drwhitly | Closed to formersurgeon

Martin bobbed his head as he considered what she said. “I supposed so. There are times when the struggle for control is also just as thrilling.” This was illustrated in so many areas of his precious life and their current sex life

He hadn’t thought out the details of the endeavor just yet but Martin would be certain to explore every angle of it. He would love to have her accountable to him when she was aroused. Owning her excited him on so many levels.

“I’ll order it tonight when you leave.” He declares before taking the last bite off of his plate, picking up his wine to complete the meal. “But for now I think we need something a bit more organic, don’t you think, darling?”

She smiled at that, definitely relating the idea of a struggle for control to their sex life. As much as she enjoyed the idea of being owned, and knew that Martin enjoyed the idea of owning her, it would be flat and boring if she were merely submissive.

"It is," she affirmed.

She finished her meal at the same time, chasing down the last bit of steak with the last swallow of wine. "Definitely," she agreed, setting down the wine glass and wiping her mouth with her napkin. She put the napkin down and looked around. "Hmm...against the wall might be nice. Or you could lift me onto one of the counter tops. Or you could just sweep everything off the table and fuck me right here." She looked at him, eyebrows playfully raised. "Thoughts?"

Joan understood him in a way that he appreciated beyond words. While there were a few instances where they didn't quite agree in preference, she still accepted him as him. He was, after all, the serial killer she sought out, through and through.

"Not even interested in making it to the bedroom," he observed, listening to her verbal fantasizes. He smiled with his words, taking a moment to set his own wine glass to the side; they were a mess to clean up if they broke. "I do like the idea of taking you right here and now." He pushed his seat back slightly, his legs casually spread. "But first you're going to come over to me, get on your knees, and get things started." He removed the question from this suggestion.

She accepted him and loved him. It wasn't a simple thing; he was still a serial killer, and murder was an inextricable part of his person. She could never approve of the actual act of murder, and would never condone his crimes. And yet she still accepted him, all of him, even the violent parts, even the parts that lusted after blood and death. He was dark and dangerous and beautiful and brilliant and she loved it all.

She smiled a little at his order, and considered him for a moment, now slightly back from the table, before pushing back from the table herself. She rose, flashed her eyebrows playfully, then got down on her hands and knees to crawl under the table toward him.

“Oh!” Martin exclaimed with some amusement. “Adding some flare, are we?” He greatly appreciated that. He spent years in a marriage full of vanilla sex if he could get any, while anything was an improvement, this was leagues better.

Just the sight of her on her knees got his cock swelling. To aid things along, he took the liberty of opening his pants and pulling himself out, stroking his cock as he watched her approach. “You look hungry for it.” He observed with a playful smirk.

One of the benefits of having "exercise partners" was a greater freedom in experimentation. If something didn't work, well, she never had to have that person over again. But with Martin she felt free to play. There would clearly be boundaries, on both sides, but within those boundaries she enjoyed their exploration, and was fairly certain he did as well. There was nothing vanilla about them.

She smiled as she saw him stroking his cock, the sight of it only intensifying the heat between her legs.

"Ravenous," she answered, smirking back, moving between his knees, She leaned forward, eyes on his, and lightly raked the head of his cock with her teeth.

The contact of those teeth to his swollen cock made Martin visibly shiver. He exhaled with a groan, skin prickling and igniting every nerve. There were sudden urges to grab her head and force something more intense immediately but giving her the reins to take her time on him was a long game he knew would pay off. So instead, his hand reached out and stroked her dark hair gently, holding his cock at the base for her to do with as she pleased.

“Yes....that’s it-“ he purred, chin to his chest just watching her.

God, she loved having that effect on him. It was another dance of the give and take of control. She knew full well that if he wanted that gentle hand on her hair could violently grab her head and push her down as he fucked her mouth. But just as her being solely submissive was boring, so was him dominating her every moment and merely taking what he wanted. It was so much more satisfying for both of them, she felt, when she gave him pleasure willingly, actively. . Still on her knees to him, her eyes still upturned with clear devotion but also with that bit of control over him, the power to make him shiver and groan.

She leaned into the hand touching her hair for a moment, then opened her mouth wider, taking him further inside, then slowly dragging her teeth up his shaft.

Martin loved the give and take. The concept that she was actually in far more control than he was, while in such a vulnerable position, was not lost to him. She had him like puddy in her hands really. He would do whatever she desired of him so long as she kept that pleasure coming. He knew her to be clever enough to manage those reins.

