Welcome to Part 2 of our ongoing story. If you missed Part 1, you'll find it in our archives. But to get you started, here's where we left off last time.
"Have a suck," [Andre] said wickedly. "Either of you." He pulled the end of the girl's tit from side to side, first towards me and then towards Eric. Shoulders back, that hussy was thrusting it towards us proudly. We both declined. I was infuriated because I still thought Andre wanted Eric to turn me into that sort of slave. I thought he was implying that Eric should share me and make me available to Andre the way he was making [Nita] available to us...
Now on to part 2:
Now, Eric kisses my feet and turns his face sideways to rest that same cheek across the tops of my feet.
“Good game tonight, hey?” I said backing away from him and sitting on the couch.
“What did you think of your teammates?”
He didn’t respond. I knew he wanted to stay in sub space, and that it was torture to drag his other self out when he was on his knees, but part of the fun is a domme’s prerogative to make her boy do things he doesn’t want to do all that much. And for Eric, scratching him with his vanilla self was like nails down his emotional back.
“Kneel up and talk to me,” I insisted. He didn’t rise right away. But I waited. His eyes looked sleepy when he rose. “What do you want to talk about?”
“You’re bordering on rude, now,” I warned him.
“It’s just that it's hard for me to –"
"I wasn't planning on a punishment, tonight. But it could be arranged."
"Sorry," he said simply.
"Gotta do hard things sometimes," I quipped. “You don’t get to run the show, remember?”
"The game was exhausting, to answer your question."
"Go on."
"I overplayed."
"Made mistakes…"
"I'm kind of tired, Vanessa. I’ll give you the whole rundown later. I promise."
"No. Now. One more protest and I will punish you."
He took a deep breath, and started in. I cut him off ‒ nasty bitch that I am. “Unzip your fly and open your pants while you’re talking to me so I can watch those tight whites covering your dick and monitor your arousal.
He unzipped and pulled the pants crotch apart. Stretching the flaps outward, he let them hang just over his hips. And he didn’t get back to his story right away.
“You’re not done telling me about the game,” I said.
“I don’t really like talking about that… you know what I
mean…like this."
"And that earns you a punishment. What you say from here on out determines how cruel a punishment. Now get talking."
Tonight I wanted to make him deal with it, kneeling there half-naked talking about what a hero he is on the court. As much as he half hated mixing worlds, it made him hard, made his sub personality swell.
He spoke slowly, all about the rookies, about so many things that had gone on at once. As he talked, I realized for the first time what kind of attention you have to pay when you’re basically coaching and playing at the same time.
He kept his eyes down when he spoke, the way Nita had the day we first learned about, and then got hooked on, the D/s lifestyle. He also had that same downcast expression when Andre gave Nita a spanking right in front of us. Pushed her against the wall, told her to jut out her ass -- the position had a number, which I forget -- and took his hand to the small fleshy sweet spot of her bare ass. He went back and forth from one cheek to the other with these sideswiping stingers, pushing against her back with his free hand. His strokes were in swift succession. His thick, long, black hands whipping against her pale skin, again and again in two narrow patches on her cheeks until she started to cry. I was horrified but excited.
Eric's talking; he's in the middle of recapping a foul he made and I tell him to strip before he finishes the story. He pauses again, taken a little by surprise. His compromised look gets me hot. I get a thrill out of these little change-ups that won’t let him fall into habit. Granted it's no whip lash across the back of his shoulders. But sometimes I don’t need all the work and drama in order to feel that dominant rush in my nads. Sometimes it's the simple things. After a beat, to readjust to how the game is going to be played, he lets his loosened jeans fall to the floor. He hooks his thumbs in his briefs and gives me a sort of “last chance” look, like I might change my mind.
“OK, now tell me how you fouled, as you’re pulling your underwear slowly down your legs, and look at me the whole time you’re talking to me. Hear?”
"Yes."
We don’t do ma’am and mistress and all that. I don’t want him to submit because I become something else; I want him to submit because. Because it's time to. "I slammed him below the waist," he starts to say as he slides his white skivvies across the soft black hair of his bush.
“Where below the waist? -- point it out,” I say. Of course, I was at the game. I’d seen it, a kind of hip check. He touches his ass with the tips of his fingers. It is a perfect and tight ass with fine, light hairs.
“Thought the ref would miss it, eh?” I ask, nodding at his underwear. “Talk while you undress,” I repeat. He takes hold of his thick cock to free it from the cotton. “It was kind of unconscious, actually,” he says. He's pushing the underwear down his thighs -- still looking me in the eyes -- to his knees, and just below where it can fall freely.
“You can stand up to undress,” I say, “but keep talking."
Even our second dinner at Andre and Nita's, which was after Eric had told me he wanted to be the submissive and he wanted me to play Andre's role, I still met the couple's demonstrations with ambivalence. Andre had made Nita strip for us. Strip while singing some old song called "My Man," about a guy who was a real prick and her singing "whatever my man is, I am his, forever more." As she sang, Andre called out orders like "touch your breasts," and she would, while singing some line about her man being rough or rude or whatever. "Roll your nipples between your fingers."
I've since come to realize what an exhibitionist slut Nita is, but at the time, I didn't get it at all. When Andre had her lift up her leg and open her pussy, still singing, I just about couldn't bear it. I mean I couldn't stop watching, but my skin was crawling, too. Eric took it all in, and kept looking over at me. And then something started happening. As Andre put on his rich voice to give orders, I started trying those lines on for size, picturing myself saying them. I started taking notes on what I would do and say, if I had Eric against the wall like that. When Andre slapped Nita's ass, I started to take mental notes, and images of striking Eric's ass, or handcuffing his arms wide against the wall, or grabbing his nuts while I got up in his face to growl ultimatums the way Andre did to Nita. "Now turn around and grab your ankles for the audience," Andre said to this lean, beautiful naked girl. "Cavity search."When Eric takes that posture, he's all bulging hamstrings and ripping gluteals. I sometimes do the cavity search, enter him with three or four fingers, stroke his soft sponge until he moans, sometimes interrogating him when I'm inside him or as I stretch him open. But other times I don't enter him at all. Always when he's bent over, I spend a good deal of time running my hands along the very top of the soft fur that graces his skin without actually touching him. Just to let him know I'm right on it, that I have access, that I could do something severe at any time. And it gives him goose bumps.
"Play with your pussy in front of our guests," Andre had ordered. "Play for real; finger your little nut until your body goes weak and they can see how red you get." Nita touched her clit, threw her head back against the wall, opened her legs wider and moaned. As her body shivered from her own finger pressure, her breasts bounced...
[to be continued]
