can only groan and toss your hair from side to side.

And he's gone! Your eyes fly open! But now he's climbing over you, and he urges your legs further apart.

Wetness seeps out of you, your tits ache for his touch, his lips, any attention.

Slowly, patiently, he works in the head of his thick shaft. And stops. You groan, clenching Kegel muscles, trying to draw him in. You pull anew at your bound wrists.

He's lowered himself onto you now, skilled fingers holding the base of the breast as he feeds a nipple into his hot mouth. Your insides stretch as he feeds his cock in one millimeter at a time. Such slow and delicious torture!

The tempo increases. His hands are everywhere: your tits, your face, in your hair, squeezing your ass as he pistons into you. Your pussy slick and glistening, charged and alive. His breath on your neck, his audible grunts and pants next to your face; his cock swells larger, it seems to split you in half.

He gropes under you, a frantic tug and your hands come free! Your pinched arms loose, you sink your own hands into his ass, urgently pulling him into you.

He towers over you, taking in the scene: your wide hungry eyes, your lips swollen from kissing, his own hand on your breast, his flesh retreating and then plunging into your own willing box.

You are awash in sweat and press at his chest, trying to catch your breath. Together you soon develop a pleasing rhythm, the room thick with the musk of two, alive with passion. You squeeze your breasts together, flicking your nipples, presenting yourself to him.

Abruptly he pulls out. He guides you to flip over, stuffing a pillow under your raised hips.

As he enters from behind, you feel the change in his angle, elongating you inside.

Frenzied, you let out an animalistic groan. You pull a pillow closer, moaning into it. Up on your elbows, hanging your head, you can't manage all of your senses. You work your own breast, and he grips the other. His pace is torrid as he saws in and out of you. His actions are savage.

Then those fingers are in your hair. He tightens, and clutches your mane. His cock is stuffing you urgently from behind, yet he is reining you back. This is your trigger.

Your moment arrives like a tsunami tide. There is a full-on a roaring in your ears. The wave rises up and crashes through your body. Uncontrollable pulses take over, surging through you. You are wracked in sensation; mentally you are out of control and disconnected. You alternate between biting and then screaming into your face pillow.

Your jellied brain now floats to the surface. Hmm? It seems he has stopped thrusting, your pussy void from the fullness. You are on your side, he is spooning you, cradling you with one safe, warm arm. You feel a meaty hand yet on your leg, and familiar thickness behind you, pressing an ass cheek.

"Can't breathe," you murmur and the two of you roll. You are on your back, catching your breath, trying to focus on objects in the room. His head is on your shoulder, lips kissing the tops of a glistening breast, fingers tracing under it.

"What about you?"

"I'm o.k. I wanted to be sure you had yours first. But yeah, I could use a hand."

You reach for a drawer and find a tube of lotion. You oil his member, a slickened hand drawing over his length from the purplish head to the base. You alternate speed, from gentle caress to quick fierce pulls. You cup his balls, smearing oil over all of him. While his lids are shut, his eyes seem to roll everywhere.

He feels a slight kick. He sees that you are on your back, legs widespread, inviting him in.

You dip a finger into your own pool and bring syrupy wetness to your own lips.

"We need to take care of you. C'mon..."

He scrambles up and is instantly inside of you. You draw his ear down to your mouth and hiss: "Fuck me. Do me. Take me. Fuck me hard."

He bucks and thrusts, plunging in and out, ravaging you. You gasp "Yes!" You search for the words. "Take me! Do me, take me, I'm yours." You urge him, further stirring his emotions. "Fuck me harder!" He feels the tingling signal from his balls. He gasps, "I'm close!" and then the rush. He pulses hot seed and you feel the throbbing thickness of him as well as the flooding wetness. You hold him lightly as he rides an extended furious orgasm.

After, you lay curled together. Eyes closed, you can feel the sweat dry on your body. His gasping breaths are returning to a normal rhythm. You are cuddly content, your head on his chest, tracing figure-eights on his skin. His arm is pressed behind you, drawing you close to him.

You open your eyes and tap a finger. "Hey. I'm getting really sleepy now. I want you to go down to the car for that open champagne bottle and bring it up here. Make sure it stays cold. Then I want all of today's shopping up off the floor, on hangers and then in the closet. Be quiet about it, don't wake me until I'm ready."

And you roll over and immediately fall fast asleep.

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Performed one steamy Saturday night. 98% accurate, 2% artistic license. CP