His toes curled in his shoes feeling the slight toughness of her teeth, certain his cock had twitched in her mouth, producing some precum on her tongue. “Oh-“ he purred again. “I’d tell you to be careful but there’s no fun in that.”

Joan tasted the saltiness of his precum spreading on her tongue and hummed with amused delight, it being yet another sign of how much pleasure he was experiencing at her hands. Or, more accurately, her mouth.

"No fun at all," she purred with a sly smile, then carefully, playfully, nipped at the edge of his glans before taking him in her mouth again, this time to work him with her lips and tongue.

Martin watched her intently, feeling himself stiffen against her tongue as she moved. He released a groan as he leaned back in his chair. “I need you to get on this table so that I can see how wet this is making you.”

He paused as he thought over his next words. Wetting his lips he said, “And decide what I’m to do to you.”

Joan smiled around his cock, and slowly pulled her mouth off of him, leaving with a little flick of her tongue against his tip.

She stood and pushed Martin's plate and silverware to the side, then turned to face him, leaning back against the table. She was wearing a blouse and slacks on the outside, and a black lace bra with matching panties underneath. Those panties were already quite soaked.

"I feel like I'm your next course," she said with a sultry smile. Thank goodness Martin never ate his victims, or else that could be awkward. "Do you want me to take my clothes off?"

“That’s exactly what you are,” he grinned at her usual obedience. It would be awkward if he were a cannibal, but that simply wasn’t his style. Stroking himself to keep his cock attended to, he nodded, eyes raking her over. “Yes, take them off.” He paused, wetting his lips once more, “Everything.” He wanted her completely naked on the table in front if him.

She slipped off her heels and put them aside, then began to slowly unbutton her blouse while watching him stroke himself, licking her own lips, still tasting him.

"Seeing you stroke yourself like that makes me so wet," she purrs, pulling off her blouse. She unzipped her slacks and removed them, setting them aside, then stepped toward him. It wasn't exactly what he ordered, but it also wasn't direct disobedience.

"Want to feel?" she murmured.

Hearing that the sight of him got her so aroused was an ego stroke he especially enjoyed. There were times when that sort of stroke was far more powerful and alluring than anything physical. He noted that she had slightly veered from his instruction but when his free hand automatically went where it was summoned, it wasn’t worth saying anything to it.

“I always want to feel you-“ he smiled, leaning in, his nose gliding over the skin of her neck and inhaling her scent. His fingers naturally slid into her when invited, two at once knowing that if she was aroused, she would be able to handle it. Instantly two knuckles deep, he felt how wet she was, causing his cock to stiffen in his own grip. He gave her a few pumps with his fingers just watching her.

She gasped at the immediate deep penetration but didn't object. Instead she moaned softly as he pumped his fingers into her, bowing her head to rest on his shoulder. One of her hands went to his cock and took over for his hand, stroking him in time with those fingers.

"To be fair," she murmured, "I've been wet all day."

"Oh, I know you have been," he grinned. They'd had these plans all week and he intended to make the evening worth their while.

Moving to be closer to her, since she did have him by the cock, after all, his free hand slid past her on the table where he was easily able to snatch the steak knife used just minutes before. "Let's...make this more interesting-" He spoke calmly and softly before pushing her to lie back on the table, his fingers still inside her while a knife now went to her throat.

She smiled as he moved closer to her, wanting his touch, his warmth...and then she drew a quick, sharp breath when the knife was pressed to her throat. A thrill of fear shivered through her, and she let him push her back, her eyes widened and wary, watching him closely, very closely, her movements slow. She released his cock and raised her hands, as if in surrender.

"What are you going to do?" she murmured, her pupils wide and cheeks flushed, more aroused than afraid.

Martin saw that fear in her eye and felt the nerves across his body tingle with anticipation and excitement. His cock was a solid rod so it still brushed her thigh even as she released it.

As he gazed down at her, both positioned in such a manner that he certainly towered over her, he spoke in a calm and normal tone, “Why I’m going to fuck you, my dear.”

His fingers slid out of her to guide his cock to replace them, and with a roll of his hips, he entered her.

