words : 8.6k
warnings : all explicit smut: slight dom!Tom because he's pissy from all the teasing, use of a plug (not an*l), half-accidental spitting, Tom restrains y/n's hands, blowjob, face fucking, a bit of cum play (ofc, it's me :D), pussy slapping, fingering, multiple orgasms
~ ⛳️ ~
Strike Two - iii
The sun peeks through the clouds as you step out of the course after the guys. The air is swarming with a soft heat, heightening the impatient tingle between your legs. Nevertheless, you walk into the parking lot with a satisfied smile on your face. It was a great morning, all things considered.
Your mood doesn't go unnoticed by Tom, of course. He sidles up to you and drapes an arm around your shoulders, both strolling leisurely behind the other three.
"You did kinda good today," he says, "I mean, golfing. About the other thing, ummm..." He chuckles and seems to hesitate, dropping a kiss on your temple. "Yeah, the other thing you did kinda great."
You look at him sideways, grin titillating on your lips. "I know."
"Oh! Keeping it humble, I see." He laughs. "You know you can drop the sass now, too, by the way."
"Oh, well, hm, I dunno? I still have the, um, y'know, so technically it's not over yet."
"You haven't taken it out yet?" You hum and shake your head. "I thought you would in the locker room."
"No. I didn't." You smile up at him. "I figured, you were the one telling me to put it in, you should tell me to get it out too."
"I didn't think about it like that, but. You can. If you want. Take it out, I mean. Unless..."
"I like 'unless'."
"You do?"
You hum with a nod now, helping him put down his club bag and store it in the car. Harry and Harrison are still going on and on about some sort of bet they left unresolved while Mr. Holland is getting ready to drive you all back home. Thinking there's no moment like the present, you turn to Tom and say, "What do you want me to do?"
"Are you comfortable?"
"It's practically slipping out, but it's manageable," you shrug. The shape of the plug is very obvious right now, sort of at a weird angle that makes it feel as though it is halfway out because it's poking your outer lips so much. Your undies keep it in place, but it's all in disarray by now.
"Are you sure?" he checks, "Wouldn't you rather take it out now?"
"Mhmm. I think I can wait a little longer."
"Until we get home," Tom says. Or rather, commands.
"Until we get home," you reiterate, looking around at the rest of the group to see if any of them is paying attention. Doesn't seem like it. "If we go right now, that is."
"Of course." Tom grins in his witchy way. "Where else would we go?"
"Well, lunch." You tilt your head. "Your dad said your mum's making spag bol for everyone, remember?"
"Guess we're not going to lunch."
When you grin at each other and seal it with a quick kiss, the Harries — you have to admit, the name is sort of catchy — start making gagging noises, so to shut them up, you go around the group giving out kisses on their cheeks. You start with them and end with Tom, of course, stealing another peck from his mouth when they aren't looking.
"I can hear you giggling!" Harry complains loudly as he's getting into the car, making you giggle even louder. As revenge, you push Tom into the backseat and slide in right after him. Grinning at Harry when the door finally closes. "Oh, for fuck's sake, are you serious right now?"
If you give Tom silly kisses on the mouth only to make Harry mad, Tom never stops you. Eventually, however, you do sit up straight in the car, chatting animatedly about this and that.
You can't move around much because the plug is almost horizontal right now, the tip brushing the rim of your entrance, probably too wet and slippery to stick to a single spot. So by the time you get to the Hollands' house, you have been sitting quietly looking out the window and silently praying that nothing is noticeable when you walk out.
No one makes a comment about it, so you think you're safe, but immediately Tom sets the plan in motion and announces you two won't be staying for lunch anyway. Harrison does stay, saying he'll meet you later, so it's just you and Tom in the car on the way home.
The first thing you want to do is adjust the plug so it's settled comfortably inside you again. You sit in an awkward way, your butt in the middle of the seat, pushing your skirt up ignoring Tom's gaze.
"What do you think you're doing?" he asks, moving his hand from the ignition button to your thigh. He lets it rest there for a while.
You turn to him and blink your lashes languidly, saying, "Adjusting the plug. It's not really in me at this point."
"Hmm." He doesn't say anything else and retrieves his hand to start the car, so you proceed with your idea.
First you pull the plug out, then slide it all the way in, moaning when the shape stretches past your clenched muscles. "Fuck, that felt good."
"Now, that doesn't sound like you're only adjusting the plug, young lady," Tom says in his warning voice, grunting right after. "You'd better stop." He pauses. "Hands on your lap, c'mon."
"Hmmm," you hum, twirling the plug around and sliding it out again. "No." This time, you pull it out completely, even out of your knickers, letting the bright sunlight shine down on the white and translucent fluids that cover it. "Look at this, Tom."
"No." That's all he says before you feel the car slowing down. You notice there's not enough traffic to justify doing that, but Tom takes your slight distraction and reaches over to pluck the toy out of your hands. With his eyes on the road and his other hand tight around the wheel, the same clench from this morning on his jaw, he twirls the plug around your pussy over the panties, then past the edge, looking for your hole to slip it inside.
"Keep doing that, yeah," you tease, jerking your hips around so that the toy keeps rubbing your clit and upper lips. It feels good. Warm and hard. Perfect to work towards your first high of the day.
