Fifteen Inches

Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32

Fifteen inches.No, no oh no, it’s not what you think. That size? Does it even exist? Do I even want to know? Do I even want to imagine what can and cannot be done with that size?No, I’m just talking about a ruler, a forty-centimetre or fifteen-whatever-inches ruler, which I’ve just found clearing out an old cupboard.I always had a thing for rulers and unknowingly hoarded a large collection of them throughout the years. Some ordinary plastic ones; a nice thick wooden one, which I think I’ve nicked from some office as revenge for something a certain dickhead boss did; a few princess ones from my girls’ princess days and a couple of short pink and yellow ones with drawing patterns for stars, crowns, etc. from the same princess days.I don’t know where this super long white one came from and how did it end up in the back of this cupboard, but it gave me a few ideas as to how to spend the evening…I think my slight obsession with these fancy implements of measure started back in my final year in secondary school, with Mr W, who was our PE and substitute Maths teacher. I had to repeat a year due to my parent’s hectic travel schedule and at nineteen, not only was I the oldest in my class, but I had a few tricks and kinks up my sleeve, which I’ve picked up on my travels around Europe. (Quick tip: forget Italian guys, they are not that amazing; my pick of the litter would be Dutch – kinky AF, yum.)Ok, back to Mr W. Everyone loved him, he was funny, always joining in the sports games, and you could turn to him with absolutely any crap life threw at you, he always tried to help. Oh, and he was hot as hell, with a sexy little strip of a moustache curling irresistibly when he smiled, a bit like Freddy Mercury in ‘The show must go on.’He had a medium-sized clear plastic ruler, which he normally used as a bookmark or he occasionally waved it in the air absent-mindedly when explaining something.  But sometimes when the noise in the classroom was too disturbing, he slapped it against the big wooden desk. “Keep the buzz down,” he always said.I just loved the sharp crashing sound it made and the authoritative look on his face as he scanned the room for troublemakers, it made me buzz in whole other ways.On one of the first few occasions he’s done that, I stared at him trying to catch that look in his eyes to answer my unspoken question about possibly using that ruler for other things. We locked eyes for a brief moment and the shadow of a smirk flashing across the corner of his lips seemed to confirm my suspicion. Yes, indeed, he was a big fan of hearing it slap across different materials, but especially peachy bums. And as I later found out, so was his wife. But that is a whole other story…This time, I want to talk about this white, fifteen-inch beauty. It is made of solid, chalky white plastic and has thick black lines and numbers marking centimetres and inches.I clean it with a bit of kitchen spray and admire it, testing its flexibility and bite on my naked thigh. I soon learn that because of its length, it is quite difficult to control the velocity of the slap and it has a very sharp nip. My naughty mind starts cooking up all sorts of kink-stew.Later, when the kids are gone to bed and hubby settles down to watch telly, I sit down at the dining table and pretend to do some drawing with my new toy. There’s nothing out of the ordinary about that, as I often make to-do lists, kids rewards charts etc.Poor husband still doesn’t suspect a thing, even when I slam it across the table. He looks at me briefly, then back to his boring programme, obviously missing my mischievous pout.After a while, I sit down next to him in a pair of barely-there hotpants, leaving my naked, outstretched legs on full display. Still nothing unusual about it, I often wear hotpants for lounging around the house.But what is rather alarming now, is the fact, that I brought the ruler with me and as I pretend to engage in whatever shit he is watching, I’m absent-mindedly slapping my naked thigh with it.Sure, that earns me a pair of ‘waddafuck’ eyes straight away.As I clear my throat to speak, my TV glasses would be a great prop to lower onto my nose, but unfortunately, the kid chucked them into his box of toys the previous day, smashing them into a million pieces. (Well, at least I could dump a whole box of toy junk into the bin because it’s not like mummy’s gonna fish for shards in there honey, hold the tears please, it’s all your fault after all.)Trying to get that mummy tone out of my head, I lower my voice as I tell the eye-rolling husband off. “I think you have been a very naughty boy today, Mister, ignoring me all day,” I’m happy with this more authoritative teacher voice, I found in my ‘the professions that might have suited me better than my current one’ repertoire. In case you’re wondering, there are quite a few voices in there from kinky nurse to cruel animal handler.Quinn is looking his best tonight, sporting a mix of adorable brown puppy eyes and a few days old ruff scruff with a tiny little moustache, raising cheekily reminding me of Mr W. Tonight, the roles are reversed though and I have the implement of measure Ankara bayan escort and torture in my hand.