Blissful Torment

You arrive with the plane. After the drudgery that is baggage claim and customs, you walk through the sliding doors into the arrivals hall. There is still a sliver of doubt in your mind that both of you might fail to recognise the other, which could be painfully awkward.

But you spot him instantly, your eyes meet, and he gives you a welcoming smile from the distance. He is wearing a well-fitting dark blue suit. He looks great in it, but for a second it makes you conscious of your own frazzled appearance. A couple hours of travel turn everybody into a mess. Before you can say anything, he grapples you into a hug. His body is warm, and a hint of soap and cologne greets your nose.

"Hi," he says. His voice sounds different than what you're used to on the phone, but still warm and welcoming. "Wasn't sure you'd show up in the end."

"Of course I would!" you say, faking outrage, "I wrote you when I boarded the plane!"

"Yeah well that could have been made up. I'm still only 99% convinced this is not an elaborate catfish."

You both share a laugh at the absurdity of the statement. He grabs your luggage, and says, "Let's go. Parking fees are going to bankrupt me otherwise."

You roll your eyes. Definitely the same person in real life. "Bardic liberties" he once called it.

It's a short walk through the airport hallways. He keeps making easy conversation, asking you about the trip, seamlessly continuing from where you left off in writing. Why is he even wearing a suit? You wonder. It's not even a work day, and he said he never wore a suit to work anyway.

As you arrive at the car in the dark parking garage, he turns around and quickly scans the area, his demeanour suddenly intense.

"Give me your panties." It comes as an order.

You swallow drily. It does not seem like anyone is nearby, but it is a very busy airport, and a very large garage.

"They would only get in the way," he adds, as he opens the passenger side door. There's a towel on the seat, casually thrown there. Slightly unsure but intrigued, you pick it up, only to discover that it hides a short and fat dildo with a flared base. Judging from the colour coding (it's pink) it's thankfully not for anal use.

You nod a few times to yourself. You can do this. One last check of the surroundings, and you bend over and slip your panties out from under your skirt. He did insist you wear a skirt; now it's clear why. You hand him the small green piece of cloth, and he slips it into a pocket. You wonder if you will ever see your favourite pair of panties again.

He motions towards the car. You give him a questioning look as you point to the toy, and he just nods. A tiny smile has crept onto his face. Clearly he is enjoying this. You drape the towel over the cushions, and climb on top. He closes the door behind you and walks around the car to get to the driver's seat.

He slides into the car next to you before you got your skirt sorted out so it's not in the way. You grab the dildo and slide it under yourself, and try to relax to push it in. It's not an easy fit, and you groan as your weight forces it into you. Lube would have been helped, but if he had wanted you to use any, he would have brought some. 

The drive is both completely uneventful and nerve-racking. Nothing unusual happens, he drives safely and carefully, but every time he brakes or accelerates it makes you conscious of the toy inside your body. Due to its size even the smallest movement is very noticeable. You're glad there's a towel, it would suck to leave a puddle on the seat.

As you get out of the car, you pull the dildo out and it makes you groan. It feels like you're gaping open. After a couple of steps you notice how your own juices are starting to leak down your legs. The embarrassment only arouses you more. Can he smell it as you ride the elevator?

He unlocks the door into his apartment and bids you inside. Few but wide rooms, bright, with large windows that overlook the whole town.

"Do you want a shower?" he asks, implying you should take one, but it's not a difficult choice for you either way, to wash the travel grime and sweat away. He shows you the bathroom, a very modern design with a walk-in shower.

You take your time, wash your hair and enjoy the hot water on your skin. At some point he comes back in, and puts a fresh towel on the toilet seat. He stays for a few seconds more than strictly needed, and you do turn your ass towards him as a tease, the steam covering your smirk.

Done with the shower, you grab the fresh towel to dry yourself off. It's fluffy, soft and light orange. You want to pick up your clothes, but notice they are gone. In their place are a few other items: A small bottle of lube, a heavy steel butt-plug and a wide black collar. Nothing else.

You bit your lip. He did not leave any instructions, but it's pretty clear that if you don't do the obvious, it will just be disappointing for both. So you take the lube, and slather it on your butt and the plug, and work it in. He sure likes fat toys, you think to yourself, but with a bit of effort you get it in. It's heavy, and you clench your butt to hold it in place, which only makes it feel even bigger.

You put on the only piece of clothing you have, the collar, and then after a moment's consideration decide to leave the towel behind.

