Shifting in my wheelchair, I turned one wheel, pivoting around. “Take me to bed.”
My man with his immaculate beard and broad shoulders lowered his eyes.
When we met, I was instantly drawn to the gentle quiet that radiated from him. The strength both physical and emotional pulled me in.
Stepping forward, he reached down to my chair, eyes fixed on mine, slid an arm under my thighs, hoisting me out the chair, and cradled me. Heat, heartbeat, and the scent of him filled me. Mine.
We turned and walked up the stairs. He snuggled me into his chest. “Mistress?”
“Yes, my love?” I watched him, but he stared straight ahead.
“Are you tired?”
“A little but no more than usual.”
A deliberate smirk ran up his mouth.
“What do you want?” I stroked the side his face as he set me on the bed.
He didn’t kiss me, but hovered, the need on his face as he took a breath. I denied him.
Curling my legs underneath me, I knelt.
“Hurt me.” His fevered whisper always made me laugh.
He did. Unbuttoning his shirt, he slipped it off, revealing his lovely body. His jeans followed and he was already hard when he slipped his underwear off, cock bouncing up as he did.
Kneeling on the floor so we were eye to eye, he leant into me. I slapped his face and he gripped the edge of the bed, eyes flickering with a smirk.
I did it again. He grasped his cock.
“Do not touch it.” I hit him again.
He grunted and grinned. “Fuck. Again.”
“I hope you’re not making demands of me?”
“Sorry Mistress, I just want you so much. I need your touch.”
Our mouths were so close, I salivated.
At twice my size, he could crush me, but he knew my fragility and his strength as he bowed to worship me.
His queen. Mistress.
His love was bigger than anything I’d known, and he gave me power.
“On your front.”
“You don’t have to, you can watch me.”
“I want to fuck you.”
His breath kicked up.
I tilted my head and sneered. “Strip me.”
He licked his lips and obeyed, carefully unwrapping me.
“I’m not made of glass.”
He set me on my back and ran his palm, rough from his job, from navel to neck, caressing me. His dick twitched and abs tensed. Curling his fist on my knickers, he pulled them down.
I opened my legs. “Look but don’t touch.”
He looked ravenous as he licked his lips. Sometimes I wondered who was in charge, the lines fuzzed with our dynamics.
I’m required to submit my physicality to others. To retain any independence, I must give some autonomy up. I give that to him, he welcomes it, but always at my command, I give him pain, and he demands it. We’re nothing if not complicated.
He smirked and leant over me. He had the power to crush me. With a gentle peck on my lips, he braced over me.
“Anything you want, Mistress.”
“Kneel on the bench, facing away from the bed.”
At the end of the bed was a blanket box, and as he positioned himself, I pulled out the box of delights from under the bed and the soft lengths of fabric we kept in there.
Although walking is difficult, I can a little, but my wellness varies, and I was feeling okay. I crawled along the floor until his dick was in my face.
“Shall I do my feet, Mistress?” He knelt proudly as he waited.
I tied each thigh to each ankle, then tied them off to the foot post either side of the bed, followed by his hands. He was spread for me. He struggled a little.
“Perfect. You are beautiful.”
I picked out the cock ring he liked and eased his balls through before pulling his cock through. He shouted and gritted his teeth. I’m not always kind, but he loves it.
“There.” I grinned, but he huffed, and I sucked his cock, pulling it tight into my mouth.
He cried out. Letting him go, I caressed him all over before giving his cock a sharp tap. He squirmed in his position, body straining.
I laughed, running a nail up the inside of his thigh. “Look at you, pathetic.”
He lowered his face, cheeks red, and a bead of moisture appeared at the tip of his dick. “Sorry Mistress.”
Crawling up, I moved behind him, and put my arm around his chest, kissing along his shoulder.
“What do you want?”
“Are you feeling generous, Mistress?”
I squeezed my hand to his throat, gently holding him in my grip. His head fell back.
“You forget yourself.”
He panted, and I pressed my fingers, making him struggle with a little smile. “Sorry, Mistress.” His hips undulated, rubbing his arse against me.
“I doubt you are.” I let go.
Out of the open case, I found and fastened the strap-on, and he moaned, knowing what was coming.
Kneeling close, I lubed the dildo, and between his cheeks before nudging in. This one was his favourite. Narrow at the tip with a wide base, it was long undulating and almost tongue-like.
He leant forward as much as he could, and I slid in. We were well practised. I made love to him. Lube everywhere because I loved it slippy, and his huge frame at my command. I undulated my hips up to him, feeling the strain on my thighs. This was as much as I could manage, and it was enough. Reaching around, I wanked him, hand firmly slipping up and down his cock.
His breath grew ragged and he shook, twitching.
I stopped and he worked his hips until I squeezed his neck again. He cried out.
“When I stop, we stop.”
I waited for him to calm, and I thrust again in long deep strokes, my fist working in tandem. He shook his head, desperate cries vibrating under my hand in his throat.
“Close,” he growled out. I went still and let his neck go, holding his chest and pressing into his back.
Slumping forward, he waited.
His strength became mine, and his submission always bolstered me. We both knew the consequences but it was part of our ritual. Our dance.
I moved again in shallow but harder thrusts and he screamed. As he pulled forward, back tensed, I knew he was reaching breaking point. Sweat beaded on his body.
I teased and stroked him.
He growled, and I laughed. It was time to let him play.
Withdrawing, I pulled the knot at one wrist, and then the other, and he moved like lightning.
His legs were free in seconds, and turning, he looked desperate and wild. I could only smirk and pin him with a glare as I fell back.
Crawling over me, he grabbed my hips and flipped us over. Hard fingers pinned my waist. The man actually snarled in desperation as he hitched his knees up and apart.
“Do you want me inside?” I cocked my head.
I slapped his face. “What?”
The deference returned. “I’m sorry, my Queen, please. Please.”
With a hum, I settled and pushed inside.
His cheeks flushed, face pinched. “Hurt me. I need it.”
I held his cock with one hand, but he grabbed my other hand and put it to his throat, resting my elbow on his chest.
I let him guide the pressure as he put his knees around me, urging me to fuck him.
I went at his pace, delighting as his eyes rolled back, mouth opened and head arched back. I squeezed.
Working his cock as I owned him, I relished his beauty. The masculine strength he exuded. The self-assurance he held in his sexuality was perfection. He twitched, shouted out, and came.
Letting go of his throat, I fell on him. His hands instantly holding me. He kept his legs tight and as I went limp, and ground me against him. Lube and cum everywhere, it worked under the strap-on.
He knew how to make me come, and it built quickly with my body slipping over his.
“Fuck, you feel good in me.”
Pleasure built, his responses still fresh, his need ever-present.
“Oh, I’m going to come again.”
His hands moved to my arse and he moved me, grinding in just the right way to get us both off.
I clung to him. Strength and muscle under me, his breath hard and heart pounding.
I moaned, spiralling upward and bucked into him.
“Yes.” He moved me faster, cock squashed between us and then hot liquid pulsed on my skin as he came again, and my orgasm rushed in me, long and deep.
We slumped in a sweaty tangle, my eyes already closing.
He slipped me out and cleaned us both up.
Exhausted, my muscles screamed but it was worth it.
He spooned me, kissing my hair and fell asleep almost instantly.
For a long time I lay in the dark, stroking his forearm, replaying what we shared, my pain throbbing and biting until exhaustion won out, and I slipped into dreams.
This was the price.
I’d barely move tomorrow; I know my body well. He’ll take care of me. His attentive submission in my reliance on him is nuanced. Beautiful. I’d love to live without pain, yet what we share is without parallel and I’d not change it for anything.