Are You Fingering Me? #MasturbationMonday

It started with a suggestive text.

‘Are you fingering me? ”

I asked, in response to a bright yellow emoticon of a middle finger.

“You started it!”

And to be fair, I had. I’m quite a brat, truth be told.

I didn’t realise how quickly I’d regret my cheek.

Turns out that Sir has a good memory when it comes to me being naughty.

He didn’t let on until he had me naked and cuffed, hands above my head, ankles spread wide and held there.
I was expecting many things but not for him to lie next to me, paying no heed to rumpling his suit. He rested his head on my shoulder and his hand across my waist.

He didn’t move or speak. I was very aware of my nakedness, my bonds and my vulnerability. I waited. Not patiently, but I waited.

“Do you remember that photo you sent the other day?”

“Which one?” I asked, “the boob one or… Oh.”

Realisation hit as he held his hand before my face, one finger raised.

“The one before you fingered me. Yes, I remember it.” I giggled cheekily.

“Good. Keep remembering how you disrespected me. Keep that in mind.”

He rested his hand on my stomach, gently caressed lower, down to my open thigh.

I groaned at the light fluttering of his fingers across my inner thigh and gasped when they made contact with my cunt.
” Soaked already.” He said, matter of factly. That dismissive tone turned me on all the more. “You are such a slut.”

He knows what that word does to me. It presses my buttons, makes me blush and he knows I love it.
His fingertips slipped down over my clit and between my lips. I pressed up, wanting him to play with my clit. To make me come.
I knew it wouldn’t be that simple, though.

He pressed lower, the very end of just one finger pushed inside me and stayed there. Still.
“What are you?” He whispered against my ear.
“A slut.”
He pressed deeper.
“What are you?” he asked again.
Your slut, Sir.”
He slid the finger fully inside me.
“Yes you are.”
He kissed me, hard and fast and with pent up passion exploding between us as he fingered me. For real this time. Filling me, more fingers joining the first, rocking in and out. His suit cuff tickled against my pussy as I felt his hardness through the cotton against my thigh. I was overwhelmed, consumed by the thrusting. Completely at his mercy, totally aware of his power over me.

“Listen,” He whispered, “listen to how wet you are.”

I could hear it. My pussy squelched with every movement forward and back. The noise so base and visceral, my cheeks heated in embarrassment as my body filled with lust.

“Can you hear it?” He fucked his fingers deeper into me, the noise of my cunt louder than the squeal from my mouth.

“Yes,” I gasped.

“You like it, don’t you?” He asked, pressing harder against my side as he fingered me.

“Yes,” I squeaked, as his thumb skimmed over my clit.

“Tell me, in detail, what exactly do you like?”

And then I realised. This was his revenge.

“Oh God, all of it.” I groaned, squirming against his hand and my bonds, so close to orgasm I could taste it.

“No,” He held his hand completely still. “That’s not what I asked for.”

I whimpered, I had been so close, I was so desperate. How was I meant to think and form sentences?

“I like your fingers inside me,” I searched my mind for more words, “I like how they fill me, how they make me wet.”

He slowly moved his fingers inside me.

“I love the noise it makes, showing how wet I am.”

He kept the movement frustratingly slow. I knew he wanted more.

“How I’m bound,” I gasp, desperately, “how I’m spread-eagled for you, how I’m under your complete control.”

His thumb pressed back against my vulva and the flash of electric lust took my breath but I did my best to continue to think and talk for fear of him stopping again.

“I love how I’m naked and you’re dressed.” I panted, his hand moving faster again. “I feel like such a slut and that turns me on.”

I had to think of more to say but it was so difficult with his fingers inside me, his thumb on my clit.

“I love it, I love it.” I chanted.

“What do you love?” He whispers in my ear.

“This,” I thrust against his hand, worried it will stop. “Your power over me,” I groaned, my legs quaked as the bubbling arousal reached boiling point.

“You!” I exclaimed as the orgasm burst. The word screamed from my lips and undulated in the air as the ecstasy rippled and ran through all of me.

“Good girl.” He whispered. “Don’t finger me without permission again you hear me? Or next time I won’t let you come.”

“Yes, Sir.” I replied with a cheeky smile. “I’ll ask first.”

This is a work of fiction, based on a real life inspiration. However, it is true, I am a bit of a Brat :p