Don’t move: a new game with my silver fox

6 min read

“Don’t move or I’ll bend you over and spank your bare ass until you beg me to stop.”

The warning is redundant. With my ankles shackled to a spreader bar and my wrists cuffed behind my back, any movement makes me teeter precariously on my high heels; but it’s Angela’s steely gaze that fixes me to the spot. My thighs are shaking with the effort of remaining motionless, but I’m determined not to let my discomfort show on my face. Something tells me it’s going to be a long afternoon.

I only stopped by Angela’s place to return some books on art history I’d borrowed. I wouldn’t have risked it if I’d realized her regular ‘slave’ Isla was out of town. Bored and horny with no outlet for her sexual frustration, Angela is like a coiled snake, ready to strike when I show up unawares.

Angela stopped trying to mold me into the perfect sub a while ago. I’ve always enjoyed our kinky games, but I’m too rebellious to take it seriously, and it was a relief to both of us when she replaced me with Isla, who is a genuine submissive. But it’s a measure of the power Angela still holds over me that when she chooses to focus that laser-like attention on me, I find it impossible to resist. Hence I find myself naked except for my heels; restrained, curious, aroused, trepidatious… what the hell does she have in store for me?

Circling me like a predator, surveying me for any sign of weakness, Angela makes me wait until I’m ready to beg her to do something, anything, just to break the tension. Then it starts: a slap to my ass. Another, harder, making my flesh sting. She moves close to me, kissing my neck, then biting. Stroking my hair, then tugging it, hard. Tweaking my nipple. I know this game, I think to myself, though I’m careful to keep my expression impassive. Angela has played hard and soft, tormentor and comforter many times before with me. She won’t break me with this. My biggest challenge is maintaining my balance, the spreader bar keeping my feet placed so I can’t adjust my posture as she teases me.

She seems a little frustrated by my lack of response. “A good slave must always show gratitude for punishment from her Mistress,” that’s one of her rules. Well, she’ll have to push harder to make me cry out today.

She kisses me roughly and then licks a slow path down my neck, over my chest — nipping at each nipple for good measure — then down over my stomach to my crotch. With the bar keeping my thighs spread, my pussy wet and open in a way that would be humiliating if Angela hadn’t already broken down that particular mental barrier, her tongue has access to every inch of my slippery, succulent flesh. But now I realize she’s not going to lick me the way I want, the way she knows I need it to get off. She’s well aware I need G-spot stimulation to make me orgasm, and so she deliberately licks all around my lust-plumped cunt lips, and laps gently, way too gently, at my clit, driving me crazy with frustration. I can’t climax like this, can’t grind against her to increase the pressure without toppling over, and won’t beg. Now I’m starting to understand the point of this infernal spreader bar…

More fool me for believing I could second-guess Angela. I should know better by now. The teasing is not the point of this game; she’s just preparing me, making sure I’m well lubricated for what is to come. She knows exactly how to make me squirm. She doesn’t know everything about me, though…

Rising to her feet, smoothing out the creases in her expensive skirt with a distracted frown, Angela rings the small silver bell on the side table. Usually this summons Isla, but I know Isla isn’t here.

I’m taken aback when an elegant, older gentleman walks into the room, although not as surprised as he is when he sees me standing there, naked, shackled and dripping wet.

“Edward, I believe you’ve met Rose before,” Angela says formally, as if she were introducing guests at a cocktail party. And indeed, we have met several times at Angela’s gatherings; but apparently she is unaware that we know each other very well indeed. Edward is my Silver Fox, a regular, beloved and very discreet sexual partner.

Our eyes meet in silent agreement: let’s pretend we barely know each other.

Let the game begin.

“How nice to meet you again, Rose,” Edward says politely. His mild tone is contradicted by the way his eyes rake hungrily over my body. Our encounters have always been pleasant dates, dinner or a fun little outing followed by sweet and satisfying but quite vanilla sex. We’ve never played like this before.

I’m about to reply, but Edward puts his finger to my lips. “No speaking,” he says sternly. “Keep your mouth shut, unless my cock’s in it.”

It crosses my mind that he wants to shut me up I case I inadvertently give away our familiarity, but it’s a turn on to have him speak so masterfully to me nonetheless. Who knew my considerate lover had such a brutal side?

Edward takes his time to scrutinize me, taking in the stiffness of my nipples, the wetness glossing my thighs. I can feel Angela’s eyes on us both, so I force myself to stay absolutely motionless, even though I’m shivering with arousal, aching to be touched. Edward is very skilled with his fingers and I know his firm but sensitive touch could get me there in moments. That’s not how it’s going to be today, though.