"Fucking—" Tom starts, growling, but you miscalculate your motions and the plug slides into you the next time he moves his hand. "There you go," he adds, pulling your panties to cover you and patting your mound. "That's a good girl. Now keep your hands on the bloody dashboard, y/n."
You obey with a smirk. Teasing him to the point when he's grunting orders at you is the absolute best. He gets this resolute look in his eyes, his whole face incredibly tense, jaw almost cracking from how hard he's grinding his teeth. After, he slaps the inside of your thigh and squeezes the flesh in his hand, keeping it there the rest of the ride.
This is exciting, your cunt clenching around the plug as you watch him drive, his mouth in a tight line and his tongue swirling around. He's got this expression as though he's scheming something, which makes your hips twitch on your seat.
You sit back properly, hands where he told you to put them, and wonder what kind of ideas he's having right now. You have a few of your own, most of them being some way to get Tom to make you climax several times in a row in different positions or on top of different pieces of furniture in one of your bedrooms.
The first thought goes to the armchair in his room, low, narrow, your back glued to his chest if you ride his cock; the second, against your chest of drawers as there's a mirror nearby, but the one that gets you the most excited is the third thought. Because honestly you don't think he's gonna be able to wait until he's home. He's probably just gonna park the car in the garage and throw you to the back seat, lift your skirt and fuck you doggy style with your mouth agape, fogging the window. You could bet on it from the way he's squeezing your leg and tapping his foot frantically on the floor of the car.
You'd lose, though. He does wait. He even makes it dreadful. Tom walks you out of the car, offering you a chivalrous hand, and he walks slowly up the stairs to your floor instead of using the elevator, still hand in hand, fingers tight around yours.
There's a short moment of held breaths when you take too long to unlock the front door, but as soon as it's open and closed behind the both of you, Tom attacks. Mouth on yours, tongue battling for dominance, his hands around your arms as you both stumble towards the bedroom. Yours, since it's closest.
When you get there, you're already naked from the waist up, a trail of your shirt and bra across the floor of the hallway. You pay them no mind, continuing to kiss Tom with every ounce of breath you have in you.
"Off, off," you whine against his lips, pulling on the collar of his polo shirt.
Tom tuts and pushes you aside, stealing a hard kiss from your lips that makes you weak on your feet. You stumble and he's there to catch you, but then he isn't there anymore. He's on his way out of the room.
"Where are you going?"
"To pick up your mess," he says as though it's obvious, walking back in with your clothes in his hands.
"Oh, so sock graveyards are welcome, but clothes shed in time of need are not?"
"They are not," he claims, his south London accent thicker than ever. That can only mean one thing. He's in a mood. The ones that have always ended with you on his bed, boobs rising and falling breathlessly, his own chest panting heavily, as you both collected yourselves.
You love his moods.
Which is why you smirk at him, stretching your arms to wind them around his shoulders. He stops you with a hand on your chest, however, right over your left breast.
"Here's what's going to happen," he starts, wiping his tongue across the top row of his teeth. "You did all you wanted to do, said all you wanted to say at the golf course. So now you're gonna be quiet. And compliant. And you're gonna do as I say. Do we have a deal?"
"I'll take this deal," you say gracefully. "Should I call you Mr. Holland?"
"If you want... but you're not gonna be doing a lot of talking anyway," he threatens, his leg creeping in between yours. You swear he can feel the wet of your cunt even though he isn't even touching you there yet.
Then he kisses you. Hard. With intent. Making your eyes roll into the back of your head as your body turns to mush. It's incredible what this man can do with nothing but a kiss and a few nips of his teeth on your lips.
He distracts you with a swirl of his tongue on the roof of your mouth, making you moan, and suddenly he's palming you through your clothes.
"So fucking wet," he mumbles around your lips, collecting them again before you even have time to inhale a full breath.
You notice the trickle of his fingers, scouting your hips for the waistband of your skirt. He finds the hidden zipper on the side, dragging it open as his sharp taste penetrates your senses, and pushes the garment down until it slides off your legs on its own. The silent sound of fabric on wood fills the room and filters through your ears. Before you know it, Tom's probing around your crotch, avid in his hunt, first for the edge of your underwear, then reaching inside and pulling the plug in one go. It slides out too easily from all the hours soaked in your cum.
Holding it at the level of your eyes, Tom stops the kiss and tilts his head when you lean beggingly for another round. Your lips end up finding his and he concedes, but only for a second. By then, he's reached for the top of your panties and pulls them down brutally, ripping his lips from yours. You whine at the loss and bend down for more, but he's looking down and helping you step out of your clothes and shoes.
Tom keeps you at bay with his free hand, listening to you whine and wail for his touch. Instead, he shows you the plug again, all wet, the liquid starting to ooze down his fingers.
"Tom—" You grab for his collar and pull, but he only tuts and shakes his head in disagreement.
"Wanted this so bad in your mouth earlier today, didn't you?" he asks, clearly not expecting an answer, as he pokes your lips with the tip of the plug and runs it across the top one. He traces every spot of your skin, eyes on yours, teasing with haught. "Guess who's gonna get what she wanted?"
As he speaks, Tom licks your lips until you spread them ajar, but before you can kiss him, he slides the plug in between them. You hum loud, half in a question, half in delight, feeling the clink of the base where it settles against your teeth.
