Note: This story was dynamically reformatted for online reading convenience.
 
 David and Willow by {DaddyDom} (MF rom cons Mdom sm oral rough)
   They lay in the king size bed together.  His hand is on her knee,
friendly.  Comforting, but not sexual.  He doesn't push.
   "Did I give you enough space yet?" She looks at him, and raises her
eyebrow.  "Have I done the 'Sensitive Man' thing enough?" She laughs and
touches his arm.  "Because I really just want to slam you down on the
mattress and take liberties."
   She lays on his shoulder, touching the back of his hand.
   "I'd let you." He smiles, dark and mischievous.  He rolls on top of her
and pins her arms to the bed.
   "If you had any say in the matter..." He pauses, leaning down to chew
softly on one of her nipples.  She growls softly.  "That would be so
sweet." She smiles wickedly, then quickly covers her mouth, stifling a
small yawn.
   "You OK baby?"
   She stretches a little, yawning.  "Sleepy." He adjusts himself from the
dominant position, laying next to her.
   "Want to hit the sack?  We can take care of this in the morning." He
smiles, touching the swell of her hip.
   "Yes." She rolls towards him, arms wrapping around a pillow like a
security blanket.  He touches her hair.
   "S'okay.  We've got our entire lives to be together." She smiles and
squeezes the pillow.
   "I just can't keep my eyes open." He looks at her work clothes, so
carefully arranged on the hotel room chair.
   "You need the sleep.  You've got to be brilliant tomorrow." She nods and
he squeezes her hand.  "The letter...  and today...  you really know how to
show a boy you're serious." Her smile grows.  Her cheeks redden.
   "So it's not scary?" He smiles, but it's not enough to soothe her
concerns.  "Because I don't expect anything from you."
   "The fact that you listened to my work," he says, searching for the
right words.
   "I really don't expect anything.  I want you to know that." He finds the
words.  He's embarrassed.
   "It made me cry a little.  I know you don't expect anything.  But you'll
get it." He wraps his arm around her, and pulls her close.  She hides her
face in his chest.
   "Frankly," he says, playing with a stray lock of her hair.  "I'm a
little sick of God smacking us about the head with hints." He smiles and
says to no one in particular "We get it...  thanks." She giggles.
   "We can take it from here." She laughs again, and the tension broken,
she feels a little more comfortable with him.  She touches his chest
lightly with her fingers.
   "I know."
   "It's like having a friend constantly trying to set you up with
someone." She steals a quick kiss.
   "I wanted to have sex tonight, I really did.  But I'm so sleepy.  I feel
like I need something to distract me from the heaviness." He grins and
slides down her body.  He presses his lips to her navel, and blows a loud
raspberry.  She giggles.
   "That's not fair.  I'm ticklish." He smiles and takes her back into his
arms.
   "Don't worry, darling.  I'll never get so syrupy sweet that I can't hold
you down and discipline you." She purrs for him and he kisses her on the
nose.  "Now sleep well, wake up, and show everyone you're not just a pretty
smile and an amazing set of-" He pauses, nuzzling his face into her breasts
"Drafting tools." She bites her bottom lip.
   "Well maybe for a few minutes...  I could stay awake for this" She
throws a leg over him and traces little patterns in the sparse hair on his
chest.
   "So tell me about your mood right now?  Because this is your night. 
Tomorrow I'll take you how I please." She groans.  "But tonight I want you
to feel like a princess." She thinks for a moment.
   "I'm kind of turned on."
   "Yeah?"
   "But I sort of feel bad for it." He nods seriously.
   "Honest question...  do you care?" She bites her lip, but not in
pleasure this time.  It's a subconscious gesture of self punishment.
   "No." But she does.  He doesn't want that for her.  Not for tonight. 
She's given up so much for him.  She deserves this.
   "That's not a terrible thing...  at least not in relation to this
particular orgasm." He runs his fingers across her bottom.  "So then
tomorrow, feel terrible."
   He touches his fingers to her chin, and tilts her eyes towards his. 
"But tonight...  be with me?" She shivers.  His rough hand moves across her
stomach, sliding between her legs.  He touches her lips to his as his
fingers find their task.
   "Nice," she says softly.
   "Yes."
   He strokes her sex with his fingertips, tenderly, but with purpose.  She
parts her legs for him.  The kisses continue.  He shows her with lips and
fingers how badly he wants to make her burn for him.
   "Jesus, David...  I'm so slick for you." He grins, allowing himself a
moment of ego before returning to her mouth.  He pulls away for just a
moment.