“I didn’t mean to be, Miss, I swear, I’ve been very busy.” His slightly mocking tone proves that he’s still unsure, if I’m just fooling around or this is the beginning of a long and ouchy night.“That is not an excuse, it only takes a few seconds for a kiss or a cuddle or…” (grabbing my ass, bending me over the counter… But these things we don’t talk about right now, because right now, I’m the boss!)By this time, my outstretched ruler is near his face. I snuggle up to him and place the ruler under his chin, using it to turn his face towards me. “Doesn’t it?” I scold him with one gentle slap on his damn sexy face.“Yeees,” he murmurs hesitantly with a question in that reply. And that question is: “So, what’s gonna happen now?”“You have to be punished don’t ya think?” I whack him across his chest. “Lose this!” Then on his leg. “And this!” The second slap makes a disappointingly muffled sound through the thick denim on his sexy muscular thigh. So, I hit him again. Harder. Too hard, maaaybe. As I said, hard to control the strength with this one. “Boxers too!”“Babeeees, I was watching (insert the name of any boring shit TV programme here),” he whines, earning himself an eye-roll and a disgusted grimace on my face.“Your taste of TV has to be corrected,” I snap seizing the controller with my left hand and holding it towards the stupid box, while my right hand continues gently slapping his body.  I put Pornhub on, choosing a femdom video with a leather-clad, slightly old dominatrix (god, why do they always have to be so old? It always makes me question my career choices and urges me to pursue what I know I would be much better at, or at least younger…) strapping a spiked leather collar around her male sub’s neck.“So much better, don’t ya think?” I point towards the TV screen, that zooms in on the sub’s sorry, hopeless, begging eyes.“You’ve been very ungrateful and unappreciative lately, pet. We need to correct that.” I’m about to rip the rest of his clothes off and make him kneel on the floor to tie his wrists together, but in the process, I spot something unacceptable. “You haven’t shaved, your balls are disgustingly hairy! Up, up, up!” I command, slapping his butt with the ruler. “Into the bathroom, NOW!”I run a nice warm bath for him while he looks for a razor and shaving foam in the cupboard. Once he finds all the gear, he looks at me expecting me to leave, but I won’t give him the luxury of privacy. “No, I want to see it,” I tell him, pointing into the bath with the ruler for him to get in. “The amount of money I’ve spent and all the pain I’ve endured to have my bush lasered to be smooth and delicious for you, it would be common decency to shave yours, wouldn’t it? I mean, how long does it take to shave, five minutes?”He reluctantly mumbles something under his breath while getting comfortable sitting on the end of the bathtub. His voice is monotone and bored. I can tell, he is not doing this because he accepted my rulership (mmm, I love that pun) for the night, but because he knows, I won’t leave him alone, till he does as he’s told. And that ain’t right. “I didn’t hear ya!?”“I’ll always keep myself tidy for my baby.”“You mean ‘Miss or Lady?” I always had a problem with titles, with how I want to be addressed when topping. I hate ‘mistress, goddess’ but I also hate ‘master’ when the roles are reversed. The only ones I really like are ‘Miss and Sir’ maybe because they are not that OTT and pretentious. Having said that, for our first anniversary (or Valentine’s day, can’t remember) I’ve bought a tiny share of some faraway Scottish castle earning us the decorative title of Lord and Lady, so technically ‘Lady’ is not only acceptable but also accurate.He doesn’t correct himself and I let it slip because he’s lathering up his sexy private bits and watching it simply takes my breath away. His legs are spread wide, his fingers are massaging his balls, then glide up and down his shaft. He looks at me with a smirk. He knows what he’s doing, he knows how much I love watching him play with himself.It reminds me of the days when he sent me wanking videos at the very beginning of our relationship. Some shy away from dick pics, but me, I wanted more, and he delivered. I loved every second of it, his cock getting harder and harder with every stroke, the deep ragged moans when he was getting close, or the huge amounts of cum jolting everywhere, his workstation needing a wipe down.“Stop daydreaming!” I tell him and for myself just as much. He gathers his concentration looking down at the job, holds his hardening tool out of the way and glides the sharp razor up his treasure, which makes me lose my focus.“Mmm, I’m really enjoying this,” I purr. “Next time, I want to be the one shaving you…” Maybe with one of those dangerous-looking old fashioned, foldout ‘cutthroat’ ones. Mmmm, that image is making me very wet. I could practice on his face, his beautiful precious face… Mmmm…I doubt he’d let me anywhere near him with a blade… But I do have Escort bayan Ankara my ways to get what I want, don’t I? I’m getting more and more psycho as I get older. Let’s file this under the ‘really messed up fantasies’ and probably not tell him. Just yet.The only thing unpleasant about this experience, that pulls me out of my daydreams is a nauseating smell, the smell of cheap shaving foam. It’s making me gag. I look at the bottle: it’s some rubbish shop’s own brand. That typical ‘sport’ labelled masculine smell I wouldn’t even use as a toilet air freshener. “This shaving foam smells disgusting, I need to buy you a better one.”