"How does that feel, huh?" he asks, voice shaking but borderline malicious. Tom grabs the back of your neck with a hand and swipes his thumb over the plug, his eyes seeking yours with a question buried in them. You can't talk, and you don't want to moan because the ones that escape are too desperate and you don't want to cave just yet. But you do nod, letting him know you're open to anything he wants to try today.
Tom nods back, a little smirk creeping on his face.
"Look at you right now, mouth stuffed with your precious plug," he says, licking your cheek. You're sort of restrained, forced to keep quiet, but you love this control he has on you. The clench of your pussy around nothing should feel soothing after hours of squeezing a plug, but now you miss it. Miss the poke of the tip on your walls, the curve of its shape teasing your spot.
"Tastes so good, doesn't it?" he asks, sweetly now, eyes like liquefied honey. "I bet it does. Your cunt's the best I ever tasted. Sweet and bold, just like you. Lemme try—"
Tom brings a hand between your legs, circling your entrance. Your hips grind down on his wrist, looking for friction, clit begging for attention, but he's still only teasing. Two fingers tracing your hole, but never even slipping inside. Not even upward even though he loves to tap your sensitive nub. Driving you mad. Forcing your eyes closed as you chase around his touch.
When it's gone, you flutter your eyes open only to find him mouthing around his index and middle fingers, humming satisfied.
"So good. Cum thick like blood," he praises, licking his fingers clean, even the ones that haven't touched you yet. "You've wanted to come the whole morning, haven't you," he puffs a small laugh. "Filthy little thing."
You have to moan, it's too much now. Too much of his grip around your neck. His chest too close. Your head tilts backward and you whine, tonguing around the plug to collect the last drops of taste. You were never too fond of it, too self-conscious about it, but his words make everything taste like heaven. Even your own spunk.
Jerking your body forward, shoulders first, Tom's chest stops you before you get any closer. "Tsk, no no no no, you don't deserve to come unless it's on my own terms, young lady."
So you press yourself into him, hands clasped tight around his collar, trying to nuzzle your nose under his chin, but he grabs you before you can. You whine. Helplessly. Unable to even beg what you want him to do, mouth too full.
"I had an idea," he suddenly announces, moving his hand to tug on one of your wrists. Telling you to let go of him, so you do so with a final breathy hum. When you lower your arms, he says, "I'm going to do a couple of things. If you don't like them, you can tell me."
You nod since you can't speak.
"Hold on—" he says, reaching for the base of the plug. "Open," he says. Then his head tilts, eyes wide. "Slow-ly."
You nod and spread your lips ajar, half of an inch at the same time. Tongue resting in its place. There are strings of saliva everywhere, from your mouth onto the plug, more than obvious when Tom starts removing it in slow motion.
"Gorgeous, look at all this spit," he hums and licks it off, making you tip your head forward in the hope he'll let you taste him too.
He doesn't, of course. He brings his hand back to your head and grabs a fistful of your hair, however he can, keeping you in place as he lowers the plug.
"Alright. Now. As I was saying, if you don't like something I'm about to do, you tell me." You start to nod again, so he adds, "Say yes if you agree."
"Yes."
He nods. "If you start to like them, but afterwards you don't want me to do them anymore, you tell me."
"Yes."
"If you can't speak but want to tell me to stop, snap your fingers. Can you snap your fingers for me right now?"
You snap your fingers, twice with each hand, exemplifying what he asked.
"You do that and I'll stop." You nod. "You tell me to stop and I will. Immediately." You nod again, watching the tug of his lip like he's forcing himself not to smile. "Do we have a deal?"
"Yes."
"Good," he says with a smirk at last, pecking your nose. "Thank you."
In a split second, his lips crash onto yours. Deep and hot and restless. His nose breathing steadily despite the hunger behind his action. If he weren't holding you up, you'd be fucking done by now, down on his feet with your neck tilted back, begging silently for more. Since you can't, you push forward with your mouth, but Tom pushes right back, a messy combo of spit and teeth, and you stumble all over your feet. Falling into his welcoming chest.
When he breaks away, Tom's eyes are huge and dark, lips pink and swollen. A flush seeping across his cheeks.
He keeps his strong hands on your arms as he looks around. You stay quiet even though he never said you couldn't speak now that your mouth is free. Perhaps you've just jinxed yourself because Tom moves one of his arms and wiggles the plug in front of your face again.
He pokes the corner of your mouth with it, just once, and you open up, waiting for the metal taste to slide over your tongue again. You twirl it around to make it comfortable, keeping it steady and trying not to get distracted from everything else.
It's a small gag ball, something you never thought you'd like to try, but Tom brings a thrill of desperation to any kinks he introduces you to. That's why you love sleeping with him. There's always something new, something bolder than last time, and yet he never, never stops being a gentleman to you.
"Stand here, turned to the chest," he requests, grabbing your shoulders and placing you however he wants. You're facing your dresser, your side to the closet, the bed behind you.
He doesn't tell you what he's planning to do and you're not sure if that makes it exciting or terrifying. Perhaps it's the combination of both that has your skin littering with goosebumps.
With a sweet kiss on your cheekbone, a swifter one on your chin, he gazes you with hunger and says, in a low tone, "Kneel."
Your body obeys without thinking.
Not once did you ever think you'd drop down to the floor so fast at the mere sound of a five letter word. So simple, yet so rich. It has you daydreaming about his cock and nothing else, just from the notion of even seeing it in front of your eyes. There isn't much he can do while you're on your knees, your back to the bed as it is, and your mouth starts to water even more at the thought of the plug being replaced by something heavier. Larger. Longer.