   "Good." A finger finds it's way to her center, and she moans.  "Let's
never let that change." He continues kissing her, her lips, her throat. 
Biting gently on her shoulder.  His fingers continue to explore her.  She
arches her back, and moans.
   He's in no hurry, fingers always busy, but never in a rush.  He attends
to her button, but not exclusively.  The lone finger finds companionship,
and in that first moment of pain and intrusion, he presses his kiss-wet
lips to her earlobe and whispers that forbidden three word phrase.  She
groans.
   "Naughty," she whispers.
   "Yes," he says.  He runs a fingernail across the soft skin of her inner
thigh.  "I warned you...  In the bedroom...  your ass is mine." He rolls
her onto her side, and reminds her of that fact with a teasing fingertip.
She moans.
   "Of course...  how else will you show me I'm yours?" He smiles slyly.
   "Oh I like you." He brings his hand down onto her bare bottom, but
playfully.  He rubs away the sting with soft touches.
   "I can't help it!" he says as he navigates the gentle globes of her
bottom with his rough hand.  "You make me naughty, even when I just want to
be sweet." He gives her another swat.
   "Thank you..." She pauses for just a moment.  She has a finely tuned
sense of theater.  "Sir." He growls.  He rises to the challenge.  With firm
hands, he puts her on her stomach, spreading her legs.
   "I'm wet." He smiles, letting the back of his fingers trace her spine
from the nape of her neck to the swell of her rump.
   "How wet?"
   She giggles, a little self consciously.  "Messy wet.  For you." He
brings his hand down on her buttocks again, letting his fingers linger a
bit, exploring all of her charms.
   "Did it miss me?" His fingers make it clear exactly what he's referring
to.  She knows she should be embarrassed, but she's not.
   "Oh, yes." His fingers return to her.  He's not as tender as before, but
so much more passionate.  He hurts her a little.  She lets him.
   "Did you ever think about me?  Sexually?  Before all this, I mean?" She
pauses, and he smiles, touching her affectionately.  "There's no right
answer." He doesn't want her to lie to please him.  Not for an idle
curiosity.  She relaxes again.
   "No, I had no idea that we'd suit each other so well." He kneels next to
her on the bed, bending over to make eye contact with her.  His eyes are
calm and cold.  The hand comes down on her backside again, harder this
time.
   "I did.  Repeatedly." She smiles.
   "Really?"
   "Yes, at least every month." This time it's her moment of ego.  He laces
his fingers into her hair and tilts her head, kissing her neck.  She
whimpers.
   "But now I think about you all of the time," she whispers.  He smiles.
   "And I, you." It's true, but it's still a line.  "You're in my head, you
little brat." He likes that better.  He touches her with growing
impatience.
   "Right where you want me to be," she says, pressing into the touch. 
She'll play his game, but she likes to remind him where the true power
lies. He breaks character.  He smiles.
   "Yes...  God damn it, yes." He punishes her with an unexpected finger in
an unexpected place.  She grips the sheets.
   "Oh, God." She bucks a little, and he places a firm hand on the small of
her back, holding her in place.  He lets her feel the weight of the
slightly shameful sexual act.
   "Oh no, dear.  You'll bear it." Her eyes flutter closed, but he waits
for her full attention.  "Because it pleases me." She is blushing now.
   "Does it please you?" He nods.
   "It does.  Very much.  Tell me how you feel about that." He increases
the depth.  "Keeping in mind that, ultimately, I'm not going to stop." He
kisses her gently on the forehead.  "But I like knowing your mind."
   "It makes me crazy hot," she says.  She's broken out into full blush
now. She is lovely.
   "Tell me why?  The feeling?  The taboo?  The fact that it turns me on?
The control?" At each question he touches her, but never in the same way.
His free hand returns to her center, a present for her brutal honesty.  She
tries to keep her eyes open.
   "The feeling for sure.  The taboo, not so much." He smiles.  He approves
of her candor.  "I love that it turns you on.  And I love that you are so
in control."
   "Very good answer.  You know it's a pity you don't have hair down to
your ass anymore.  It would have been very convenient for binding your
hands behind your back." She arches back against his fingers, pleased by
the thought.  He ends her torment, fingers working again for her pleasure.
He doesn't let her up.  Not yet.
   "I had this fantasy of you tying my hands behind my back-" she reaches
for him, touching him with her fingers.  "And fucking me roughly from
behind...  while pulling my hair."