Completely naked, you step into the living room. It's terrifying, but also exciting. He gets up from the sofa and puts his phone away. He is smiling.

"Turn around," he orders, and you do.

"Bend over and spread your cheeks." You follow the order, exposing yourself completely to him. Showing him what a good girl you are, clean, plugged and already wet again.

You hear him opening his zipper, and breath catches in your throat. Just like this? You expected hours, if not days of foreplay before he'd allow you to enjoy the cock you've been longing for.

As it rubs over your pussy lips, you stifle a moan. You can't even see it, but the fantasy is just too hot. Naked, bent over, in the middle of a living room full of windows, with him in a suit fucking you from behind. It's nearly too much. 

But he keeps teasing you. Cock rubbing over your slit, but not even trying to enter. If it wasn't for his hands on your waist, you would probably fall over with how wobbly your knees have become.

"Not yet," he whispers. Both what you wanted and dreaded to hear.

He grabs you roughly, turns you around, pushes you against the wall, and shoves you down onto your knees. He is not much taller than you, but his confidence feels overpowering. Your mouth is open and your tongue out before he even says a word. He smiles at you from above, but your eyes are drawn to the hard cock in front of you. It glistens with your own wetness. You usually hate tasting it, but if it's on a cock you desire that does not matter.

He does not tell you to suck it. Instead he puts it on your lips, and presses forward. The back of your head hits the wall, leaving you no escape, no matter how deeply he wants to push. If he wants to make you gag, you can't stop him.

At first he moves slowly, giving you time to demonstrate your skills with your tongue. His cock is fat and hard as a rock, and you put your soul into giving him the best blowjob he's ever had. As you look at his face, his eyes are closed and he's breathing heavily. Then he grabs your head, and starts thrusting into you. Harder, deeper, faster. Using your mouth like just another hole, only there to be fucked. Spit dribbles down onto your chest, you have to fight your gag reflex, you try to concentrate on just breathing. He makes you work for every breath. You struggle.

You can feel him throb inside your mouth, swelling even bigger. As the cum hits the back of your throat, you moan, his orgasm giving you more pleasure than you thought possible. Some drips down out of your mouth, but you attempt to keep it all in your mouth. 

When he pulls out and staggers back, your mouth feels full to the brim with cum and spit. It's gross, but it turns you on to be treated like a toy sometimes. You don't even wait for an order to open your mouth carefully, and present what you collected.

He has already caught his breath again, and watches you intently. "Very good," he murmurs, "I'm sure you want to swallow it now?"

You eagerly nod. It's pungent, and the longer you wait, the harder it will be to get it all down.

"Later. Close your mouth, and stand up." You're taken aback by the order, but you comply. You struggle back onto your feet, back still against the wall.

"Spread your legs."

He sits down between them, and looks into your eyes. He might be below you now, but it certainly does not feel like you're in charge. One of his fingers plays between your pussy lips, and it makes you quiver in anticipation.

"You don't need to swallow yet. You can do that when you need to tell me that you're close, and that I should stop so I don't make you cum. Obviously you're not allowed to."

You just nod, lips pressed tightly together, as dropping cum from above onto his nice suit would make you hate yourself. By now you're sure he has dressed up just for you. You struggle with the taste and with the texture, every breath smelling of what you have in your mouth. It's a lovely awful sensation. You struggle even more when his lips find your clit. Where before he was all rough and authoritative, now he's gentle like a romantic lover. His tongue plays over your sex. His fingers find your delicate folds, teasing you. 

He does not even watch you, he is just focused on giving you pleasure. As much as possible, but still too little to really get you close. After a few frustratingly long minutes, you know it won't matter how horny and ready you were, how you thought it needed only a couple touches to climax. If he does not want you to, it won't be enough.

You struggle to reach an edge, you focus very hard on all the good things, and try to forget what's in your mouth, distracting you from that sweet, delicious edge just around the corner. When it's there, suddenly his pace quickens, and you start swallowing the goo in your mouth in big gulps, struggling to get it free so you can speak. You're so close, so painfully close, and you cannot afford to go over without permission. You struggle to keep it together, to hold back until your mouth is empty.

Finally, with your last breath you scream, "Please stop! Stop!" despite wanting to climax, denying yourself what you wanted most.

You struggle every moment, but you struggle beautifully.

2020-03-29 Blissful Torment