Fuck, you're in for a fucking treat. Or for fucking torture.
It seems to be the latter because, after studying you for two seconds, Tom turns away and walks out the door. You whine for him around the plug. He never stops.
Taking a big gulp of breath now that you're alone, you try not to imagine what's going to happen next. You've got your cunt tightened around nothing, legs pressed together for a bit of relief, hands hanging loose. Skin starting to shudder, your insides twisted with lust.
"Fuck, fuck," you mutter to yourself, sitting back on your heels, wiping a finger quickly over your pussy and feeling how wet you are. It's a surprise you're not dripping anywhere because the amount of fluid wraps around your finger within seconds.
Since you can hear his steps walking back, and don't want him walking in on you doing something that ends up with him not touching you again, you return your hands to your side and play safe.
"I trust you've been good," he says as he steps into the room, "that you didn't touch yourself while I was gone."
You nod, starting to lie, but a change of mind makes you shake your head instead.
"You did?" You confirm, seeking his eyes. "And here I was thinking you'd be a good girl. Oh well. Your loss."
When you look up properly, you realize he's carrying one of the chairs from the kitchen. He places it behind you since there's room between you and the bed.
"I was going to let you get off, but good things don't come to bad girls, do they?" You stare at him and swallow in dry. "Pathetic."
"Spread your legs and feet," he adds, kicking one of your shins lightly. You readjust your position in order to obey, keeping your knees at the width of your shoulders and spreading your feet until the chair fits in between your calves. Fuck, this means you won't be able to move at all soon. The back of the chair against your own back, close enough that you touch it with your head if you tilt it only a few inches. Not to mention that you won't be able to close your legs either.
Fuck. Fuck. He really just made your life much harder. Release is a far-off concept you probably won't be going to meet soon. Fuck.
"Does it hurt?" he asks. You shake your head no in response.
Then he heads to the door again.
"Hmph!" you whine, plug heavy on your tongue, turning your head in the direction where he went.
Tom twists around his axis when he hears you. Face set as stone.
"Shut it."
He actually looks kind of scary right now, every fiber in him set on a mission to drive you crazy. And he's just about getting there.
"And keep your hands to yourself this time. I'm not fucking around."
You nod, but he's already left. Even the sound of his voice when he talks like this makes you wet. Looking down, you can see it running down your thighs, pooling on your skin from all his teasing. The fact that he doesn't even touch you is what puzzles you so much.
After a short while, he comes back carrying a few of his belts. Different shades of brown, one thinner than the others, all faux leather and heavy-looking. You're surprised he even owns so many. You do hope he doesn't intend to spank you with them. A hand, you'd be able to handle, but nothing like this.
Yet when you widen your eyes at him, so ready to shake your head, fingers in position to snap, he says, "I'm gonna tie your hands together. We've done that before, is this okay?"
You nod. Once. Curt. Relieved. When you exhale your apprehension away, Tom doesn't move a muscle.
He twists your arms onto your back, one by one, allowing you to bend them as you wish, and then sweeps the belt beneath your hands, inserting the edge through the buckle and clasping the leather around your wrists. It binds them together steadily, but quite softly. Even the smell and its gentle touch where it lands on your naked feet is soothing.
"How does that feel? Is that okay?" he asks over and over, making sure you're in line with his wish. You nod every time, plug still lodged in your mouth as he continues to check on you in preparation for what's to come. "Can you move your hands for me please?... Good girl. And can you snap your fingers?... Perfect."
He still has two more belts on the floor. You inspect them as he pulls on your restraints, making sure they're not too tight. After, he chooses the thinnest belt and ties his previous bind to the bars on the back of the chair. This won't allow you to move much, you experiment only to confirm as such.
You try to move back, but the chair is blocking you.
You try to lean forward, but the belts stop you after only a few inches.
And you figure that once Tom is standing in front of you, you won't have much room to move a lot. To a certain level, it could be a worry, but it sounds arousing as fuck. Especially since, in the back of your mind, you still have the image of his cock replacing the plug.
"Alright, baby girl, last check. Nod for yes. Shake your head for no," he says, exemplifying as though he wants to certify that you understand.
Then he asks more questions.
"Are you comfortable?" Nod.
"Are your hands okay?" Nod.
"Snap your fingers." You do as he asks.
"Can you squeeze your legs together?" A shake of your head.
"Good. Good. You weren't supposed to anyway," he teases, smirking down at you. The little tease. He's lucky your mouth isn't empty or he'd hear something just as cheeky in return.
That thought dissipates when Tom grabs your chin, squeezing it hard as he tilts your head up. The belt around your wrists makes it so that it feels like he's stretching your spine past the point it naturally does, your shoulders raising until his mouth is hovering over yours, breath insanely hot on your lips.
"Gonna make that pussy throb for me the whole day."
He kisses your mouth, or better the end of the plug that's still resting in there. Twisting it around with his lips. You moan as it rests over your tongue and clatters against your teeth.
"Look so pretty with your mouth full like this," he whispers against your skin. His thumb swipes excruciatingly slowly over the base of the toy. Then he scoffs. "Wonder what else I can fill it up with."