“Well, I don’t use it too often,” he explains. He’s been growing a beard recently and uses a trimmer only. He looks sexier with the designer stubble, so I approve of that, but not the hairy balls, nor the stinky foam.“I don’t care. From now on, there will be weekly inspections. And you know, you won’t regret it if you please me…” Apparently, my oral skills are ‘the best he ever had’ and ‘out of this world’. So yeah, he will not regret it. “Today is another matter entirely though. Today you displeased me and if you think my mouth goes anywhere near your junk, however clean-shaven it is (just swallowed a little saliva by the sight of it though), you’re sadly mistaken.”“What the hell am I doing this for then?”Oh, I could get drunk on the sweet outrage in his voice. I’m in my true element, like a mermaid swimming in a sea of prosecco. I slowly slap my palm with the ruler a few times as I tell him with a twisted smile, “I need a nice smooth surface for the ruler.”I see his soapy cock twitch in his hand swelling to a full hard-on. Mmm, I do really like these games.“You are NOT going to slap my balls with that thing,” he informs me in a voice that just simply doesn’t fly this evening, not when I’m the one wearing the pants.“Well, I thought you wanted to play,” I tease sliding my finger along the wet and slippery edge of the bath, then continue onto his thigh, inch by inch, nearing the soapy mess between his legs. Then, ever so gently, I touch the very tip of his cock poking out of the foamy heap. “You seem to want to play,” I purr lowering myself to his level and seeking out his eyes. “I’ll be gentle, I promise.”When I see him letting out a relaxed sigh and he looks down again to finish rinsing himself off, I add whispering, almost certain he can’t hear me, “First.”He stands up, water dripping off his lower body, his frame towering above me as if he was trying to intimidate me with his size. But we’re not playing those games now.“Towel,” he holds out his hand asking for one.“You mean ‘please’?!”“Yeah, whatever.”“In that case, you can get it yourself, dickhead.”I trot down the stair, expecting him to follow me shortly. He has a raging hard-on and he’s fighting it but I know it turns him on when I’m being a bitch, so I know he will be downstairs faster than the crack of a whip.Having shedded my lounge attire of comfy hotpants I’m awaiting him wearing only my black lace slip dress.The domme on TV finished her ‘job’ and the screen is frozen on the last image, which is a delicious cum soaked cock. I imagine all that cum have oozed out slowly and painfully from the member of the poor tortured slave in a nice ruined orgasm.“Mmm,” I pout my lips as I grab the controller and chose something else, when he ceremoniously marches in wearing a pair of black boxers.“I’m glad you decided you wanted pussy, no matter the cost, sweetheart,” I grin at him, well proud of my uppity line.“I figured, I can stop you any time if I don’t like it,” he says folding his arms on his chest and adding a little cough that sounds suspiciously like ‘bitch’.I shake my head. Of course, you’re wrong as always. I reinforce my disapproval with my favourite line that apparently I tend to overuse. Every time he’s mimicking me he always brings it up. “I don’t think so.” He is right, I do say it a lot and I do say it in a funny way – I think it’s from a cartoon or something like that.But how else would I trample his hopes for escape by showing him my brand new purple bundle of ropes other than with that line? “You need to learn how to treat your wife properly!” I add, fiddling with my sexy new rig.I see his eyes light up because he suddenly thinks he knows where this is going. Well, in a way, he is not wrong. I’m definitely going to be taking advantage of his oral skills for one (which is his favourite pastime when tied down)… But where would all the fun be without coercing him into doing things he doesn’t want?“Kiss me,” I grab his chin, demanding his complete attention, turning his face away from the damn box. Putting his arms around me he sucks on my lips then prods my mouth with his tongue. “With a little more zest,” I request.He pulls me closer, our bodies moulding into each other like stacked up honey pancakes. His hip bone crashes into my stomach, his chest into my shoulders and his rock hard cock… Mmm, damn, now I want it inside me! All that beautiful thick, curved 8 inches…But I stop myself. No, this is not one of those nights when I let him Bayan escort Ankara overpower me. His lips and tongue are launching an aggressive attack now, they invade my mouth leaving no empty space in my oral cavity. He’s pressing his body further into mine, that stubborn, rimmed steel-helmeted army general leading the offence. If I’m not careful, he’s going to turn me into wallpaper and have his way with me. I can’t let that happen. I gather all my strength and push him away.