Lest you assume that I am spoiled, I’d like to preface this pleasurable little tale with an assurance that I was being rewarded.
My behavior is sketchy at best. I have a tendency to be fractious and am compulsively sarcastic. I’m much more likely to be spanked than orally pleasured, and deservedly so.
However, occasionally, I resolve to correct my behavior and strive to be a well behaved little submissive. I generally succeed, for a while at least, and my efforts work the controller into a sexual frenzy.
You see, when I try to be good, I’m very, very good. Very, let us say, attentive.
And when I’m very good, it amuses the controller to reward me for my behavior. Generally, these rewards are sexual.
Which is how I found myself, blissfully spread-legged on his bed, my hands digging frantically into the bedding as his tongue agonized my sex.
I’m not a very vocal person. The controller lives with a roommate and while the proximity has done nothing to curb his more aberrant desires, it has tempered my vocalizations. I do realize that the echo of various implements on my flesh is unmistakable but I am a little bit self conscious at the thought of my pleas for mercy being overhead by voyeuristic roommate ears. I try to keep my screams low.
But though I am not a very vocal person, I find oral sex highly pleasurable and I started to moan loudly and with abandon. My hands left the cobalt of the bedding and searched for something more solid upon which to brace myself. They fell lightly on his head and then grabbed hold passionately. Apparently, this is frowned upon.
“Put your hands back by your side.” The controller spoke without rancor and without loosing his rhythm and the combination of his hypocrisy and his tongue nearly caused me to spasm. I say hypocrisy without complaining, but I would like to note that when I am pleasuring him, his hands are generally interacting with my hair. I believe the best word would be “petting”. It’s quite erotic and mortifying to be stroked like a pet and it was very sexually frustrating not to be allowed to touch him similarly. I have always been aroused at the realization that what is sauce for the goose is not allowed to the gander.
Needless to say, my hands dropped to my side and I murmured an apology-turned-moan that completely mitigated any previously contained contrition. The controller laughed and continued his oh-so-appreciated attentions.
Then, without a knock or any of the privacy respecting pleasantries that make living with others tolerable, the bedroom door opened. It was the controller’s roommate. My immediate reaction was to shout a few obscenities and try to contort myself into a more dignified position. Unfortunately, these goals conflicted with those of the controller, who held me in place and told me to be quiet. When my wicked mouth continued to blather its petulant nonsense, the controller sternly put his hand over my mouth and turned to his roommate. “Yes?”
The roommate (we’ll call him Josh) had been viewing my sprawled form with a kind of amused indifference but he turned and answered the controller. “I was just running out and wanted to see if you wanted anything to eat.”
The controller turned and looked at me and then back at Josh. He smiled. “No, I think I’m set.”
Josh smirked and I raised my hand and covered my blistering red face. After Josh’s exit, the controller set back about his previous business without delay. But not, unfortunately, without comment.
“When I say to be quiet, what should you do?” His tongue probed deep and hot and I felt a tremor of fear.
“I should be quiet.”
He had stopped and had risen to look at me. “And if you don’t?”
“I’ll be punished.”
The controller smiled and lowered his head. “Yes. As soon as you come.”
I didn’t take long.