Your body snaps back when he lets go, shoving you like he's throwing away something he doesn't want. Although it should feel degrading, being treated like this is a huge turn-on. He's harsh but never too much, careful at points, and you thrive off of that.
The silence is overpowering when you blink. Tom has a look of cold lust in his face, eyes sunken into yours, and you adjust yourself so you're in its range. A deep buzzing of desire grows in your belly, filling you whole.
Finally, he stands up tall in front of you and to no surprise, starts undoing his trousers. Langorously. Diligently. Palming himself in the process and humming low, one of his thumbs on the corner of your mouth as the zipper drags down. He brings your face forward and turns it to the side, humping your cheek, slow and teasing, the shape of his cock hard against pliant flesh. You can see everything in the mirror, and you'd look ridiculous in any other situation, but not like this. Not when you've got Tom manhandling you as he pleases.
"You're making me so hard, baby girl," he murmurs, looking down at you with his lips spread. A glint of spit over them. "Look so gorgeous on your knees for me."
When he lets you go, you make an unwanted whine of loss, but he ignores it so you swallow it down. The plug makes it hard for you to control anything that goes on in your mouth, but you let it happen. Let things flow however Tom has envisioned them. He tugs on his trousers only a little bit, keeping them open as far as they go, and shoves his briefs down so that his cock stands up for attention between the v of his clothes. He's fully dressed, you completely naked, the stark contrast growing a pool of pleasure in your pulsing cunt.
Tom pumps himself, letting a ball of spit fall from his mouth onto the head of his cock, spreading it around along with the pre-cum that weeps out of the tip, before he pokes your face with it. It feels wet and sticky, the odor filling your nostrils and swirling in your brain, attractive as ever.
"You want my cock, don't you?" he whispers teasingly, voice like soft fur. You nod in response, silent, looking up at him with a plea in your eyes.
"But do you deserve my cock, baby?" You start to nod, but change your mind the second he starts to say, "Tell me the truth. Do you think you deserve it?"
You shake your head. It's what he wants anyway, it doesn't really matter what you think, does it?
"That's right," he breaths with a chuckle, still pumping himself up to full size. "You really don't, but I'm gonna give it to you anyway. Gonna fuck your mouth raw, baby girl."
He pulls the plug out and throws it towards the bed, but before you even take a breath in, he slides the head between your lips. You hum around its shape, mostly out of surprise. He moves gently at first, his hand flat at the base, making it seem like he's going all the way in on the first go.
You welcome it without a sound of protest, lips stretched wide and starting to itch. At first, you choke on it as he keeps sliding in, so Tom pulls away, but he tries again in the next second. And again and again, sinking into you leniently until you don't choke on him at the fifteenth try.
He grabs the back of your head by then and settles himself inside your mouth, finding no friction and no obstacle. You're more than ready for him, craving him so, silent except for when he starts moving back and forth. The hums start to spill from your throat without you even thinking of them, hitching higher and higher as he goes faster and steadier. Less deep, but still at least halfway in. You choke on a couple of strokes, but this time he doesn't ease up. His fingers tighten on your hair and he makes you take it, makes you shut your eyes as your throat clenches.
"Fucking tight filthy mouth," he says, slowing down for a bit, both hands on your head. He pulls you forward all the way you can, keeping his hips still.
The sounds of his dick sliding between your wet lips are obscene, ratcheting him up even more. You can tell by the pitch of his moans and the fist on the back of your head.
You're trembling as he reels you in, his cock completely inside your mouth, nose touching the light hair on his skin. Your next inhale brings in the tantalizing musk of his sweat as he holds you there, caressing the crown of your head.
When you look up, his mouth is spread in a silent gasp, his eyes starting to flutter when you swallow around him. Trying to squeeze your legs together is an impossible task, so you settle for wishing you could as you clench around the empty. Relishing the fluids that are now obvious as they slide down your thighs.
Suddenly, Tom pulls out all the way, head hanging off your bottom lip like a pen, leaking over your tongue in salty drops. You take a few deep breaths since he's not moving anymore, gazing up at him with every intention of asking for more.
"Enough teasing, don't you think?" He smirks as though he can hear your thoughts.
You nod, but before he can compose himself, you launch forward and mouth his cock, taking it as far as it goes in one motion.
"Fuck, so greedy," Tom hisses but doesn't stop you, instead letting go of your head and holding the base of his cock in one hand, the other running up and down his chest and belly, scratching the fabric of his shirt and showing off the ridge of his muscles.
Now he fucks into you at a slow pace, gaining speed by the second, keeping it steady, hand at the base, moaning his head off and praising your mouth.
"Can you believe this is the only way to keep you quiet?" he hums, muttering every word at the same pace he shoves his dick in you, your eyes pressed shut tightly as you take his thrusts. "Push my cock down your throat until you choke. Fuck, fuck yeah, holy-mouth made-in-heaven, wasn't-it? Oh fuck. Will take anything I fucking give you."
He's relentless now, fucking you harder and much faster, your moans as wrecked as his and he's not even doing anything to you. Your pussy is all clenched but it doesn't feel good, only empty. Desperate for any action. You imagine you could rub your thighs together, get some friction. Your fingers twitch as though you can slide them up your cunt. Just for a little slice of pleasure. But you get nothing. All you can do is keep your jaw slack while Tom fucks your mouth as he wishes.