“Hands off! I don’t want you to kiss me like you own me.” (There’s beauty in that too but not now, not today. Damn.) “Kiss me the way you kiss me when you want something. Beg me with your tongue. Because I guarantee you, in a minute you will be begging for a lot of things.”“You know how to make me soft,” he rumbles. I could hate him for that sentence, it could make me soft, if I wasn’t in love with his voice, with every deep syllable he breathes out and the disappointed rasp edge in it.“You’re far from soft, look at you! You are as hard as ever.” I grab his tool, cursing under my breath about the stupid cotton covering my toy. “Lose that fucking boxer already!” I grit my teeth at him because he’s really pissing me off now. Honestly? I don’t give two fucks, if he’s hard or soft. He’s my plaything tonight and if he underperforms in that department, he can always up his other tricks.It’s time to bind those hands as it seems he can’t keep them at bay, still confident he can turn things around. Nope, sweets, not tonight!I tie his wrists together behind his back, just to hear him make another smartass comment about how is he going to take off his underpants now. That just earns him a super tight cuff around his wrists and me coming into his face. “I think it’s about time you shut it up for the night, pet! And don’t you worry about your underwear, it will come off in due course. Now, let’s try that devoted kiss again.”This time my hands are around him, around the back of his head and I lick his lips, chew on them a little and do any sort of instinctive nastiness that propels out heartbeat.I leave him panting, wanting more when I push him away. The expression on his face has changed, more placid, more submissive – we’re getting somewhere.“More?” I ask with a large intake of breath as if I was going underwater. Indeed there’s no breathable atmosphere where we’re heading.He nods and the low grunt escaping his lips is first gear to my revving engine.“Down on your knees, you dirt!” I kiss him like a beast, covering his whole mouth with my lips, not letting him breathe, paralysing his mouth, his jaw, I press my thumbs into his neck until he struggles for air. Then I slowly release him, licking his face, his jawline. I delight in the sudden gulps of air he’s fighting for. Deep inside, now he knows what’s coming.I kiss him hard, ferociously both of us panting, wheezing, wanting more. Then I tear my lips away from his, just to cover his mouth and nose with my palm. I get my toxic buzz from the sight of his pupils dilating to resemble a total eclipse. Like full moon to a werewolf, those eyes are to the animal ripping from the inside of the chest of this sweet little MILF.I put my bare foot underneath his package and feel for his wildly twitching cock. I wait a few seconds (normally around five) looking into his eyes, smiling, mouthing the words ‘slow down your breathing, baby’.He does as he’s told, he’s a smart boy. He trusts me, of course he does, he has no other option. By this time he normally had tested the strength of my rope handcuffs, just to conclude every single time, that no, they won’t break.I kiss the back of my hand that still smothers his mouth, still cutting off his precious air supply. I lick it and once again tongue his whole salty face, then I let him breathe. Well, not quite. Because as soon as I take my hand off, my lips are on him.“That’s it, breathe me in, like oxygen, kiss me like you need me,” I grunt between ragged breaths letting him get some too. Because I’m nice like that.Once his breathing somewhat regulates itself, he murmurs something incoherent.“Did you say ‘more’?” I grin.He very quickly gathers his thoughts and straightens his alphabet to form that ugly objection, “No!”“Ahh, just one more baby, don’t disappoint me now. You know how much this turns me on.” Yes, as I said, psycho bitch and all. What can I do? I get off on torturing him a little, so what?“Please, no!”I look at him, shaking my head, disappointment written all over my face. Then comes my second favourite sentence ever with narrowed, darkened eyes: “That is not your safeword.”We both know, it means much more than those five words. What I really mean to say is ‘There is the safeword, if you really really need to use it, but don’t be a dick and ruin my fun by using it!’And I know he won’t, because he trusts me and because that delicious rush overrides that initial rouse of panic. I stroke his swollen cock with my foot as I speak again. “Just give me one more baby,” I purr, “then I let you taste what all this does to me.”Now that he knows what’s coming, he’s a bit more apprehensive but more prepared. His panicky flight reflex is rising his heartbeat, he’s taking in too much air, possibly causing him to hyperventilate. But he knows the rules, he knows what’s happening, he’s a smart boy so he’s using his mind to slow down his breathing. I stroke his face so gently, so lovingly, as if thanking him for letting me hurt him a little.

Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32