At Her Mercy - Sex Stories

At Her Mercy

I fought against the restraints, but the cuffs circling my wrists and ankles held me firm. Strands of my auburn hair clung to my face, which was damp with sweat. "Please, Jane, just give me a minute!" I begged.

I lay spread-eagled on Jane's bed while she knelt between my legs. When our eyes met, I marveled at the change in her. Outside this room, the forty-two-year-old woman was soft-spoken and gentle, her smile warm. I doubted anyone suspected she had a dominant side. Weighing about 175 pounds, Jane had very large breasts, and the t-shirt she wore tonight was stretched over them. If I stared hard, I thought I could make out her dark pink areolas through the thin white fabric. She had on sensible cotton panties, also white. Her wavy brown hair fell to her shoulders, and she brushed it back from her face. Her cheeks were flushed with her own arousal.

I was naked before her, my small breasts rising and falling with my shallow breaths. My frame was slender, bordering on skinny, and due to the stress of my job, I'd lost even more weight. My pussy, free of hair, was drenched. Jane had placed two fluffy towels beneath me, as she was well aware of my ability to squirt.

Despite my pleas, Jane again turned on the wand vibrator to its lowest setting. "No!" I whined. "Oh my God, my clit can't take any more!"

"I know what your clit can take, Esme," Jane said. She pressed the head of the vibrator between my thighs, and my back arched as if an electric current was coursing ...

... through me. I'd already come three times, the orgasms in such quick succession that I had no opportunity to recover.

Even as I writhed and moaned, I couldn't deny my profound satisfaction at being controlled. It was why I'd sought out someone like Jane in the first place. I was only twenty-five, but unlike many others my age, I valued my privacy and required discretion. Jane, also a professional, felt the same. We first chatted online and then met for coffee. I revealed to Jane my need to relinquish all autonomy. It was a need that grew desperate when the pressure of my job became too much.

As Jane now held the vibe against my tender, swollen clit, I felt yet another orgasm approaching. "It's too much!" I wailed.

"Don't fight it, baby," she coaxed. "You know you'll feel better if you just let go."

I could sense I was going to squirt with my next climax. Jane was right; I always struggled against that release, holding back. When an orgasm was that powerful, it brought on a total loss of control. My body was no longer my own, and while I hated that feeling, I also craved it.

"Stop!" I cried, but I didn't use the safe word. "Jane, I'll do whatever you want. Just turn off the vibrator, please!"

Jane gave me an amused smile, her eyebrow lifted. "What can you possibly do for me?"

"I'll suck your tits," I panted. I had no shame, not when I was on Jane's bed and at her mercy.

To my shock, Jane did turn off the vibe. I watched, wide-eyed, as she pulled the t-shirt ...