   He gives her a smoldering look.  "Oh, sweetheart, soon enough we'll just
call that 'Wednesday.'" He laughs, then she laughs.  The spell is broken,
but not.  The relief from the heat is temporary.  It returns.
   "Still wet for me?"
   "Uh huh." She squirms under his touch.
   "Soaked?"
   She holds his eyes.  "Yes, I'm soaked for you." He runs his fingernails
down her shoulder blades.  They leave little trails of red.  His fingers
stop, running over the butterfly tattoo.  An adolescent badge of rebellion,
she's self conscious of it.  He adores it.
   "I want to watch you get tattooed," he says, fingernails tracing the
wings of the butterfly.  "I want to hold your hand, and watch your eyes
while they work that little needle up and down your flesh.  I could get off
on watching you become a canvas for art, I think." She shivers.  He knows
this is one of her buttons.
   "Then I want to drag you into the alley behind, and fuck you the way you
deserve to be fucked." She growls softly.
   "I want that."
   "You'll have it.  You know I can't deny you." He kisses her, and is
surprised at her responding passion.
   "I want to take the needle for you." She grips him, not in practiced
lust, but eagerly.  She needs to have some feeling of control or she's
afraid she'll drown.  She's not even sure if she cares anymore.  "I want
you to watch, and tongue kiss me while the needle is piercing my skin."
   He takes her hand and roughly pulls it away from his body.  Tonight is
about her.  "Yes.  But I'm going to put something...  some secret or no so
secret part of myself into the design."
   "Yes," she whispers.  She reaches for him again, but he denies her.
   "The idea of marking you makes me burn."
   He touches the ink again, considering why.  "I want something that I'll
see whenever I undress you." His fingers follow the lines of the butterfly.
It's an apt metaphor for her sexual awakening.  "I want to see it and
remember the pain you went through to show the world you're mine." The
second metaphor is even more apt, if accidental.  She squirms.
   "You waited for the butterfly to emerge from her cocoon..." She touches
his hand.  "Then you made her yours."
   "Yes." It's egotistical, but he can't dispute it.  "I want to display
her.  I want to show this and remind the world that every time they fuck,
they're only coming close.  Fan-fiction.  The prize is taken." He
punctuates his statement with fingers.  She groans when he takes the away
again.
   "I need your hands on me so bad, David." He doesn't give them to her,
but he does caress her.  He touches her fondly.
   "How does it feel to be a butterfly?" He brushes his lips against the
small of her back.  She considers this an inperfection, calls it her "tramp
stamp," but he's fond of it.  Her mistakes are part of her story.
   "More beautiful than I could have imagined." He pins her to the bed, a
firm but patient hand encircling the back of her neck.  A collar made from
flesh.
   "Tell me you're beautiful." He touches her cruelly.  Torments her in
both sensation and question.  She is humble.  He won't allow it.  "I want
to hear you admit it."
   "I am beautiful...  when I see myself through your eyes." His hand moves
quickly, just a motion blur before it lands on her buttocks.  She cries
out.
   "Not good enough.  You're beautiful, with or without me." He squeezes
her bottom cruelly.  "Say it." She moans immodestly.
   "I am beautiful.  With or without you." He smiles, letting his fingers
sooth the sore flesh.  They fall again between parted legs.
   "You are a goddess.  Say it." His fingers no longer torment, only
reward.
   "I am a goddess..." She cannot keep still under the agile fingers. 
"Your goddess.  I want you so much." She does.  It's impossible to hide. 
His fingers find her secrets.
   "And I'll have you.  Over and over." She shivers.  The room is not cold.
   "Yes...  please." He takes the hand from her neck, using it to sooth her
slightly pink backside.
   "I'm happy that you're mine...  but-" He squeezes her bottom gently,
using his fingernails on the very edge of the sore flesh.  "You've always
been a goddess.  I have nothing to do with it." He touches her patiently.
"Now...  your breasts.  Tell me you have beautiful breasts." She slides her
hands under herself, touching them.
   "I do." She says it again, with more resolve.  She's starting to
believe. "I do.  My breasts are beautiful.  I love to touch them." He
smiles, turning his face so she doesn't see.  He breaks character just to
smile.
   "They are.  Do you believe in your beauty yet?" He rolls her onto her
back, taking her wrists gently crossed in his right hand and pins them to
the bed above her head.  He exposes her.  He will allow her no shame in her
body.
   "Yes..." She stretches, arching her back.  She displays her breasts. 
Crosses and uncrosses her legs.  "I do.  I feel beautiful." He smiles
again. She sees it and smiles back.