She had thought of this, back when he was cutting his steak with that knife. Thought of him using it on his victims, then thought of him using it on her, the same way he enjoyed choking her when he fucked her, getting that thrill of having her life in his hands. This was more terrifying than his hands around her throat, though. He was sufficiently skilled with that knife that he could kill her in an instant, whereas strangling her took time, time during which she could fight back. And this was much closer to how he murdered his victims.

If he had asked her about knifeplay beforehand, she would have said no.

She's already breathing a little roughly with arousal and fear when he guides his cock to her entrance. When he thrusts inside her she groans desperately, her eyelids fluttering for a moment at the sensation.

He loved her. He did. There was no reason for him to kill her. She knew this. And she wanted to be able to offer herself to him completely, even now, but she couldn't yet. She still watched him, trying to think of ways to defend herself.

More than his hand around her neck, he had wanted to obtain that authentic fear in her. The anxiety that made even her internal muscles tense around his member. They both knew that he could kill her skillfully at any moment. He also felt that she knew him well enough to know that if he were to treat her as a victim, he would have gone all the way with the scalpel and everything. As a serial killer he was a creature of habit through and through. Although he did care, and would stop if she told him to, but if that didn’t occur even though he was opening some flood gates now, he would aim to avoid leaving any marks.

Releasing a gasp that mixed into a groan, he drove himself entirely inside of her, feeling for that unique clench as he began to move slowly.

“Shh-“ he hushed her nerves even though she hadn’t spoken. His eyes were transfixed onto hers, feeling her heart’s pace. “You trust me.” His language was telling more than reminding. “And you are enjoying this.” He made sure his pelvis would grind against her clit to give some stimulation as well.

She was still so, so wet, her body hot around him, her muscles exactly as he had expected, tense and tight with anxiety. It was a different sensation than his cock inside her when she was relaxed, and if she were to be entirely honest...it wasn't a sensation she hated. It was hardly the first time they had engaged in fear-driven sex, and she had found that, despite it being very different from her usual sexual practices before Martin, she did enjoy it quite a lot.

He was telling her she trusted him, and she did. He told her she was enjoying it, and she was. God, was she ever. He ground against her and she groaned again. She looked up into his eyes, her body trembling...then she swallowed, closed her eyes, and tilted back her head, offering her throat, the pace of her panting quickening slightly as both the arousal and fear increased at her surrender.

It was largely unspoken that they would partake in such sexual play, but when it happened and she gave no indication that she wanted him to shy away from it, then Martin simply continued. It wasn't planned so much as a spur of the moment sort of thing. So while he probably should be warning her, that would take away from the authentic affect of it.

He hadn't inaccurately read her body either, she was submitting in a fashion that empowered him while also let him know that she was still very much on edge from that knife.

As he lost himself in the moment and pressed the blade slightly into the beautiful pale skin of her throat as he rocked her body with his own, increasing in force. There was a distinct sweat on his brow as he would breathe heavily. It showed how tense and excited he was, his body running with adrenaline although moving in such a way that reminded him that he was still in many ways out of shape.

Joan knew what she was getting into, becoming sexually involved with a serial killer, one who took such pleasure in torture and murder. She had no illusions about what he was and what he wanted, so really, while this was a surprise when it happened, it was also somewhat expected.

She gasped when he pressed the blade against her skin, wondering how much pressure it would take for the knife to draw blood, and how much more for it to release a fountain of blood from her jugular. She trusted him...but she also feared this. He loved her, but he also desired the thrill of the kill. What if he lost control of himself? It would take a split second, a tiny slip, for him to slit her throat. It was terrifying, and god, so hot. He was fucking her hard, slamming into her, grinding against her, and her pleasure was through the roof, perhaps in spite of the fear but more likely because of it.

"Martin," she cried out, and her conflict was conveyed in the pleading tone of her voice. Please, don't kill me. Please, fuck me harder.

Martin watched her face closely and heard her plea in her voice. It was really just background sound. His eyes fell to the blade at her neck and it stirred that abnormal desire inside of him.

He did what she wanted and fucked her harder, tilting the blade just slightly to draw a touch of blood when she was jolted, the entire table going with her. He was breaking the 'no marks' rule, but he could barely see straight in that moment. There was just a woman he endlessly desired fueling his dark fantasies and he wanted it all with her.

Martin had his tells that he was getting close to his climax as his rhythm of bucking into her became rapid and in short succession, giving her some indication that he was nearing his edge.

Closed to formersurgeon

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So sorry for being so slow!

No worries!

Re: No worries!

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