Note: This story, including all names and people, is entirely fictional and not based on any real life experiences or events.

“Kneel.”

The command sends shivers through my entire body. Just one, simple little word and I’m thrust into subspace. The need to be a good girl for my husband, to please him and make him happy, is all I feel as I obey him.

I kneel before him, my eyes respectfully downcast and my hands on my thighs, waiting for him to tell me what to do. His feet, clad in leather shoes, are just inches from my knees, and my eyes focus on them. He wants me demure and submissive, even with my eyes, and just the act of doing so makes me wet between my legs.

His hand comes down to the top of my head, gently petting me, and I lean into his touch. His calloused fingertips scratch me slightly, reminding me of how hard and strong he is compared to me.

“Such an obedient little thing,” he says, and I clench on air at the demeaning yet praising words. “You wanna suck my cock, baby?”

I nod. “Yes, Sir. Please.” In this moment, on my knees before my husband, there is literally nothing I want more than to take him into my mouth.

Slowly, he brings his fingers to his slacks. He unzips himself with the same aching slowness, every inch of movement with the zipper making my mouth water even more. Next, he unbuttons his slacks, then slowly pulls them down, leaving just his boxers.

His hard length presses tightly against his underwear, and I swallow with anticipation. He’s fairly big, and it’s almost always a little intimidating when we get into it.

But I’m so fucking hungry for him that when he pulls his boxers down, I have to stop myself from swallowing him in one motion. I hate that I can’t go as fast as I want, but he prefers me to go slower, to take my time.

And I still have to wait for permission, like the good girl he expects me to be. His cock twitches right in front of my eyes, the tip beading with his arousal. It’s so hard to wait, and all I can think of is how good I want to make him feel, that’s how badly I want to blow him, but he expects me to wait, and so I do.

After a minute, I feel his hand coming to beneath my chin, tilting my head up to look into his gorgeous eyes. “You want it, little girl?” I nod. “Beg.”

I swallow, preparing myself. Even though begging gets me going, it’s still humiliating enough to make me hesitate at first. “Please,” I finally push out. “Please let me suck your cock, Master.”

He hums. “Such a good girl.” His thumb rubs my chin, and I smile. “But you can do better than that.”

“Please, Master, I need it so bad,” I beg. “I can’t wait any longer, please. I’ll do anything, just please let me blow you.”

My cheeks are red with humiliation, but my pussy still thrums with each word I say. Degrading myself like this is exactly what I need, because now, nothing exists but me and my husband and the tension between us.

So, when he finally says, “Go ahead, baby,” I don’t hesitate.

I make myself go slow, beginning by licking a long path up his entire length. The feel of his smooth, warm skin beneath my tongue alone is enough to make me moan with pleasure. He moans too, the sound traveling down my entire spine and landing between my legs.

I spend some time using my tongue on him, teasing him and tasting him like I’m savouring it. I lick his tip, the salty flavour of his arousal tasting so fucking good on my tongue. When I swallow it, I finally wrap my lips around his head, sucking it into my mouth while my tongue teases the ridge of his head.

He groans, somewhere low in his chest, and his hands grip my head to keep me steady. “That’s it,” he mutters. “That’s my good little girl.”

I moan at the praise, and I try taking him deeper, but he grips my hair to keep me where I am. “So eager, aren’t you?” he asks, and I nod.

He chuckles affectionately, but I barely hear it. I’m too focused on the way he tastes in my mouth and the feel of him swelling and twitching inside me. I can’t get enough of the feel of him beneath my tongue, and I spend who knows how long just licking him as I suck him into my mouth.

Eventually, my husband’s grip on my hair loosens slightly, and I begin taking him deeper. He moans as I go deeper and deeper, all the way until I gag. There’s still an inch or two of him left, and I wrap two fingers around the remaining length of him, but he just gently pries them away.

“No hands,” he commands, and I nod as best I can with him so far into my mouth.

He’s just at the edge of my gag reflex, so when he pushes himself just a little bit deeper, I gag again, but he doesn’t pull back. He goes further and further, all the way until my nose is crushed against the coarse hair at his base.

“Choke on it like a good little slut,” he groans, but it’s not like I have a choice right now, do I?

I try my best to not gag, but the only way I can avoid it is by holding my breath. I can’t even breathe through my nose, and I definitely can’t move anywhere, but while he’s staying still like this, I can keep my gag reflex under control.

Maybe that’s why he twitches and adjusts his angle, just to make me gag on purpose. He hums as I do, getting off on how I struggle to take him. “Fuck, I love the way you sound when you struggle,” he says, and I’d moan if my throat wasn’t occupied.

