Push The Button

by Feminista Jones

“I’m being pulled so many ways at work. I know I can handle it, but some days… some days it is just too much. I must have clocked 15 hours today.”

“Oh, Sir, I’m so sorry to hear that. I know you’ve been dealing with a lot at work lately and I hate that it is overwhelming you this way. How can I

help you in this ...

“Take off your clothes…”

This was not a new request and she knew very well what He wanted when He commanded it. He enjoyed her slow movements, never breaking eye contact… focused… deliberate… dancing on the bridge between coy sensuality and gratuitous sexuality.

A perfect example of a D/S realtionship. The submission is fully aware what turn on the Dominate.

She was wearing an ivory satin push-up bra and white boy shorts, so she didn’t have much to remove. She reached behind her back and gingerly unhooked the latches of her bra. She then delicately hooked the index finger of her right hand under the left strap and guided it down her shoulder. She did the same for the other side, never breaking eye contact. Sh...

Push up bra's can make any breast size more appealing.

“Show me.” She fully removed the bra and cupped her breasts. They weren’t overly large, but not small either. They were a full C cup, and He deemed them “perfect” for His taste. When He made this simple command, she knew He meant that she was to present them to Him, playfully and sensually, so she began massaging her breasts and rolling the nipples in between her thumbs and index fingers.

Women need to understand true men do not look at one body part as seperate but looking at the total package which include your state of mind.

She watched Him lean back in His chair and slowly place His hand atop His groin area. She could see slight

twitches in His boxer-briefs, but dared not let her enjoyment of His new predicament show in her face because He could read her so well. She lifted her left breast towards her mouth, preparing to suck the nipple...

She rushed to her bedroom again, opened the same drawer, and pulled out her lilac g-spot vibrator. She hurried back to her computer and looked at the screen. She saw that He had removed his boxer briefs and was holding Himself, slowly...

“Sir, may I play with myself?” “Yes. Do what I need you to do, what you need to do…”

Angling herself for a better view, she began to move the vibrator along the outer lines of her vagina. It slid in easily, as she was naturally well-lubricated. With her left hand, she spread the lips wider and with her right hand, she massaged herself with the lilac-colored device. With every movement, she slipped deeper into the moment and allowed herself more

enjoyment of it. At least He’d given her perm...

She broke eye contact with Him when her own eyes began to roll back into her head. Her hips slowly began to gyrate to the rhythm her hand and toy had started. After a few minutes and at last three low groans from Him, she inserted the toy inside. “Yes, baby girl. That’s it. Show me. Good girl. Make my pussy cum for me. NOW!”

Hearing the urgency in His voice, she knew He was not far off from His own release. She knew He needed her to give Him the visual stimulation He

needed to get over and release...

She widened her legs and pushed the toy deeper until it hit her spot. She knew it would be any second now. She moaned once, and then again, and finally a low, guttural raw sound came from her throat as she felt the wave of an intense orgasm take over her body. She felt her body jerk as her back arched and just then, her body released its juices and she squirted them all over her keyboard, some of it hitting the screen.

No man would look at porn if thier women would do this.

She opened her eyes just in time to see Him making his final feverish strokes as He erupted into a handful of tissues he had. She hated to see His cum go to such waste, but what could she do? “Did I please you, Sir?” “Oh. Yes. Yes, baby girl. You were fantastic! You always are.”

The example of a good "Naughty Girl"

“You are so fucking beautiful. I wish you could have come on this trip with me.”

He recognized, in her, a support system, a friend, a confidant, a cheerleader, and later, a fantastic lover. She felt that He was genuinely interested in who she was, the woman behind the mask,

He’d been unsure of Himself, at least in terms of how to display His Dominance with her; this was somewhat new to Him. He asked her to help Him learn, to guide Him so that He could grow to be what she needed in a Dom.

She had more experience in “The Life” than He did, but He never seemed intimidated by that. She was never overbearing or chastising.

The more time they spent, either in person, online, or via phone, the more comfortable He grew in His Dominance, she in her submission, and they grew together. Their love for each other grew, slowly, surely, intentionally, and purposefully. He would eventually take over and she no longer needed to tell Him what she needed and craved; He knew.

Now, as they sat in the car cloaked in excruciatingly loud silence, intense electricity began to form between them. Still, she said nothing. She couldn’t. In the next second, His left hand was clasped firmly around her throat, forcing her face upwards. His lips were less than an inch away from her left ear and she could feel the warmth of his breath against her eardrum. “Answer me.”

