Home of Zebra Rose’s NSFW Creative Works
In the house of my psyche, she resides below ground level. Down in the deepest cellar, in her soft-furnished boudoir she sprawls across a four-poster bed, naked and tousle-haired and ready for mischief. Across her skin are scrawled the scars of a hundred lessons imperfectly-learned; crossed-out names and instructions ignored. She’ll flaunt them with insouciance, they are a challenge and a come-on. “Can’t catch me” they mock silently; and “is that all you’ve got?”.
After reading Jadis Liddell’s inspiring post about cock-sucking skills, my mind started working in a kinky direction (no change there then) and I envisioned cock-sucking lessons with a stern Mistress. Obviously, at that point I had to kick off my knickers and grab a big flexible silicone dildo to properly explore the scenario in my mind. After two – one leisurely and one frenzied – orgasms, I’d honed the scene to my liking. This is the result.
I’m a terrible show-off and teacher’s pet. I just have to be top of the class, otherwise I feel….cheated. Sitting here with my fellow-students at these desks, I can feel that familiar driving need to excel, setting my jaw and squaring my shoulders. We are not here to learn History or Maths or Physics. We are here to hone our oral skills. And I’m not talking about a debating club.
I love a man in a suit. Well, I love the idea of a man in a suit anyway – sadly many actual men who habitually wear suits are dickheads.
So, hello unknown Men In Suits. Do you know what the sight of you does to me? Can you tell what’s going on in my head when I catch sight of you?
A well-fitted suit speaks to me of power, authority and responsibility. I want to submit to that power, feel that authority. I yearn to break through that professional detachment and make you forget your responsibilities until you can see only me, feel only me, want only what I can offer you.
This is a kinky fantasy of mine – I’m not a 24/7 lifestyle sub and I’d hate to be under someone else’s control all of the time, so being a slave isn’t something I’d want to do for real. But pretend, part-time sexual slavery….oh yes….oh yes please…..
Tonight is the night. We’ve negotiated the scene carefully, establishing hard and soft limits, safewords and safecues. He’s curious and slightly nervous at the idea of power I’m putting into his hands. I’m hyper-aroused by the prospect, wondering how he will choose to exercise it.
He greets me at the front door with our usual kisses – both tender and hungry, wordlessly telling each other of our sheer joy in being reunited.