At some point, he thrusts into you and your head drives back, hitting the chair behind you. With a hand on your forehead, Tom keeps you in place, the other hand coming around your chin, pulling it open as wide as it goes. Your jaw hurts, your tongue pangs under the salt of his sweat, but the rest of your body wants nothing more than Tom to tear you apart.
Holding your head stable, his cock more than halfway in, he fucks only the back of your throat. You're not even sure how he's doing this. All you know is that you're choking on the head of his dick, moaning around his girth. With all sorts of gagging noises that you can't avoid.
"Fuck. Listen to you. Pretty even when you're choking on cock. My cock, oh fuck."
You try to pull your head back, but it doesn't budge. Tom drags his thrusts a bit more, probably having noticed your resistance, but he doesn't slide out. Not even an inch. He only slows down. You moan desperately, trying to breathe, but your throat is clogged with him, so it comes out all strangled. Your core clenches impossibly tight.
Coughing when Tom finally pulls out, you heave and try to catch your breath as he wipes his hand across your cheek. Soothing now. As if he knows you needed a break. Pumping his cock in his hand, shiny with your spit.
You gaze up at him briefly, fluttering your eyelashes, and you have to moan at the sight of the fire burning bright in his expression. There's no way not to. You moan and move forward, forehead leaning on his hip, taking big gulps of breath so you're ready for what's next.
"C'mere," he calls softly, hand cradling your chin. You let him position your head where he wants it, tilted slightly against the chair, mouth angled up, the column of your throat exposed.
The tip of his cock lines up with your lips again. "Open."
You obey, wrapping your lips around his head the second he tips it forward. This time, he starts slow, dragging inch upon inch of himself into your mouth as you allow him. You swallow around him, accommodating him, but once he's halfway in, he stops.
"Look at me." You obey. "Love when you look at me with those doe eyes, darling," he says, the drawl of the nickname raising shivers down your belly and into your pussy.
When he starts thrusting again, his moans are soft, just like yours. They resonate in unison through the bedroom, but soon yours grow louder when he pushes forward. You gag, hands tugging on the belt, but he only grips your chin harder.
"Take it."
You try to, but the muscles on your throat are too tight, too heavy. Defiant.
"Take it," he insists, pulling your face forward when you don't resist. In fact, your body grows soft, shoulders tucking in to press closer. And your mouth sucks back in the string of spit that gushes down the corner as his cock slithers inside at his will. "Thaaat's it, all the way down your bloody throat— oh shit, fuck, gorgeous little brat."
He eases back eventually, pulling out and sliding the length against your cheek. "Thought this was what you wanted, huh?" he taunts, patting the tip on the other side of your face. "No? Don't like your mouth too full? Well, that's too bad 'cause I got a load of cock to choke you with."
The next time he slides into you, he doesn't go as deep. His eyes glint with desire and pure want as his thumb wipes your drool. He does thrust hard, however, fucking your face in every sense of the word. Fast and hard, making you gag just the same.
"Fuck, so gorgeous, look like you'd like to feed off my cock to survive," he urges on, cradling your jaw. Voice starting to disappear with each word. "Hm, baby girl? Fuckin— Fuck. Bet you'd stuff your face with it like fucking chocolate."
Your eyes close in delight at the idea. A diet of tea and cock. What a thought. So fucking delicious your pussy starts clenching yet again.
He brings you closer, just one time, and you swallow his dick and gag it out, watching him pull back with balls of spit across his base. He's pounding into your mouth, moaning deep and low, but by now all you want is more. More of his hand on your hair and more of his cock, but you don't have a way to beg him for anything. You try to move your thighs up and down to get a little something, but Tom pushes down on your shoulder until you sit back on your heels and shoves the rest of his cock into your mouth.
You moan and gag, and the pleasure is all-consuming, swirling in your belly as well as in your head. Lighting up behind your eyelids while it spreads across your body and soul.
"Want me to come in your mouth?"
You try to nod but can't move because he's pressing your face into his lower belly again. You moan as you can, angry and loud, all wretched and needy.
"Snap your fingers for no. Spread your legs for yes," he instructs, so you spread your legs immediately, knees sliding on the floor until all the muscles in your body hurt.
Tom pulls out his cock and lets you breath, chest heaving fast. Your upper body launches forward, hands tugging hard on the belt when you can't move any more. He kisses you hungrily, lips and tongue and teeth smashed together in a frenzy, humming into your mouth with greed as his fingers wrap around your neck. Squeezing just enough to make you wheeze.
Then without warning he reels your head back and fucks his cock into you, keeping you in place as you moan and watch his face. He thrusts at a steady pace, eyes closed, mouth slanted to the side, a frown in his face as he chases his high.
"I— Yeah, fucking— fuck," he moans, fraught and croaky, sounding just as wrecked as you feel. He looks down at you, mouth ajar, grabbing your chin now and keeping only the tip between your lips. His hand flies to the rest of his cock and starts to pump, the moans spilling out at the same time as his cum coats your tongue. Hot and wet, a taste you'll never forget.
It seems to go on forever as he restarts to thrust into you, cock pushing in as your lips hurt from the stretch. You shout muffedly and try to help him ride it out, sunking in your cheeks and sucking with purpose, leaning close and using your tongue to soothe his orgasm and his pain. The frown on his face is gorgeous, eyebrows angled in, the little hairs prickled with beads of sweat.