   "Good.  Because none of this-" The hand returns to her.  "None of you-"
He finds her clitoris, and pinches it gently between slippery fingertips.
"I am responsible for.  I'm happy I can make you feel like a goddess.  But
you always were." She struggles against his hand, but for him.  She's quite
happy to be "caught." "It just took me thirteen years to learn how to
worship."
   He takes her lips.  She fights him.  She's not content to simply be
kissed.  He alternates between rhythms with his fingers.  He taps, he
touches, he pinches.  He penetrates.  Their kiss is hungry, violent.  He
pulls his lips away.  The fingers remain busy.
   "Tonight isn't about us.  Tonight is for you.  You deserve this.  You've
needed this for a long time." His fingers are unsure, half wanting to
torment, half wanting to please.  He does both, alternating between stoking
the fires and letting them cruelly simmer.
   "God," she hisses.  She traps his hand with her legs.  "I can almost
feel you." He doesn't respond.  He has more to say.  He takes two of his
fingers, and gets her attention.
   "This is about you taking pleasure from life that you're fucking
owed..." His voice rides the curse word hard, punctuating it.  The
vulgarity pleases her.  "By the simple virtue of being exceptional." She
doesn't like the pride, the feeling makes her slightly ashamed.  He doesn't
allow it.  She will see herself for what she is.
   "No matter what happens...  this is who you are.  This beautiful,
sexual, exceptional creature." He squeezes her wrists hard enough to get
her attention.  His voice is cold.  His fingers are not.  "This is not you
'through my eyes' or any other romantic bullshit."
   He kisses her shoulder.  "You are fucking sexy."
   He kisses her collar bone.  "You turn my world on it's side.  Frankly
you have more power here than I hope you'll ever realize." He takes her
nipple between his teeth, and saws gently.
   "I missed that," she coos.
   "Just because I'm the type who'll pin you to the bed and call you a
slut..." He pauses, circling his tongue around her nipple, tongue exploring
the tiny gooseflesh-like bumps raised by her arousal.
   "Pull your hair..." He kisses the underside of her breasts.
   "Take a belt to you." His mouth moves lower, leaving a trail of damp,
warm, feather-soft kisses on her flesh.
   "Watch you suffer under a busy needle..." He parts her legs with
insistent hands.
   "It's only because I'm in awe of you," He releases her hands, more out
of nessecity, than desire.  She puts them into his hair.  She steers him.
   "I want to know you." He presses his lips to an imodest place.  Her toes
curl.
   "I want to experiement with you.  I want to watch you turn into this
amazingly powerful woman." He stops, losing character.  He smiles.
   "This is better than taking your virginity.  I'm done picking flowers
out of bloom." She doesn't smile.  She grips his hair and sets him back to
his task.  Her soft thigh moves across the muscles in his arm, coming to
rest on his shoulder.  She uses her leg to pull him closer.  He presses his
lips firmly to her.  He whispers secrets as he works.
   "When I say I've thought about you a lot, it's true," he says, using his
fingers to part the dewy petals of her flower.  "Some of those thoughts
were...  well...  Not always about holding hands." She strokes his hair,
rotating her hips.  She uses him for her own pleasure.
   "And yes, you owe me time," He uses his teeth on her.  He reminds her
who's in charge.  She uses her leg to pull him closer.  "I plan to take
every minute I'm owed, one way or another."
   "Yes," she hisses through gritted teeth.  She may not even be talking to
him, but that's not important.  He has things he needs to say.
   "Some days in bed I may be tender." He pushes her knees to her breasts,
kissing slowly across the sore flesh of her bottom.  She sighs.
   "Other days...  well." He bites her inner thigh, hard enough to leave a
soft red outline of his teeth.  She closes her eyes tightly.  She bears it.
   "Young David is owed his revenge.  And I intend to let him have it..."
He pushes a cruel finger into her.  She moans.  "With interest." She
smiles.
   "Mmhmmm," she parts her legs slightly.
   "I think you can address me properly, love." She grins.  It's a dash
wicked.
   "Yes, sir," she says.
   "Good girl," he says, stroking her with his lips and fingertips.  She
opens herself to him.  It's so hard to play the game.  To stay in
character. She surprises him.  He's not used to being surprised.  She takes
all the jaded "been there done that" out of his desire.  He sees sex
through her eyes.  He can't keep up the mask of conquering her.  It's too
obvious that it's the other way around.  He squeezes her sex,
subconsciously shivering at how excited she is.
