Don’t let someone get comfortable disrespecting you.

Photo credit: JerBear

If he wanted to see me cross all he had to do was stretch out in the sunshine, erection on display in all of its glory.

Since his behaviour two weeks before I had been nursing my hurt feelings, brooding. Not only had he topped me from the bottom, but he had bratted me. Neither were things I consented to. Bruised I’d withdrawn, and despite his advances I didn’t know how to move past it. The longer I waited the more he tried to seduce me. And the more he tried the greater the distance became. Talking hadn’t worked, he still thought that I would feel better if I would just let him fuck me but the power exchange lay in tatters.

I wanted him to understand how I felt, but couldn’t work out how.

Since switching roles things had become more complicated in my mind, confusing. And now he was laying on the kitchen bench, tight balls and straining shaft, and all I wanted was to put the shopping away and get started on dinner. Pulling things out of the bag I laid my fingers on the ginger, an idea started to form. Could he? Would he? catching his eye, I raised it, eyes brightening as I heard him gasp. “You wouldn’t…” he said. Smiling I reached into the drawer for the peeler. I knew full well that this piece was as fresh as it would be, and that would make the intense pain last longer.

“I can’t take that Miss, It’s too fat. You know I’m not stretched”

The way Miss fell from his lips… The fear that made his voice crack, just a little bit. My cunt twitched. “Don’t worry about that boy, I’ll be peeling it , I can trim it to fit…  but not too much. I want to see you squirm” and with that I reached into the drawer by my hip and withdrew the peeler and a paring knife. As I whittled away at the knob his eyes grew wider. His pride and joy began to lose its smooth edges, withering slightly as he realised I wasn’t playing.  “You will learn not to disrespect me boy. If I didn’t think you could take this I wouldn’t be asking you to pull your knees up and show me your sweet little hole” Disbelieving eyes looked back at me, sweat blossoming on his forehead. The more fear he showed the wetter my pussy became. My cold, dry useless hole of earlier quickly becoming a dripping furnace of desire.

“I’m not lubed though Miss, and that looks fatter than your finger. Do you really think…?”

The words stopped abruptly as I edged closer, but he kept his legs down. “I can always grate it, stuff your foreskin and staple you closed” I suggested, with a sweet smile. Knowing full well that I meant every word he pulled his knees up as swiftly as the last of his hardness disappeared. Running a finger over his puckered opening I began to salivate. “Thank you boy” was all I could say before spitting on him, pushing first one finger and then a second inside him, and briefly fucking him roughly with them. Removing my dirty digits and replacing them with the ginger, as he silently screamed at the pain that threatened to overwhelm him I pushed those fingers into the gaping chasm that looked so inviting. “Clean them properly and I’ll have something else to distract you”. With my free hand I discarded my knickers and pulled up the skirt, running my ginger laced fingers over my own swollen sex, delving between my now puffy labia, seeking friction while I waited for him to finish showering my hand with adoration. Watching his pain, what he was taking for me…

Balance was restored… for now.