"Fuck, fuck, baby girl, that was—" he croaks, not moving anywhere. His hand caresses your hair, across the crown of your head, but that's it. His cock is still buried inside your mouth, keeping everything in, although his cum starts to slide out the corner of your mouth.
You hum to grab his attention, try to shift to the side so he'll open his eyes. When he does and gazes down at you, his attention focuses on your mouth immediately, thumbing at the corner and pushing the white fluid back inside, his finger jabbing into your mouth alongside his shaft, stretching your lips into a crooked smile.
"Fuck." He sighs afterwards, and you notice how his body unclenches and relaxes. The frown disappears. His mouth twists into a smirk.
"What a waste of a mouth when it's not filled with my cum," he says before he pulls out, pushing your chin up so you'll look him straight in the eye.
"Don't swallow," he orders, cock springing in front of him whenever he moves. His thumb caresses your cheek as he says, "Savor it." He kisses the corner of your mouth. "Feed off of my seed, baby girl."
You keep your eyes closed to fight the urge to swallow, humming in the back of your throat to let him know you're okay. You're more than okay, in fact, relishing in the memory of his face as he came. Pulse after pulse, upper body trembling like it'd been lit on fire.
Tom swipes his cockhead across your lips, over and over, tracing your mouth as if to memorize its shape. He pushes past your lips a little, sliding back in, and his cum drips out through the corners of your mouth again.
"Fuck, you look so filthy hot," he says, thrusting into you once and again, spreading sticky white everywhere. You open your eyes to find him watchful, eyes hot on yours. When he pulls out, it's all over your lips and your chin, as well as the length of his cock as it twitches in his grasp.
"You gonna swallow that now?" he teases, cock falling over his balls as he lets go. "Hm? You gonna swallow my cum like a hungry brat?"
His hand moves to your neck again, clutching you viciously. Fingers tingling the skin as though to remind you of where you are. You press into his palm and swallow everything, feeling the hot liquid burn your throat because his grip is so tight.
"Good girl," he praises and kisses you, alternating between your lips and the area around your mouth, like he's feeding you the stray ropes of cum. Moaning into your mouth when his tongue seeps inside.
Your brain is still swimming in pheromones by the time he breaks away, lips ajar and breathing heavy.
"And what do good girls get?" he says, kneeling down in front of you. "Good girls get to come."
Your head falls on his shoulder by instinct when you moan loud, his arm coming around your shoulder for support. You're finally gonna get your release, body shaking in anticipation at the mere movement of his hand.
Tom starts by turning you and the chair so you're facing the closet, able to see the sweat breaking through the pores, the light bouncing off of it in the mirror. He pulls on your restraints and you moan, delighted and tired, but not wanting to stop. You want his fingers, you want his mouth, you want everything he's willing to give you.
"Touch me..." you spare him a beg, leaning into him and spreading your knees.
His hand falls on your thigh, coming up first and slapping your cunt. You gasp, back arched in an impossible angle.
"I'll touch you when I fucking want," he snarls into your ear, pulling it into his mouth. Tom sort of makes out with it as his hand drags across your leg, teasing the inside curve and the spot where it meets your hip, but not yet reaching where you're burning and dripping.
Your hips buck forward, seeking his touch. He slaps you harder and on repeat, sharp little smacks as he bites the shell of your ear with a growl. But he doesn't pull away this time. No, he keeps his hand between your legs and starts rubbing your clit. So furiously it takes you only three strokes before you shake like a fucking leaf.
"Fuck, I'm coming, yeah, yeah—" you whine into his neck, slumping against his side. You can see yourself in the mirror through half-lidded eyes, trembling and shivering so hard the belt on your wrists digs into the skin.
You come, but it doesn't feel like relief. It barely feels like anything. It's like wanting to scratch an itch but your nails are cut too short. Instead the itch inflames even harder, the pulse of your cunt like pounding nails, so you mewl against him and keep your legs spread wide.
Tom's hand helps you come down and rests on your thigh, his mouth now softly wrapped around your ear. He kisses it and then down your cheek, finding your own lips when you turn your face to him. But it's like he knows, it's like he can sense that the shiver on your skin isn't one of satisfaction, because his hand crawls between your legs once more.
"Again," he grunts, kissing your ear stridently, "C'mon. You're gonna come for all the times you begged me for it today."
"Fuck," you sob when he touches you again, overstimulated from the previous orgasm. Tom's relentless now, two fingers quick to dip into your cunt as his thumb rubs your clit, bringing you up into the clouds in a matter of minutes.
"That's it, atta girl, come all over my fingers," he soothes you as you shake. You can't stop right now, it's too intense, the bliss of climax crashing over you as you collapse into Tom. Your knees are fucking killing you, your wrists raw and hurting from rasping against the belt. It's so overwhelming, and your brain feels like it's shorted out, all black and dazy, eyes refusing to open at all.
"One more," Tom says. Assertively, not like a question.
"Tom—" you whine, but you don't pull away. You're not even sure you want to stop. No matter how much your skin is on fire, legs hurting, neck aching from all the snapping and moving around.
"What?" Tom spits out, and then you realize he's actually spit on your face. It should be gross, but it's so erotic, your lips spreading open as his saliva coats them by sliding languidly into your mouth and down your chin.
"You wanted it so bad at the golf course, what's going on? Hm?" he goads, pumping his fingers into your pussy in deliberate strokes. Your clit pangs from the lack of friction now, and your hips kick forward looking for some.
