The Request - My story...
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The Request - My story...

Part two of a blog that was written by one of my blog readers which is too good not to share... The request a short erotic sorry this time for my side of the story...

KRISTINA’S STORY

It’s not unusual for a client to be nervous when meeting me for the first time. Not because I’m a frightening ogre – far from it! – but because he’s never visited someone like me before. Someone – dare I say it – who can make his dreams come true.

This particular client is a case in point. He's emailed me twice, made it clear what he wants – in a roundabout sort of way – but confesses to some fear in fixing a date. I tell him not to worry. That many of my clients feel just the same and he isn’t being silly. He's being honest, very sweet, and I hope he'll give me the chance to turn his fantasy into reality.

He’s sitting opposite me now, nursing a cup of tea and looking as if he’s been called into the headmistress’s office for a good spanking. Which I’d be happy to administer, except that that’s not why he’s here. He wants something else.

What he wants, he tells me, is for me to sit on his face. Only he doesn’t really want that, even though he really does. It sounds confusing, I know, but it’s not. His dearest fantasy – like many men who come to see me – is to have me take control and punish him in a way that he’ll pretend to find unpleasant but, deep down, longs for with all his heart.

He’s outlined a script, which he sent to me by email. I like a client’s script because it’s a good starting point – but a really yummy fantasy, both for me and a client, is one that grows in the telling. A sexual improvisation, if you will.

And that’s what will happen today. Some of his ideas will meet with some of my ideas and, because the end result is not what he has planned it should, I hope, be all the more exciting for both of us.

He’s an enemy agent, captured by my people and questioned for weeks on end. He’s a tough cookie, though, and they can get nothing out of him. That’s when they send for me … to break him with my body.

While fully dressed myself, I get him to strip naked, after which I secure him to a bed, his arms and legs stretched wide. It’s vital he can’t defend himself, that he’s as helpless as a new-born kitten.

Oh, the poor dear. How he’s going to suffer once I get to work on him. (In the nicest possible way, of course!)

The moment I have him properly secured, I leave the room and change into my ‘working clothes’. He’s left the decision to me and I’m sure he won’t be disappointed. A little black basque, sheer stockings and suspenders. And to top it all off, a tiny pair of lace panties, a size too small so that they cling lovingly to the obvious swell of my ‘naughty bits’. (That’s wicked of me, I know – but I can’t help it!)

When I enter the room and he looks up, I can see my decision was correct. From the way his eyes sparkle and his body wriggles, it’s clear that – just as he had imagined in his dreams – he’s torn between excitement and fear. Oh, how delicious!

‘My name is Captain Kristina,’ I inform him, ‘and I am here to interrogate you. Are you ready to speak?’

When he looks back at me, it’s with an air of defiance that is as real as it can be. He has thrown himself into the game and I couldn’t be more delighted.

‘I’ll never betray my friends,’ he insists, though I notice he shivers as his gaze drops between my legs and fixes on the swell of my pussy. I think about turning around and showing him my rear end. But there will be time enough for that, I remind myself.

‘Very well,’ I announce as I reach out and take hold of his cock. I rub it quickly into life. He groans as if trying to resist me, but it’s a pointless struggle and, in no time at all, he is fully erect. I tell myself he’ll be putty in my hands – and giggle at the almost literal truth.

‘Tell me everything you know,’ I ask quietly, ‘and I’ll empty your balls.’

‘Never!’ he screams. ‘You won’t break me with your hand!’

‘Oh, I think I will,’ I answer, and rub him a little faster. ‘Every man begs me to spill him. In the end…

‘I can’t,’ he hisses, through clenched teeth. ‘Too many lives depend on me.’

I lean in close and give a wicked chuckle. ‘You haven’t got a chance,’ I warn him. ‘Surrender to me now … and I might even fuck you.’ (I’ll confess I hadn’t planned to say that but, just then, it seemed so natural.)

‘Go to hell,’ he snaps at me (and I have to applaud him for his acting ability – he almost sounds as if he means it). ‘I’m not betraying my friends … however much you pleasure me!’

I can’t help but smile at the prospect of giving him a thoroughly extensive edging. There’s something rather delicious about taking a man to the brink again and again but not quite tugging him over. (If you’ll pardon the imperfect pun.)