As she felt her panties

dampen, she closed her eyes and for the first time that day, felt herself relax a bit. He was home.

He turned her face towards His and she opened her eyes. He searched her face for answers and she read in His eyes that He was beginning ...

When they arrived at home, she immediately removed her clothing, put on her collar,

“Don’t get too comfortable, Star. You are a nasty girl, indeed, but this isn’t the time for that. Focus.” Star was her “sub” name,

She stopped rocking and the words poured forth. She told Him everything about the mishaps of the presentation and how she felt like a complete failure. He stood quietly, cane still in hand, and listened intently.

Domiate must always be sensitive to the outside world and the effects on D/S relationship.

She cried through her recount, letting go of the tears she’d been holding back the entire day.

“I’m so sorry, Sir. I’m sorry I let you down. I’m sorry I failed you. I’m sorry I failed myself. You believe so much in me. You helped me with this for weeks. You’ve shown me so much care and support…and I failed. Forgive me, please!”

“You did not fail me. You did not fail yourself” “Yes I did!! Yes I did!!” “Are you disputing me and my assessment? Is that what is happening right now?” “No, of course not, Sir. I’m sorry. I… I’m just struggling with this.” “Let it go, Star.” “It’s not that easy.” “I said… Trust in me and Let. It. Go. Now!”

Dominate must always,always. always be supportive to submissive no matter what.

With that last command, He grabbed her by her arms and pulled her up off of her knees. They were now standing face-to-face, almost eye-to-eye. He shook her shoulders a bit. “You have to let it go. You did the best you could. You encountered a few mishaps, but it happens to the best of us.”

She looked down into His eyes. She couldn’t seem to bring herself to accept what He was saying as truth. He lifted her chin up with His index finger. He leaned closer and kissed her, softly at first, then increasingly deeper as He sought to convey ...

“You are one of the smartest people I’ve ever encountered in my entire life. You’re beautiful, inside and out. There will be other opportunities to present your idea and garner support. All is not lost. You didn’t fail me. You didn’t fail yourself.” He kissed her forehead again.

She drew in a deep breath just in time. Within seconds a pillow descended onto her face and she was eclipsed in white. One, two, three, five, ten, twelve of the slowest seconds passed as she felt herself falling deeper into sub-space, her mental, physical, spiritual, and emotional place of peace and freedom, embracing her temporary loss of breath

“Alright, then. Stop acting like you aren’t excited, nasty ass,” He chided with a laugh.

“What should I we–” “The red-and-black striped cocktail dress. Red heels. Scene collar. I packed them in my bag before I left.”

Sapphire was an out-of-the way social club for “adult” party-goers. It was the only spot in a 200-mile radius that combined a Dungeon and a Swing Club in one. Usually, swing clubs focused primarily on dancing and sex, often in private rooms, one of which might have a BDSM theme to it. Most dungeons didn’t allow people to engage

in sexual activity and, more specifically, didn’t allow fluid exchanges.

Sapphire was the one place people who were both into BDSM and the Swinging lifestyle could come and enjoy themselves in a nigh...

There was a BDSM convention in town, and though David was unable to register them for the workshops

The first time David and Nicole went, they agreed they wouldn’t “play” with others and keep to themselves, which they did. Of course, the environment was arousing

The music in the club was bumping heavy bass and there was already a large crowd on the dance floor. People were crowding around the bar, chatting, laughing, catching up it seemed. People were dressed in everything from scant club attire to sexy fetish gear. There was a plethora of leather and lace, black, red, purple everywhere. It was the type of sexy environment Nicole loved and from which she drew her most sensual energy. She felt herself becoming charged by the electricity in the room already.

She began to walk towards the restroom to escort Him, but He stopped her. He pulled out His wallet and handed her a $20 bill. “Get yourself a drink, baby girl. I’ll be right back. I expect you’ll conduct yourself accordingly,” He said with a smile. “Of course, Sir,” returning His smile in kind.

He kissed her forehead and as He walked off, she turned around and placed an order at the bar. Vodka and cranberry was the drink of the night, she decided. The deep red would match her outfit sexily.

“I am the Man that will snap your neck where you stand if you even fix your mouth to utter another word to My Bitch again.”

If he cooked once a month it was excessive. The kitchen was certainly her domain and that is how he expected it to be, so whenever he cooked, she became suspicious. What does he want now?

She walked into the apartment greeted by a stronger aroma of chicken frying and a freshly-baked sweet potato pie, both his specialties. She remembered how he brought her a homemade sweet potato pie on their second date, which was rather impressive because it actually tasted delicious.