"Thought you wanted to come so bad, baby girl," he keeps talking, the words going over your head right now. You're too focused, on his fingers and the way they crook against your spot, the way the heel of his hand hits right below your clit, but never where you really, really want it to be.
"Tom," you find yourself saying, not even sure where the energy is coming from. Your mind is a blank, throat thick from moaning. "My— Please—"
You're begging. For something. Words meaningless in your brain.
His fingers pull out of you and his hand comes down on your clit right away, making it hurt so deliciously, and when you try to open your eyes, you squeeze them shut right away because he's fingering you yet again. Shoving them into you and brushing your sweet, impatient spot.
Then you arch against him and tighten all around, clenching hard and crying out as you come. Your whole body spasms from the shock of a third hit, feeling it from the inside, clamping down around his fingers. Your hands lose all feeling as he rides it out, thumb pressing lightly over your clit. It hurts and your hips jerk back, your moans wretched and dialing down until you collapse.
You don't black out, but you're not sure how you're even alive. You're floating in post-orgasm bliss, leaning onto Tom so your body won't crumble.
When you blink your eyes open again, he's watching you back with huge, blown eyes. His mouth looks dry and a little withered, and you don't think twice before you kiss him hungrily, slicking his lips. Tom moans into your mouth as you make out. Ending up all soft, with his hands across your hip and the curve of your bum.
When the haze is over and your core stops fizzing, you break away with a sigh. Tom blinks at you, honey eyes exuding his triumph.
"You all right?"
"Yeah, yeah," you croak, clearing your throat. "Tired." Voice still packed with pleasure.
"Yeah, I can tell," he soothes you with a kiss on your temple. "You were so good, though. Can't believe you let me do some of that shit to you."
"It was amazing," you sigh into his mouth again. "Hope you liked it, too."
"Loved it," he grins, pecking your lips. "You're too damn good to me, baby girl."
When your shoulders slump into him, Tom reels you back.
"Lemme untie you first," he says. You only nod.
The restraints come off with a cling of his buckle, the leather swiping across your skin in a hot reminder of everything you went through. There's still a small weight of cum on your mouth, so you wipe at it with your finger.
"You like it that much, huh?" he jokes, gazing at you through his sweaty lashes.
"Like fucking chocolate."
He kisses you out of nowhere.
Pulling away one last time, Tom shows you the restraints and says, "Were these too tight?"
"No, they were fine..."
"I saw you tugging on them a couple of times," he explains, examining the belt that was leashing you to the chair and then the one he'd wrapped around your wrists.
"Just a reflex. I was trying to lean closer most of the time."
"I saw," he smirks, but then he stops. "Wow. You ripped it."
"What?"
Tom laughs. "Yep. My favorite belt is ripped now. In two spots," he says, showing you the two small tears in the leather.
"Not trying to escape, I promise."
Tom chuckles and kisses you, tongue rolling over your lips as he hums.
The belts fall on the mattress as you stretch your legs and try to get up, using Tom as a crutch until your knees stop shaking. Your head is still spinning a bit, most likely from being on the floor for so long. And yet a question still assists you, something you'd never noticed until now.
Tom brought three belts.
"Why'd you bring three belts?" you ask when you're finally standing without help, pointing at the bed.
"Ermmm..."
"Just a back-up?"
"I—" Tom hesitates, nipping on his lip. "No, not just a back-up. I, uh, wanted to use it, but decided against it in the heat of the moment."
"What was it for?" Your question is completely out of curiosity, but you'd be lying to yourself if you didn't admit that the glimmer of excitement in his eyes intrigues you.
"I'm gonna save that information for later," he deadpans, picking up your clothes from where they're still lying on the floor.
"What, you're not gonna tell me?!"
Tom chuckles, handing you your skirt. "I like surprises, y/n," he says rather mysteriously, balling up your panties in his hand and staring at them. "And I love the look on your face when I reveal them, sooo, um, yeah, I'm not gonna tell you right now." He clicks his tongue and throws your knickers into your chest.
You catch them and immediately feel the wet fabric in your palms, shaking your head to himself at how close to having ruined them you came. Everything in you shivers with delight at the memory of the attention he paid to you the whole morning and then, of course, the pleasure of watching Tom fall apart in your mouth.
"Now, shower or bath?" he asks out of nowhere.
"Bath," you say, smiling genuinely, "but only if there's snacks." Tom hums in agreement. "And wine. Oh! And bubbles."
Tom chuckles, joking, "And they call me a movie star..."
"Eh..." You dismiss his comment, but still don't feel like your bath would be complete, so you add, "And you, of course."
"Thought you'd never ask..." Tom kisses you softly.
That's what you end up doing in the bathtub shortly after. Tom lying down with his legs spread, you laying in between, pressed against his naked chest. His arms never come down from their spot around your middle, although his hands sometimes pop up to wriggle your nipples. You spend the longest time making out, though, heads turned to the side, neck hurting from the stretch.
It takes two servings of grapes, a bowl of cashews and two glasses of wine before you're completely satisfied. The bubbles are soft, the whole room smells like garden flowers — the extra nice™, expensive kind you expect there to be at Buckingham Palace — yet nothing compares to the bliss of lying in Tom's arms, listening to him sigh as he plays with your hair.
~ ⛳️ ~