‘I’m going to take you the edge of joy,’ I whisper. ‘One little jerk away from coming.’ I tilt my head and give him a little smile. Much like a cobra might smile at its prey before biting it in the neck. I want him to be excited – but just a tad fearful, too. Deep down, it’s what he longs for, after all.

‘You’ll want it so badly,’ I say teasingly. ‘To empty yourself into my hand. For me to drain your balls …

‘Please, no!’ he cries and wriggles like a landed fish.

‘You want to come!’ I yell at him in my most imperious tone. (I love to act the part – it adds to the delight for both of us!) ‘You want to come so badly, don’t you? You want to spill your load!’

He throws his head from side to side and pushes his cock through the channel of my fingers. I immediately slacken my hold on his shaft, denying him the friction I know he must long for.

‘Tell me what I want to know,’ I demand, ‘and I’ll make you happy with my hand …’

‘I can’t! Please! I can’t!’ he whimpers miserably. I’m pumping him gently at this point. Fast enough to keep him aroused, but not so fast as to run any risk of bringing him off. ‘I can’t betray my friends!’

‘Then you leave me no choice,’ I reply, sliding my fingers to the base of his shaft and giving his balls a little jiggle. They’re fat and solid now, and I know that he’s ready to burst. He pushes up with his cock and moans again at the pointlessness of it all. The poor dear really does want to come in a big way and we’ve only been going for a few minutes.

It’s time for me to pump up the pressure.

‘I know your weakness,’ I whisper. ‘I know what frightens you.’ My hand tightens around his cock as he gives another little thrust. ‘I know how to break you with my body …

I lean in close and breathe warm air against his cheek. I’m about to say something he hasn’t scripted for me – but I feel in my bones it’s what he wants to hear.

‘I have a hole in my bottom,’ I whisper crudely. ‘A tiny little hole...’

It’s a delight to watch his jaw drop low and his eyes form big bright pennies of delight. He recovers himself quickly. He’s meant to be frightened, after all!

‘Do you want to see it?’ I ask excitedly. (I’m running on auto-pilot now!) ‘Do you want to look at my anus?’

‘No, I fucking don’t!’ he screams, and throws himself from side to side. I have to remind myself that he’s still acting. (Or at least I hope he is!)

‘Of course you don’t,’ I murmur carelessly. ‘Because it frightens you, doesn’t it? That tiny little hole a woman keeps inside her bottom…’

Releasing his cock, I step back and hook my fingers into the waistband of my knickers. (I put them on last of all, so they’re over my suspender belt. A little forward thinking never goes amiss!) Wickedly, I slide them down, exposing the delights beneath, and toss them aside.

A moment later, I’m kneeling on the bed, straddling his chest with my back towards his face.

Though I’m pretty sure my butt is open, I reach behind and tug at a buttock, ensuring him an exquisitely clear view of my anus.

‘Can you see my wicked hole?’ I inquire casually. ‘Can you see the darling little opening into my bottom?’

‘Please don’t do this to me,’ I hear him mutter and there’s a definite trembling in his voice. ‘Take it away, Kristina, please … take it away!

‘If you want me to take it away,’ I answer flatly, ‘then tell me what I want to know. Tell me the names of your fellow-agents.’

He throws his head from side to side, sobbing freely. ‘I can’t!’ he cries. ‘Oh, please! I can’t!’

‘Enough of this nonsense!’ I respond and lower my bottom so that my anus is positioned directly over his nose …

‘What are you doing? Please!’ he whimpers. ‘This is wrong! Please! This is wrong!’

‘It’s up to you,’ I inform him. ‘Tell me what I want to know … or I’ll rub my little hole all over you.’ (I’m really loving this, I have to say!) ‘And then I’ll make you kiss it…’

‘God help me, someone!’ he cries and I can tell from his voice that he really is sobbing. ‘Don’t sit on my face, please! Don’t make me kiss your little hole!’

‘It’s your decision,’ I remind him bluntly. ‘Give me the names of all your contacts … or I’ll smother you!’

‘I can’t!’ he sobs miserably. ‘God help me, I can’t!’

‘Then you leave me no choice,’ I announce with what I hope is dreadful finality. I lower my bottom again … and wrap his squealing face between my buttocks.

Written by one of my blog readers who kindly gave me permission to share..

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