He keeps me there until I’m convinced I’ll throw up, and only then does he release me. I pull my head back all the way, taking a few deep, heaving breaths and resting my head against his thigh.

He pets me, the gentle motion reminding me that I’m safe. It’s not like I’d forget, but having a physical reminder of his love still helps me centre myself.

“You doing okay, sweetheart?” he asks.

I nod. “Yes, Master.” I take a few more breaths, then pull away from his leg. “Can we keep going? Please?”

He huffs an affectionate laugh, leaning down to kiss me on the forehead. “Of course we can, my good little girl.”

I nod, taking another deep breath, then take him into my mouth again.

I don’t go as far this time, instead stopping about halfway down his length and using my tongue. When I lick the underside of his head, I get a surprised gasp in response. “God, that’s it,” he says, and I smile, loving the way I make him sound.

But after a minute of this, he loses a little of his control. He doesn’t do it hard or fast, but he goes deep with every thrust of his. His hands rest gently on my head to keep me steady as he goes in and out at a steady pace. I lick him whenever I get the chance to, earning moans and groans out of his full lips.

My hands wring in my lap, desperate to either touch him or myself. It’s torture, only being able to use my mouth to pleasure him, and the incessant thrumming between my legs has only grown more intense, only become harder to ignore.

“You take me so fucking well,” my husband groans, going just a little faster. The faster thrusts make it harder not to gag, but I do my best, even though he’s making it a losing battle for me.

I’m moaning despite the painful stretch of my jaw and the way he makes me gag. Or, well, it’s rather because of it. I love the way I have to make myself slightly uncomfortable to please him, whether that be the feel of the hardwood floor beneath my knees or the way my jaw hurts. It just makes me that much happier to please him, knowing that I’m sacrificing some of my own comfort to achieve it.

Finally, after a few minutes of thrusting, he pulls out. We’re both breathing heavily, but I barely get a chance to catch my breath before he leans down, grips my throat, and kisses me deep.

I whimper with need as he pulls me up, just a little, and his tongue plunges into my mouth. He fills my mouth so completely with his tongue that I can’t keep up with my own. I just have to let him take me, let him moan into my mouth as he fills it.

The hand around my throat tightens, not completely cutting off the blood flow to my head but still making it harder for the blood to move. The slightly foggy sensation makes it harder to focus on anything but him and the way he takes my mouth, not that I’d want to.

His other hand grips the straps of my dress, yanking them down. I gasp, the sound getting lost somewhere between our kiss, as he pulls the straps down far enough to expose my breasts. He grips one, kneading and playing with it. The stiffened peak rubs against his calloused palm, sending zings of pleasure straight to my core.

He tugs at it, just hard enough to be painful, and I moan and whimper even more. I can’t keep the sounds inside myself, and when he finally breaks away from our kiss, I can’t help but beg, “Please, Sir, I need to come.”

His face is mere inches from mine, his grip on my throat still tight. His other hand rests on my cheek, his thumb playing with my lip. My mouth parts for him, and he stuffs it inside me, hooking into my jaw to keep my mouth open.

“Shh, baby girl,” he coos. “You’ll get to come later, but for now, you’re going to bend over the bed with your ass up like the good girl I know you are, okay?”

I nod as best I can with his hands on my throat and on my face. He releases me, and I hurry to obey him, getting on the bed and bending over. I stuff my face into the mattress, sticking my ass so high that I feel nothing but the cold air between my legs, reminding me of just how wet I am for him.

He sees it too, because he releases a deep, pleasured groan when he comes up behind me. My dress isn’t long enough to cover me like this, yet he still flips my skirt up, exposing every inch of my lower body.

“Fuck, you’re so beautiful,” he mutters, almost to himself.

The compliment makes me feel warm all over, yet also makes goosebumps break out across my exposed skin.

The weight of him dips into the mattress as he adjusts himself behind me, kneeling. He leans over, pressing his erection against my ass, and places his hand on the back of my neck. His mouth comes right next to my ear, so close that I feel his lips move as he mutters, “I’m going to fuck you now, baby, okay?”

I nod. “Yes, Master. Please.” Even though he’s promised to fuck me already, I can’t help but beg for it.

His other hand grips the crease where my thigh meets my hip, and he stays leaned over me as he begins lining himself up with my entrance.

And then he pushes inside.

All I see is stars, and all I feel is him as he pushes himself into me. I’m so aroused, yet I still have to stretch around him and adjust to his size. He moans into my ear, and I moan into the mattress, as he pushes himself deeper and deeper until he’s to the hilt.

