At Last

He rubbed her back and forth, the thin-wale corduroy rough against her skin. She let her neck-muscles relax and groaned out loud. Unable to help herself she began to kiss and even lick the enormous bulge behind his zipper whenever her position allowed, her mouth hanging open. She had never, even in her most vivid fantasies, experienced this level of submission and excitement. And somehow the fact that they had yet to speak even a single word to each other made her feel even more like his property; a toy to be used for his pleasure. She pressed her breasts against his thighs, the fabric of his pants dragging across her nipples as he pulled her face back and forth, up and down.

She heard herself cry out before she had any idea that she was going to do so. The intensity of her arousal had suddenly spiked the moment her nipples had come in contact with him, and she had known that she was going to come within seconds. The cry had been one of desperation, knowing there was nothing she could do to stop it this time. The sound echoed up and down the concourse, startling them both.

But he reacted instantaneously--stepping back and forcefully tilting her face up to his. By now her eyes had adjusted to his shadow somewhat and she could see his eyes...feel the power of his will as he held her in his gaze. It was as if he were inside her mind, somehow able to control her body as she could not, because the fire raging inside her began miraculously to settle and then to recede until it was only a raw, yearning sensation, the fires banked once more within her loins—for the moment. She stared up at him, eyes wide, breathing shakily through dry, trembling lips.

He rewarded her with a slight smile and solemn nod of the head. He leaned down and kissed her dry lips, lightly. Then he straightened and tugged lightly on the leash to bring her down onto all fours again before setting off...

...Down the concourse.

She allowed herself not even a second's hesitation, shutting her mind down to everything except his will, crawling after him before the slack in the leash had even a chance to tighten.

He neither hurried nor looked back, strolling along at a casual pace. The concourse was deserted. Unbidden, pictures began flooding into her mind: this same concourse, at noon, thronged with people—men, women and children—all stopping to stare at the man in the black sweater as he walked past, leading a collared, leashed and nearly naked woman crawling after him with her panties halfway down her thighs.

Her pussy gave a sudden throb; she was so overcome by her imaginings that she faltered for a moment and nearly fell over in a swoon. It took all her determination to keep her attention on the backs of his legs as she hurried to catch up before the leash tightened.

As it turned out he didn't take her much farther. His steps slowed and then he swerved to the left across the corridor. Focused only on following him, she had no idea where he was headed until the rug beneath her hands, knees and feet suddenly gave way to little tiles, cold and rough beneath her. As they rounded a corner she looked up and saw a row of stalls to her right, a row of urinals to her left—and realized that he had brought her into a men's restroom.

He walked up to the nearest urinal, looped and tied the end of her leash loosely around the pipe running into the wall. Then he unzipped his pants and took out his cock. It was hugely erect and for a moment she anticipated having to take it all into her mouth right there; having him yank her upright by her hair and simply shoving it down her throat, fucking her without mercy until he was satisfied. When he stepped back from the urinal she was so convinced of what was about to happen that she nearly raised herself to her knees and opened her mouth, unbidden, stopping herself only when he failed to turn towards her.

She had never seen a man attempt to urinate with an erection before, and she suddenly understood why he had stepped back. The stream of his urine arced upward through the air for the better part of a yard before falling into the urinal, making the porcelain ring slightly. He sighed with relief and moved closer to the urinal as the pressure lessened and the stream began to slow. Nevertheless in spite of his precaution the last drops splashed the edge of the urinal and dripped onto the floor, and a few more dribbled down his cock.

He grabbed a few paper towels from a nearby wall dispenser and dropped them to the floor in front of her. She looked at them...then up at him...then down again--and moaned out loud.

She wiped the floor first—oh god, kneeling at his feet, cleaning his piss from the floor like a slavegirl—and then the urinal. This went beyond every submission/humiliation fantasy she'd ever had and it was making her almost dizzyingly horny. She threw the used paper towels into the wastebasket, selected a fresh one and turned to face him, raising herself to her knees in preparation for cleaning off his cock.

She stared at it longingly for a moment. It was every bit as large as she had so often imagined it and now it was right there in front of her face. She wanted so badly to... No. She was going to complete her task and that was all. She raised her hand clutching the paper towel, tentatively reached out towards his cock...and stopped. She had suddenly become aware of the coarse brown paper in her hand; it felt rough and scratchy--suitable for scrubbing floors and urinals but not...