He undresses slowly and methodically, folding his clothes neatly over the back of a chair. Angela’s face is unreadable. To the best of my knowledge she is a gold star lesbian who has never even touched a man sexually (and she doesn’t let Isla fuck guys either) but she seems to have no problem with taking a ringside seat at the show as Edward comes close to me, fist wrapped around his rigid cock. The familiar sight of his body, in great shape for a man of his age, dusted with salt-and-pepper chest hair, makes me want to reach out and embrace him; but of course I can’t move, and dare not speak.

I’m expecting more foreplay, more teasing. Instead, Edward stands in front of me, lining up the head of his cock at the entrance to my spread pussy, not quite touching me. My high heels add several inches to my height, so he only needs to stoop slightly to get into position; then he straightens up, hands gripping my ass cheeks to hold me steady as he thrusts up into me.

BAM! With that one forceful thrust, I think he’s actually fucked my brains out. I’m seeing stars, my synapses short-circuiting as every molecule of my body joins in a silent scream of pained pleasure. His cock feels so big, entering me without any penetration by tongue or finger as a precursor. It’s a shockingly rapid stretch, made possible only because I’m dripping wet, and I bite my lip hard to stop myself yelling.

He pulls out a fraction, slams home again. His eyes meet mine for a millisecond, just to confirm that I’m okay, darting away immediately, before Angela notices. And I am okay, I’m suddenly, deliriously, gloriously more than okay, I feel the blissful sensations swooping and swirling and blossoming through my whole body as I stand there, powerless to do anything except try to keep my balance as I’m held and used like a toy.

I can’t grip or grind or thrust back, I’m not fucking, just being fucked, and the feeling of utter surrender lets me focus on my own pleasure without interruption. And now the true agony and ecstasy of the spreader bar dawns on me. I want to wrap my legs around Edward’s back, to control the angle, to make his cock drag and slide over my G-spot with each thrust. Instead I’m totally at his mercy; and it’s that absence of control, as much as the wave after wave of powerful sensation crashing over me, that’s driving me wild.

After a while my thighs are shaking and clenching so crazily I can barely stand.

“Bring that chair closer,” Edward orders Angela gruffly. She does as she’s told without comment; another first. Edward spins me around and bends me over the back of the armchair, plunging straight back inside me without respite. Now he doesn’t hold back at all, fucking me with the vigor of a man half his age, gripping and slapping my ass, reaching around to rub my clit, every stroke stirring up a fresh burst of searing pleasure. I’m soon gasping, moaning, yelling out his name, my vow of silence abandoned.

Pinioned and spread open, defenceless and feverish with bliss, I feel my pussy start to flutter and clench spasmodically around his driving cock as my climax hits me. With one final, hard thrust he’s buried deep, filling me up with his hot cum, prolonging the shudders of my orgasm as I feel his cock bucking inside me.

After a long pause while we catch our breath, Edward withdraws slowly and carefully. I feel our mingled cum gushing out, trickling down my thighs. Without needing to be told, I turn, crouch — not easy with my ankles still spread apart by the bar — and lick his wilting cock clean. He tastes salty-sweet, delicious.

I’d almost forgotten Angela was there, but now Edward turns to her and says mildly, “Angela, your guest needs cleaning up. I suggest you use your tongue.”

Red-faced, agitated, clearly fighting her urge to masturbate — she won’t demean herself in front of a man — Angela is a hot mess.

“I will not,” she snaps, almost comically torn between her desire to touch me, and her distaste at the idea of licking his cum from my drenched pussy.

“Then you may leave the room,” Edward says.

Angela looks outraged, but says nothing as she storms out. I have to bite my lip and look away so I don’t laugh.

“You know Angela will never forgive you for that,” I say as Edward gently releases my ankles from the bar, uncuffs my wrists and rubs them tenderly, kissing and cuddling me lovingly.

“No, I dare say she won’t,” he replies drily, massaging my arms and legs to get the blood flowing. I’m so wobbly he virtually carries me into the bathroom, my gentle and attentive lover once more, no discernible trace remaining of the dominant stud I just experienced.

We shower together using Angela’s fancy toiletries, get dressed and head out to dinner and a movie. There’s no sign of Angela as we leave. I imagine she’s up in the master suite, lying on her bed frigging herself senseless over what she just witnessed.

Thanks for reading! Applause, comments and follows get me hot 😉

More confessions from me here — if you think you can handle it! Maybe have a cold shower first…

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