Hipster Intelligence Agency

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Dancer – Part 3

(Warning: Adult content!! This is Erotica about a couple in a D/s relationship. If you are offended by such things, refuse to become enlightened, and/or under the age of 18 [sorry, kids], please do not proceed.)

sexy_couple_kiss“I’m not angry with you, little dancer…” He let his breath out in another huff and lowered himself to sit on the table again. He stared at me and then dropped to his knees in front of me. “You wanna be fucked one time by a guy like me, that’s how it’s gonna be. I’m gonna treat you like the dirty little whore you’re acting like.”

I frowned, I didn’t want to be a whore. I didn’t want him to think of me that way… Did I? “Isn’t that why you strutted your pretty little ass up to me today? To get fucked? Fucked and forgotten like a cheap whore?”

I felt tears stinging my eyes, “I’m not a whore. I don’t want to be fucked and forgotten!”

“NO? Then explain it, dancer. What were you trying to accomplish?” His eyes flashed with that same fire that frightened me earlier, but I wasn’t scared now.

“Please stop shouting at me,” I whispered, trying to think of what to say. Trying to figure out what I HAD been thinking, if I didn’t just want to be fucked and forgotten.

His fingers slid over my cheek, catching a fallen tear, and his voice softened, “Can’t explain it? Don’t you know what you want?”

My heart and mind were racing each other. I looked down and looked back up at least 10 times. “I wanted you to want me. I just wanted to get you to want me.”

“And now? You know what you want now that you’ve succeeded?” He slid both thumbs over my cheeks before dropping his hands to my shoulders.

I smiled a tiny bit at his admission, but I didn’t know what to say. I wanted to tell him the spanking. But who asks for such a thing? I swallowed and tried to work my face up in defiance. “Don’t fake it, girl… Never lie to me. Just tell me what you want.” His fingers squeezed my shoulders a bit, and his face set to a determined expression.

My body was tingly all over and I looked down, feeling the heat rise in my cheeks. “A spanking, Sir,” I whispered as quietly as possible.

When he didn’t respond for a moment, I stole a glance at his face and saw him smirking. “Just a spanking?”

“No, Sir… I want you to show me… what comes after the spanking. I want whatever is next, too… And whatever comes after that… I want… I want you, Sir.”

“Good girl,” he growled low and deep in his chest. My pussy throbbed and I nearly melted into the floor. He stood, and put his hand out to me. When I took it, he lifted me swiftly into his arms. His lips barely touching mine, he smoothed my hair and stroked my skin. His fingers found their way to my neck and he breathed against my lips, lightly nipping and kissing them. His eyes never closed, and I was hypnotized by them, their color, so beautiful and unusual. In that moment, I saw flecks of gold and silver, black and green, deep within the bluish purple. I was entranced by him and when his kiss became more demanding, I still didn’t close my eyes. Wanting to feel this soul-searing moment forever.

As he pulled away, I heard a whimper escape my throat but he quieted me by slipping his fingers into my hair. “I can’t just do this a bit, dancer. Wanting this from me is wanting all of me. Doing this with me isn’t just playing a game… It means you’re mine. I think you ought to think about that.” His fingers traced the edge of my face. “If you want to be my girl, I’ll spank you. And from what I’ve seen today, I’ll probably spank you a lot. …And then there will be a lot of what comes after that.”

sexy-couple-2He backed away, rearranging his jeans and then took my hand again, pulling me into the kitchen. He grabbed my waist and lifted me to sit on the countertop. I watched him as he moved around the tiny space grabbing plates and bread, deli-meat and cheese, mayo and mustard, and started assembling a couple of sandwiches. Glancing at me every so often in a protective manner, like I might fall or escape. I giggled and he smiled.

He didn’t ask how I wanted my sandwich. He expected me to eat whatever he gave me. I couldn’t imagine he really cooked or served often, so I felt privileged in that moment. I started to offer my help, but it felt nice, being taken care of.

When he walked back over, he slid my legs apart and wedged himself between them. He wrapped his arms around me and stood there for a moment looking at me. “You’re a mess, girl. A pretty mess, but a mess, just the same. Go clean yourself up.” He pulled me down and swatted me toward the door opposite the stairs. I turned back to pout at him, but he raised his eyebrows at me making me squirm a little.

When I stepped in the bathroom, and looked in the mirror, I grimaced at my smeared eye makeup and matted hair. He was right, yuck. I quickly washed my face and used a brush I found in the vanity to smooth my hair. I twisted it into a braid, securing it with a knot and a little bobby pin that I also found in the vanity. I tried not to be too nosy, but thought I’d check to see if there were other feminine things in there. There wasn’t much, a tube of cherry lip gloss, a bra, and a pretty flower earring. Proof of one night stands, I supposed, but didn’t dwell.

I fixed my bra and wished I had grabbed my t-shirt from the other room. As I peaked my head out, he was standing by the door and handed me the shirt. I quickly threw it over my head, trying to fix the tie in the back and smooth it over my chest. He watched me, a sexy grin playing at his lips. “What?”

“Much better, baby. You don’t need all that shit on your face anyway. Come and eat, we’ll talk some more.” He grabbed my hand and led me back into the other room. “You got a curfew?”

“No!” I rolled my eyes, “I’m eighteen!” I caught the look in his eyes and immediately apologized.

“That attitude is gonna get you in trouble, dancer,” he grinned, and I wished he’d kiss me again, as I stared at his lips.

I decided to try to focus on eating, I was really hungry, but didn’t want to look like pig. I tore bites off my sandwich and took a sip of coke between each bite. He had some chips and sliced an apple too, which I thought was too sweet.

As I bit off the end of an apple slice, I looked back over at him. He was watching me, reclined back on the couch with his empty plate in his lap. I’m sure he noticed me blush, but I decided to fish for info. “So, do you want to tell me what happened with your wife? I mean, should I decide to be your girl, I might need to know these things….”