“God, you’re so wet for me, aren’t you?”

I nod. “Yes, Sir.” My words sound like desperate whimpers, and I’m barely able to get them out with how turned on I am.

He stays inside me, making me accommodate him. “How do you feel?”

“Full,” I gasp.

He chuckles, amused. “You fit so fucking well around me, you know that? Like you were made for me.” I nod desperately, loving every word he mutters into my ear. “What’s your safeword, sweetheart?”

“Red,” I breathe.

“Good girl.”

And that’s all he says before he begins thrusting. He’s still bent over me, and he begins with slow, almost exploring thrusts into me. We both moan with the friction, with every inch he moves in and out, in and out.

With his front pressed against my back, I can’t really move with him. All I can do is lay there, letting him take my pussy like he owns it. His thrusts are hard and deep, yet still careful, letting me adjust to the feel of him inside me.

“Oh, god…” I moan. “Fuck.”

“God, you’re so fucking perfect,” he groans into my ear, each syllable accompanied by another thrust. “Such a good fucking girl for me.”

I nod, gasping out a “Yes, Master.”

His thrusts quicken, overwhelming me a little with just how good he feels inside me. I’m in delirium, overwhelmed with pleasure and a desperate need to come.

“Please,” I beg. “I need to come so bad, fuck.” I keep uttering expletives, unable to form any coherent sentences as he fucks me.

My husband leans forward, just a little closer to my ear. He takes the lobe into his mouth, sucking and nibbling it a little. “I love when you beg for me,” he whispers. His hot breath fans my ear, making me shiver all over.

“Please make me come, Master. Please, please, please,” I keep saying “please” over and over again, not even phased by how pathetic it makes me sound. If anything, it just makes me hornier. “I need it so bad,” I whimper.

He groans deep in my ear, and finally, he snakes the hand on my hip down to between my legs, right above where we’re joined.

I’m not convinced the moan that escapes me at his touch is a sound humans are capable of making, but I’m too far gone to care. There’s nothing left in the world but him and his cock inside me and his hand on my clit, nothing left but his careful thrusts and his loving strokes.

He rubs my clit with two fingers, and the pleasure quickly overwhelms me. I still haven’t received permission to come, but I’ll come in an instant the second he lets me. It’s a desperate battle to keep myself under control, but if he keeps going, I won’t be able to for much longer.

“Please, Sir, let me come, please!” I beg on desperate whimpers and gasps, unable to do anything else.

“Shh, my little girl,” he mutters. “I’ll let you come, but you need to be good for me and hold it, okay?”

Fuck, I just don’t know if I can. But despite that, I still nod, needing to be good for him more than I need my orgasm.

His thrusts quicken even more, turning almost violent, but by now, all I feel is pleasure. I’m so wet for him that I can audibly hear it, along with our heavy breaths and moans and the slapping of his hips against my ass.

Eventually, after another minute, he moans my name and plunges fully into me. His cock twitches as he comes inside me, filling me up, but his fingers don’t slow or change rhythm.

“Please, Master,” I beg again, and fucking finally, I hear the words I’ve been so desperate to hear.

“Come for me, baby,” he says, and with a few more strokes at my clit, I come apart.

I cry out, desperately grinding against his hand and his cock. He’s still hard, filling me in the most delicious way. His calloused fingertips against my sensitive flesh push sounds and expletives out of me that I’d be embarrassed for if it was anyone but him. All I feel as I come is him, and all I can think about is him and how fucking perfect we feel together.

Finally, once I’m back down, he pulls out of me. We’re both dripping with each other’s come, and the feel of his running down my thighs makes me desperate for another round.

But instead, I stay there, bent over the bed, as my husband stands. He leaves, returning shortly after with a soft, fluffy towel that he uses to clean me up. Once done, he crouches next to the bed, right in front of my face.

He gives me a kiss on the forehead, then says, “You were such a good girl for me tonight.”

I smile. “Thank you,” I whisper, unable to say much more. I’m completely spent, and I just know I’ll be feeling him inside me for the rest of the night.

He strips out of his clothes, then lays down in bed next to me. He pulls me until I tip over and land on my side but stops me from snuggling against him. He gently unzips my dress, then, with some struggle that makes us both laugh, pulls it off my body.

And finally, he pulls me against him, both of us completely naked, as close as we can be. His arms wrap around me, making me feel so safe and cared for that I fall asleep only a short time later.

Thank you for reading!💜