On impulse she dropped the paper to the floor. She raised her eyes to his and held his gaze as she bent and awkwardly removed her panties. She held them up in front of her with both hands as if offering him the little scrap of lacy pink fabric she'd chosen so carefully to wear for him only a few hours—and another lifetime—ago. After a moment she saw consent in his eyes, along with a hint of amusement, which pleased her greatly.

She put the panties over her hand and began to pat him dry.

She tried very hard to simply complete her task and then return to her position, really she did. And she'd succeeded in patting him very nearly dry. Was it her fault if there were still a few droplets clinging to the hairs on the front of his balls? She had to get them off as well, didn't she?

True, it hadn't been absolutely necessary to cup his balls in her panty-covered hand and stroke them with the heel of her palm in order to clean them off. And yes, admittedly, curling the fingers of her free hand around his shaft while she did so wasn't entirely for the sake of keeping her balance. And there was really no excuse for it when, a moment later, her mouth descended on the head of his cock and she began tonguing it frantically.

So she was not entirely surprised when he seized her by the hair and yanked her to her feet--the panties falling to the floor—or even when he shoved her back against the wall between two urinals and used the leash to tie her there with her arms spread wide.

She was, however, a little disturbed when he tucked his cock back into his pants and left.

She wondered if this was to be the punishment for her impulsive behavior—to be left there until the custodian or maybe even an early flier the next morning discovered her. She imagined an endless line of men coming through—fondling her, using her, leaving her tied there all day. She imagined him leaning against the row of stalls, watching...and once more she let out a groan of arousal.

A few moments later he returned. He was carrying his overnight case in one hand and had her dress draped over his other arm. He hung her dress over one of the stall doors then set his case down at her feet and crouched to open it. He withdrew a long, white box with an elaborate red bow and stood up again. He offered it to her with a mocking smile, knowing that she was unable to take it from him.

She was puzzled—if he had brought her flowers it was very thoughtful of course, but why was he giving them to her now? When, however, he removed the box lid with a slight flourish she saw that she had misjudged him considerably. For there, lying on a pad of white cotton, was a large Hitachi vibrating wand.

He removed the wand and tossed the box aside. With his free hand he picked her panties up from the floor and stuffed them into her mouth.

Then for the next twenty minutes he tortured her with the wand. He massaged her stomach, and then her breasts and then her nipples with it. He nudged her legs apart and ran it up and down her thighs, always with excruciating slowness, always moving a little further inward...and upward...but never once touching her where she most desperately wanted it. She writhed and squealed and moaned and babbled through her panties, to no avail. He kept her right on the very edge of orgasm—not to mention a complete breakdown—for longer than she would have ever dreamed possible.

Then, just when she had nearly resigned herself to living forever in this twilight hell where release was always just a few seconds away, he suddenly lifted the wand and pressed it firmly against her clitoris.

It was as if a bolt of lightning had struck between her legs. The shock ran up her spine and threatened to tear the top of her head off. And this was before he tossed the wand aside, took out his cock and, seizing her by the hips, began to fuck her--hard.

She screamed through the panties in her mouth as she came. A few minutes later she screamed again, for the same reason. She did not scream the third time, even as she felt him spurting inside her as he continued to thrust—but that was only because she was very nearly unconscious by then.

Later she was dimly aware of a sharp, momentary pain in her shoulders as her arms were released...a sense of falling forward...being caught in his arms and gently lowered...and then sudden cold against the entire back of her body. Her eyes flickered, and she awoke to find herself lying on the bathroom floor. The panties were gone from her mouth; her head and shoulders were cradled in his lap and he was gently brushing her sweat-soaked hair away from her face.

She smiled up at him, a little weakly, and he slowly bent down to kiss her. "Hello," he said softly, then grinned as he added, "Nice to meet you." He kissed her again and said, "I don't know about you, but I'm a little tired—can we go home now?"

He helped her to stand and then to dress, smiling his approval when she kept her collar and leash on. Together they went to fetch their coats and then walked out of the airport to her car. They walked slowly, with their arms around each other's waists, as her legs were still feeling rubbery. They walked in a silence that was now completely comfortable for both of them. She leaned her head on his shoulder, glancing up at him once in a while to remind herself that he was really there.

She had planned to take him to her flat. But it was more than an hour's drive and they were both exhausted so they checked into a nearby hotel instead. But as it turned out they didn't get much sleep anyway.