💮͓̽His Mistress💮

9💮

"Fuck!" I moaned as his fingers circled my clit.
 
"Tell me exactly what you want, Caramella," he breathed, his hot breath fanning my thighs, raising goosebumps on my skin.
 
"I..I..i want you," I whispered, my voice trembling as I gripped the sheets, knuckles white.
 
"I can't hear you," he murmured, and my frustration mounted. I squeezed the sheets tighter.
 
"I want you buried deep inside me, Raul," I begged. He tugged roughly at my wrist, bending me over until my ass was in the air.

His cold hand caressed my cheeks, an opposite of the fire building between my legs. His touch sent an electric current through me.
 
"I'm going to spank you, Caramella. Do you know why?"

He whispered, his voice dangerously low, igniting a burning wetness between my legs.
 
"N-no, sir," I stammered.
 
The low rumble of his chuckle vibrated through me, it was deep enough to hit my G-spot. His palm connected with my ass, stinging but oddly exhilarating.
 
"That's your punishment, Caramella, for being a naughty daddy's girl. And I hope this will teach you a lesson."
 
"I'm sorry, daddy," I moaned, the pain mingling with a strange, burgeoning pleasure.
 
"You're forgiven, Angel, but I still need to teach you a lesson, hmm?" Another spank.

Tears pricked my eyes. And another. And another. By the sixtieth spank, my cheeks and the sheets were soaked.
 
"Please, Raul," I cried.
 
He roughly pulled my hair, forcing my back against his chest. His hands roughly cupped my breasts, eliciting a cry of pain.

His teeth sank into my neck, leaving painful marks that trailed down to my shoulders as he kneaded my breasts.
 
Without warning, he thrust inside me, the sudden invasion causing a sharp, searing pain.
 
"Raul—"
 
"Yes, Caramella," he growled, "go ahead and moan my name with that sweet mouth of yours. I want the whole world to know that you're Raul D'Amano's slut."

His thrusts were slow, deep, and agonizingly pleasurable.
 
My moans were guttural, animalistic. "Raul, I'm about to—"
 
"Cum for me, Angel," he commanded, and with a shuddering climax, I did.

I woke up gasping, my chest heaving, sweat slicking my forehead. A dampness between my legs startled me.

Looking down, I saw my shorts soaked through with a thick, milky residue, the bed beneath equally stained.

"The fuck?" I whispered, my voice raspy. "Did I just have a wet dream... about Mr. D'Amano? A married man?" The thought hit me like a harsh slap. This can't be happening.

This is wrong, a sin. I raked my fingers through my hair, the image of the dream, of him, clinging to my mind. The unsettling feeling intensified, a fresh wave of wet clogged my pussy.

I needed a cold shower, desperately. I quickly washed the offending shorts and threw them in the dryer before scrambling into the shower.

The icy water did little to quell the turmoil inside. The harder I tried to push the dream, to erase Mr. D'Amano's image from my mind, the more vividly it played itself out, his face seared into my memory.

His image was stuck, lodged in my heart and head, and with it a burning, insistent need.

My clitoris throbbed, an insistent, unwelcome drumbeat against the cold tiles.

My hormones raged, a chaotic storm within. I couldn't just go out and find some random man; deep down, I knew I wouldn't be satisfied unless it was Raul.

The safer option was myself. I rubbed my clitoris in slow, circular motions, the friction a small comfort amidst my sexual turmoil. I couldn't bring myself to finger myself properly; it felt too... painful.

The thought of deflowering myself, of doing this without Raul, was unbearable. I wanted nothing less than for it to be him.

I leaned back against the cold tiles, spreading my legs wider, focusing on the pleasure building from my clit.

My other hand drifted to my breasts, kneading and massaging.

"Fuck!" I moaned, the sound muffled by the water, my mind forcefully substituting Raul's image for my own touch.

The fantasy eased the unbearable tension, but only temporarily.

I'm screwed. Having these dreams, this erotic need... for a married man. The guilt crashed over me again, a heavy wave of self-recrimination.

Lord, forgive me!