He chuckled at me and rubbed his chin, “She’s a cheating whore and left me to be with her babies’ real daddy.”

Oh. I’m sure the surprise registered on my face. “Which baby isn’t yours?”

“Neither. She thought I’d be rich by now so she stayed, but she’s been seeing this dude for a while. I ignored it for a while. Then I had my own fun for a while.” He grinned and raised his brow again, he was so handsome. “Eventually, I decided to test my theory and had Eli’s and my DNA tested. He didn’t look like me at all, and sure enough, no match. She didn’t even try to argue. I told her there was no judge that would grant her anything, so we signed dissolution papers the following week.”

“Wow. That fast….” Did that mean he didn’t love her?

“I loved her,” he sighed, reading my mind and tilting his head back to close his eyes. “At one point… And poor little Eli. But he’s got a real Daddy, and from what I saw at the hearing, he loves him. He’ll be ok.”

“I’m sorry you lost your family…” I watched him, and waited for him to open his eyes. I slid the plate off his lap and set it on the table. His eyes popped open and he lifted his head slowly. I lightly pulled his ankle from his knee and scooted over, pulling my knees up onto the sofa.

sexy-coupleHis expression remained soft, so I kept moving closer until I was right next to him. I lifted my hand to his cheek, lightly brushing my knuckles against his stubble. A low hum emanated from his chest and his eyes closed. I opened my palm, and repeated the move while lifting my other hand to his opposing cheek.

His eyes opened and he pulled me to straddle him, but then let his hands and head drop back to rest, but his eyes remained open, watching me, calculating my every move. I stroked his face and scratched my nails through his hair. I could feel his cock growing under me, but he made no move, just sat still, watching me.

I leaned forward, timidly, until our lips just touched. I waited a moment for him to stop me, but his lips parted and his tongue danced at the edge of our kiss. I nipped at his gorgeous lips before sliding my tongue between them. But I pulled back when he didn’t really kiss me back, and stared at him.

He lifted his fingers to my lips, “You’re so young baby.”

“Old enough to decide for myself.”

“Young enough to be easily coerced.”

“You only talk like that because you had to grow up too fast. Be young, again… with me!”

He smiled, his fingers slipping down my braid. He pulled the bobby pin and let out the knot, then slowly unbraided my long, blond hair and ran his fingers through it several times.

“Be young with you…”

“Or be old with me… I don’t care, but don’t dismiss me for being young.”

I swallowed and leaned into his hands, playing in my hair. I suddenly remembered his wife… ex-wife had short hair. Maybe that was his fascination.

“Think of where you’d be today if everyone had dismissed you for being young.” I lifted my fingers back up to his hair, dragging my fingers through it the way he enjoyed earlier.

“Teach me,” I whispered, finally letting myself grind against him and thrusting my tits out, against his hands in my hair.

He groaned at the friction and opened his hands to cup my soft, young breasts. “You are fucking tempting.”

I lowered my lips to just above his, staring into his eyes, he seemed to like that. “Do I need to beg, Sir?  …Is that what you want?”

His breath slipped out in a long sigh as I teased his lips with mine.  He grabbed the back of my neck and crushed my mouth into his, thrusting his tongue inside to dominate mine in a battle that made me moan and squirm. When he ripped his lips away, I was panting and desperate for more, nearly clawing at him to kiss me again. Instead, he sunk his teeth into my neck, then ripped my tee-shirt over my shoulder. When the fabric actually tore, his eyes lit up and he used both hands to split it open the rest of the way.

I didn’t react, because all I could think was, ‘yes, I want him to bite me everywhere!’  But first, I wanted another kiss. Bending my lips to his, writhing on top of him and trying to get his lips on mine, he held me back, “Go ahead.  Beg,” he growled.

I got wetter, if that was even possible, before whining, “Please, please kiss me again, Sir. Please stick your tongue in my mouth…” He smiled and obliged, better than before and it was the perfect combination of friction, lust, and arousal.

I came.

I squealed as my muscles set off in amazing spasms and grinded against him hard until the last pulse threw me breathlessly backwards and he had to catch me from falling.

He chuckled, “What the fuck, girl, I barely touched you!”

I blushed and covered my face with my hands, but he peeled them back, “That was awesome.”

He wrapped my arms around his neck and softly kissed my lips, jaw and neck as he stood, carrying me effortlessly with him.  I squeezed my legs around his hips and offered my own soft kisses as he carried me to the locked sliding doors at the back of the room.

“Don’t be scared, Dancer.  Remember that you wanted this…” As he unlocked the doors with his back to them, I got extremely nervous at his words.  Then, as he slid the doors aside, my mouth fell open and real, honest fear clutched my throat.

He stood there, holding my now dead weight as I stared into a room that I couldn’t even understand.

“What the fuck…”

To Be Continued.


If you are all worked up and need more now, please head over to my blog, Pushing Our Limits to read some of my other fiction. Enjoy!

About Mel Douleur

In my late thirties, as a wife, a mother, an administrative manager… As a woman in emotional flux, I spread my fingers across a keyboard one day to defeat the boredom inside my mind. I found that truth was actually quite interesting. I found that the imaginary was even more interesting. I found that I could write. And, Mel Douleur was born.

4 comments on “Dancer – Part 3

  1. Hipster Racist
    February 2, 2014

    Reblogged this on Hipster Racist and commented:
    Oh this story just gets better and better…

  2. mel
    February 2, 2014

    Reblogged this on Pushing our limits and commented:
    My latest Dancer installment…

  3. Pingback: Dancer | Pushing our limits

  4. Pingback: Heartbreakers VIII | Hipster Intelligence Agency


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