Your Journey Starts on Sir's Desk

"Again Sir," you pant, even as your rational brain registers how surreal it sounds.

The second smack is on the other cheek, as hard as the first. You writhe under his hand, moaning.

"Oh fuck, Sir, please fuck me, I need to come Sir, please, please fuck me..." The words tumble from your mouth, hot and dirty and shocking. His voice is close to your ear as he whispers to you.'

"Would you like to be fucked, Miss? Would you like to be my dirty little toy?"

"Oh yes Sir, please, oh I would love to be your dirty girl, please let me come Sir!" You've never been this aroused in your life. The depth of it is hard to wrap your mind around, but at the moment there is nothing but the aching need to get off.

"Not yet," he whispers, "stop touching."

Your frustration is complete. Your hands find their way back to your pussy, but he grabs your wrists and holds them firmly on the desk. You can see the dark stain of your wetness on his desk, one stocking around your ankle and your hair fallen in your face. Your hips rise and fall from the desk, as though searching for release.

Sir's head lowers between your thighs, even while his hands still hold you fast. You hold your breath, then struggle not to let it out as a scream as his tongue glides over your swollen clitoris. His warm, silky tongue twirls around your clit and over the lips of your pussy. There is strange calm that washes over you as the pleasure of it removes the frustration. Your eyes close as you sink down to lie on the desk once again. His lips and tongue weave and caress and slide all over you. One hand leaves your wrist and you feel strong, confident fingers massaging your outer lips.

As the orgasm reaches its zenith you become aware of someone's voice. As the pleasure begins to subside, you realise it's your own wordless cry that you are hearing. His finger pushing inward and downward had been what pushed you over the edge. One moment you were riding a wave of ecstasy, the next the wave was breaking and plunging you through the whitewash of one of the most intense climaxes in your memory.

His fingers have stopped moving, but they remain inside you. There is a pleasant calm that is washing over you, and the sensation of his warm hand on the small of your back feels wonderful. There is a pause, a moment quiet.

"That was very sexy Miss," he purrs.

You smile with satisfaction; that he finds your arousal sexy seems to somehow enhance how hot the whole thing has been. You revel in the delicious after-glow a moment more before you realise Sir's fingers are moving inside you. Only very gently, but his movements are unmistakable; he is caressing your G-spot. You turn your head to try to see what he might be up to, but as you do the hand in the small of your back increases its pressure just slightly. The message is clear. Sir is not done with you yet.

Your pussy is still drenched, and his finger slips smoothly over the slightly textured area just inside you. Every fourth or fifth stroke, he rubs just a little harder. Almost immediately your arousal begins to awaken again. Normally you are far too sensitive after an orgasm to consider trying again, but he is careful not to touch your clitoris. His sole focus is your G-spot, and the awareness of your body's response makes your head swim. Your body sags against his desk once more and you attempt to part your legs a little further for him.

He begins to apply that pressure to your pulsing G-spot more frequently, sending bolts of pleasure up and down your spine. You moan as you feel him slip a second finger inside you, adding to the intensity. He starts to thrust his fingers, fucking you as he promised earlier. You can hear the wet sounds of your arousal and this just adds to the eroticism. His fingers hook around at more of an angle, clamping down on your G-spot. You've never felt so swollen and open, so dominated, so...free.

Your body shakes against his desk as your pussy bears down on his thrusting fingers. A mini tornado whips through your nervous system, and something akin to an orgasm shudders through you. But Sir's hand continues to thrust, and even as the sensation dies, a larger version builds behind it. Again his fingers drive into you and again your body clenches around him. The second climax thunders through you, but still Sir's fingers keep slipping in and out. The pleasure has become a blissful blur, and you are unwilling and unable to stifle the lustful cries that tumble from you.

As a final surge builds, his fingers find their way between your legs to your clit. He works it back and forth in time with his thrusts. Your body pulls tight, your back arched for a single, wonderful suspended moment of pleasure before your final orgasm explodes. You have lost count of how many times you've climaxed, and your exhausted body slumps forward.

A sense of motion makes your eyelids flutter open. He has gently swept you up in his arms, and his carrying you. Some tiny part of you is amused by the romance novel image this must present, but a bigger part is grateful to have moved from his desk as there were muscles starting to protest.

He places you carefully on the large leather couch in the corner, and wraps something warm around your semi-naked body. He sits close to you, his presence warm and reassuring. He lightly strokes your hair while your breathing returns to something close to normal.

His lips are close to your ear again.

"I want you to be my submissive, Miss," he whispers.

In a sensual haze, you wonder what that could possibly mean...