With his fingers locked around my wrist I pad along behind him in puzzlement, obeying his command to. “Come on pup…” What’s he doing? Why are we going in here?
The light from the hallway illuminates the room, bouncing off the pink sparkly carpet underfoot and the shiny pole in the centre. I’ve already told him I won’t be dancing for him yet, though negotiations are underway, so why has he led me to my pole dancing studio?
All becomes obvious when he deliberately places me in front of the wall of mirrors. Moving behind me and lifting my top to expose my breasts he tells me how fucking hot I look in the reflection.
“I love watching you in the mirror. So fucking hot. You like watching yourself, don’t you?” He pins my arms behind me to allow easy access to abuse my breasts, squeezing, digging his fingers in, kneading the delicate skin and pinching my nipples hard.
I watch him watching our reflection, running his hands all over me, lavishing me with compliments on my soft skin and curves. Delighting at my reaction every time his attention hurts, each squeeze that’s uncomfortably tight, each time his teeth find my skin, and when his fingers close around my neck for a moment. Even in the dim light I can see the arousal in his eyes.
Being this close I’m face to face with my own reactions, the expressive, obvious arousal that spurs him on all the more. Mouth open, gasping, panting and rocking my hips, grinding against his hardness, encouraging the almost frantic motion of his hands.
He touches every inch of me, teasingly pressing hard against my cunt then swiftly moving away. An achingly brief torment of each of my trigger points, my arousal surging upwards until I’m a panting puppy, devoid of words.
My whimpering is muffled as he pushes his fingers into my mouth, sliding them against my tongue as lubrication to force them inside my underwear and into my cunt.
“You’re so fucking hot; you know? Such a fucking hot porn star. But you know that, you’re watching yourself.”
“I’m watching you” I reply. I’m watching his fingers firing in and out of my cunt, his other hand firm against my neck, elbow locked, holding me in place, up on my tiptoes.
“I love to see you bucking your hips. Fucking my fingers, you’re fucking me right now. You’re watching yourself fuck my fingers” His words encouraging my movement.
Turning me around he flicks light spanks against my behind, all the while still watching in the mirror, pulling my spooky patterned panties up to free more flesh for his strikes.
Using a firm grip around my neck he pushes me backwards to look into my eyes and give me a chance to work for his attention. “Do you want those fingers back in your cunt? Do you? Buck your hips for me if you want those fingers”
But my desires have been peaked elsewhere, the tease of light impact on my behind has me craving more. “I want you to spank me” I request. He turns his head with a look of ‘Oh really?’ and gives me the words I need, the detail to plead for my desire.
“I want you to spank me, please” I parrot his words back at him, desperately trying to keep eye contact and not squirm away with embarrassment. My request is rewarded; spanking one side, repeatedly until I whimper, then the other, reddening the skin. Firm strokes that hurt so good.
Turning me back around he slaps my breasts hard. The movement surprises me and I fight to keep my hands out of the way. “Look at you trying to protect yourself” he mocks. It’s not good enough.
“Come here, back against the pole” he pins my arms above my head, fingers wrapped around the pole, pulling me up onto tiptoes by my nipples. Jamming his fingers first into my mouth to moisten them, then into my underwear. His other arm wrapped around my back holding me solid. Acting as human restraints, his warmth strength a turn-on.
He trusts me to hold still whilst he hurts me. He loves to hurt me. Watching himself in the mirror. Watching my reactions too, both seeing and feeling my response as he punches me in the stomach and slaps my breasts. “I can feel your cunt clenching each time I hurt you” Another step on his determined quest to give me an association between pain and orgasm.
I grimace and struggle but I’m held firm. Bringing down my arms as protection is quickly corrected, hands pinned back in place, fingers back wrapped around the pole.
The sound of wetness gives away my orgasm before it hits me. I whimper and whine and try to resist but it’s too late. He talks me through, calling me “Filthy puppy, filthy puppy…. filthy puppy” louder and louder each time in my ear until his voice is above normal speaking level, the hotness of those words spoken aloud, clear and determined in my ear, echoing around the empty room. It’s too much, it’s so fucking hot.
I watch myself, I watch him watching me, as my reflection and I flood the floor.