Behave, Bitch

I poke my tongue out at him.

I don’t know why; he’s just sitting on the sofa opposite and reading his newspaper, silently, minding his own business. He’s frowning, his brow creased as he catches up on the latest horrors taking place in Westminster. The current shit-show that is UK politics makes him grouchy. And when he’s grouchy, I find him even sexier than usual. Needless to say, then, that in recent weeks I’ve been in a near-constant lather of sweat and arousal as his transformation into Grumpy Bear has continued apace.

His salt-and-peppery hair is all messy and sticking up at funny angles, that early morning dishevellment that makes me want to laugh at first, and then makes me want to run my fingers through it and grip it in trembling hands while he buries his face between my thighs and devours me frantically.

He hasn’t shaved, and he probably won’t today. It’s the weekend, and he’s “switched off” for a couple of days. I always find his facial scruff sexy, and enjoy the scratch and burn of the sharp bristle against my skin.

His eyelids are still a bit puffy from sleep. Neither of us are morning people, and although it’s nearly midday it may as well be 6am as far as we’re concerned. But I’ve just finished an entire cafetiere of Colombian roast on my own – (he’s still nursing the same cup of English Breakfast Tea I made for him earlier)- and now I’m waking up with a vengeance.

I’m feeling cheeky. Naughty. I want his attention. So I stick my tongue out and wait for his response.

There’s nothing for the first five minutes or so. I don’t think he’s even noticed that I’ve been staring at him, so engrossed he is in his reading. But when he moves onto the next article, he shuffles the paper slightly and momentarily raises his eyes. I see the recognition cross his face, but he then returns to the news and carries on ignoring me.

I don’t know why I’m feeling so bratty. All the caffeine, perhaps, combined with how mouth-wateringly sexy he looks right now. There’s a pulse building in between my legs, and when I realise that he’s deliberately playing with me, making me wait for him, I feel a trickle of wetness seep from my cunt and dampen the crotch of my cotton knickers.

Long minutes pass, and still he ignores me.

I put my tongue back in and pout, folding my arms over my chest and making a deliberately audible “humpfh” noise. He doesn’t react. I clear my throat loudly. Nothing. I giggle playfully.

He raises his eyes and looks at me sternly for a moment. I poke my tongue out again and give him a cheeky smirk. Deadpan, he lowers his eyes and returns to the paper.

“Why?” he asks, disinterestedly, as he pretends to carry on reading. Oh, he’s so good at this. Building my frustration, torturing me with his cool nonchalance when he knows full well what it does to me.

“Hmmm?” I reply, pretending not to know what he means.

“Why are you being naughty?”

“Cos I want to.”

He fixes me with a look of the disappointed disciplinarian. “Now that’s not really an acceptable answer, is it Jess?”

I giggle like a contumacious schoolgirl. I want him to discipline me, want him to play the stern school master.

I want him to put me in my place. Hard.

He sighs and folds up the newspaper, setting it aside.

“Come over here, Jess.”

It’s an order. The bossy voice. But I poke my tongue out and simper at him playfully. He doesn’t smile. Doesn’t blink.

Now!”

“Or else what?” I giggle. He stands and walks over to me, grabs me by the hand, and pulls me to my feet. With an angry look, he places his finger under my chin and snaps my face up so I’m meeting his eyes directly.

Don’t you dare answer me back, young lady.”

He slaps my cheek. Not hard, but with a quick and assertive swipe.

“Yessir,” I mumble, averting my eyes downward. With his whole hand, he grips my jaw and and forces me to look at him. My insides turn to liquid as his ferocious eyes burn into mine. There’s part of me that wants to laugh and kiss him, but I can see that he’s right in character and it really fucking excites me.

“Lift up your skirt and pull down your panties. Right now.”

“Yes, Sir.”

He holds my jaw firm, forcing me to look in his eyes while I obediently yank my skirt up around my waist, grip the waistband of my underwear and manoeuvre them down to my knees. He looks at me so sternly, and so hungrily, that my cunt immediately drips, a wet stream sliding down from between my labia and slicking my inner thighs.

I moan his name. I can’t stop myself.

“Shhh!” he commands, and then forcefully turns me around and bends me forward, placing my hands on the back of the armchair.

“You clearly need to be taught how to behave,” he drawls, running his right hand over my naked bottom and preparing the flesh for his smacks. I can’t wait for his chastisement. And he knows it.

“I can smell your cunt, you naughty little bitch,” he growls, and slips his fingers between my legs. He teases the damp folds of my pussy. My legs shudder slightly as he penetrates me, swirls his digits inside me, then draws them back out. I hear him inhale deeply and, though I’m facing forward and can’t see him, I can tell that he’s savouring the scent of my arousal on his hand.

“Hmmm,” he murmurs, and I hear him sucking on his fingers. “You’re so wet, aren’t you, you dirty slut?”

“Yes, Sir,” I moan. “So wet.”

The brisk slap of his hand on my right buttock makes me gasp.

“Are you going to behave, Jess?”

“No.”

He draws his hand back again and spanks me harder.

Are you going to behave now, you naughty little slut?”

I can barely breathe, I want him so much. I want him to spank my arse raw, reddening my plump cheeks so I can’t sit down comfortably for days. So I keep pushing.

“Make me!” I pant, and I hear him suck in his breath as he prepares a third slap, which is followed by a fourth and fifth in rapid succession. I shout.

Don’t answer me back, you disobedient whore.”

Smack! Smack! Smack!

“Oh God, yes!” I groan. I’m so hot, so horny. Between his harsh disciplinary tone and the sting of his hand kissing my bottom again and again, I can feel my orgasm approaching. I try to rub my thighs together, craving some stimulation on my clit. He realises what I’m doing, and cruelly pulls my legs further apart.

“No!” I whine. He leans in close to me, pressing his whole body against my back, and lowers his mouth to my ear. I feel the sweet warmth of his breath as he takes my earlobe in between his teeth and bites hard. My knees buckle, my cunt throbs, and I shout loudly in an almost animal shriek.

He merely chuckles, and with a deep growl he breathes into my ear, “Don’t even try it, Jess. We both know you asked for this, and you are NOT going to cum until you learn to behave, you naughty, filthy, little bitch…..”

Click the link for more Masturbation-inducing smuttiness

22 thoughts on “Behave, Bitch

  1. I. Love. THIS! Also, I can relate to that itchiness to do something, to get their attention, to sass. Something about sticking my tongue out at JB makes his Dom energy just flow…and usually not in a way I expect, so I know to both love and hate that moment when he catches me doing it, lol

    Liked by 1 person

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