   "Promise me you'll never lose your fire," he says.  The words are sharp,
sudden, like the order of a drill sergeant.  More forceful than he expected
them.
   "Never," she practically growls it.  "Not if you help me fan the
flames." He does.
   "I'll never stop." He reaches, takes one of her nipples gently between
his fingertips...  then not so gently.  She moans like a harlot.  "Promise
me you'll never let yourself be taken for granted.  Not by me.  Not by
anyone." He twists his fingers.  She bites her lip, stifling a too loud
moan.
   "Never again, baby." It's not enough.  He tugs her nipple roughly.  She
winces.
   "Even by me.  Say it." She forces his face back to her sex.  She shows
him she's perfectly capable of taking her own pleasure.
   "Especially not by you." He closes his eyes for a moment.  The energy
she's radiating makes it hard to look directly at her.  Like a solar
eclipse, he watches her from the corner of his eye, enjoying just a shadow
of the woman she is.  He cannot bear to take her all in at once.
   "Yes.  Perfect." He knows she's not telling him what to hear.  She's not
going to live for him.  Her hands lace in his hair.  This time it's her
turn to be cruel.  She pulls his face away from her warmth.
   "You'll worship me," she says.  She doesn't release his hair.  "Or not
at all."
   "Yes.  Tell me why."
   "Because it's what I deserve." She releases him.  He slides up her body,
inhaling as her nipples drag across his chest.  She can feel him.  He's
outside the gate now.  She allows it.
   "Tell me why you deserve it," he says through lust-gritted teeth.
   "Because I'm a strong, beautiful, sexy goddess." And she is.  She is all
things beneath his body.  She is heaven made flesh.  She's beginning to
understand.  He pushes.  The scents of sex and perspiration fill the room.
   "Yes," he whispers into her ear.  She wraps her legs around his back. 
She claims him.  "Tell me how hard I'm going to have to work to deserve
you." She touches his face with her fingers.  They move slowly, but with
purpose.
   "You'll have to be at the top of your game," she whispers to him through
half opened eyes.  Her breast rises and falls slowly.  He can feel her
heartbeat.  She bears down on him and he groans.  "Every day."
   The tempo quickens.  The sounds of their love-slick bodies grow louder,
more immodest.  She doesn't allow him to control depth or speed.  She uses
her hips.  She takes what she wants and gives what he deserves.  Her nails
mark him.  Then her teeth do.  He responds.
   "Tell me what you expect of me.  I want to earn you." She pulls his face
closer.  Her lips press warm and wet against his hear.  She whispers.
   "I expect you to work tirelessly on your passion." He can feel her
tongue as she speaks.  Her breath is hot in his ear.  "And write me
beautiful stories." She uses her muscles on him.  She shows him what she's
learned.
   "Yes...  yes every god damned day." He moves in her.  She appreciates
him, appreciates the passion for what it is.  But she still has things that
need to be said.  She puts her hands on his hips.  She slows him.
   "But you have to believe that you're worthy of me." He tries to look
away, but she touches his cheek, and with soft but firm hands he makes sure
she has his eyes.  "I need you to love you.  Because that is sexy." He
tries to look away.  She doesn't let him.
   "For you, I will," he lies.  She stops his movements all together.
   "No, David.  For you, you will.  And if I believe it, then I'll let you
take me." She allows him to move in her again.  She watches his eyes as he
processes the idea of liking himself.  It's a start.
   "If I can love you, then I'm sure I can love myself too."
   "I won't compromise this time."
   "No, no more compromising." He presses his body against hers.  They move
together, more slowly this time.  The fire isn't there, not like before,
but it's replaced with an emotional weight that gives their coupling
importance.
   They aren't fucking.  They aren't even making love.  They are simply
living.  She finds the melody before he does, toes curling, muscles
involuntarily quaking.  She doesn't cry out.  Not this time.  This is
personal.  This is honest.
   He follows shortly after, led by words and caresses.  He doesn't move
slowly because he wants to give her comfort.  He wants to feel her.  She
touches his chest.  It's his turn to hear the music.
   They roll together.  He can't leave her, but he feels self conscious
about resting his full weight on her.  She lays on top of him.  He touches
her, but softly.  She is glowing, and he doesn't want to disturb it, but
he's afraid to stop touching her.
   "I came for you," she says, sleepy eyes half open.  He pulls the
comforter over their bodies and wraps her in his arms.
   "Yes...  you did." She knows what he means.
   ***
   If you like the story check out more of my writings at
collarsandsense.blogspot.com 
  
davidandwillow