A Satisfying Valentine’s Night
Outfit finally selected, I let myself feel the full force of excitement about the evening ahead. Valentine’s Day fell mid-week this year and had been fairly non-eventful so far. We’d exchanged a few small gifts and cards, but our real gift to each other was quality time.
It’s not even as if we were roaming too far, just a table booked at the local gastropub and a few hours focusing on each other rather than our phones. I was excited anyway. My hard work transforming my body since New Year was finally paying off, and it had been years since I dared to wear anything as provocative as this evening’s attire. Sure, I wanted to get fit for myself first of all – but it’s incredibly rewarding knowing he still finds me attractive, too.
Naked and freshly showered, I applied my makeup then stepped through a cloud of Obsession Night. First adornment was the small pile of jewellery, then I carefully rolled on my sheer stockings, clinging black lace skirt and slipped into the black, mirror-shine, 6-inch heels. A deep plunge bra, then a fitted black short sleeved shirt over the top. I left as many buttons undone as I dared.
I needed his help with the outfit’s pièce de résistance: a steel-boned, black satin corset. Wrapping it around my waist, which had only recently reappeared, I hooked the eyes over my middle then called for him.
The corset wasn’t even fastened properly yet, but his reaction upon walking into the bedroom gave me an intoxicating rush of satisfaction. The way his eyes widened, and the growl from his throat… my feminine allure felt like the phoenix risen from the ashes. I felt sexy; powerful and dominant, and his kitten for the taking. It had been a long time, but I felt like me.
“You like it then?” I queried.
“Mmmph, just a bit,” he replied, eyes roaming head to toe appreciatively. “Perhaps we should just stay in…?”
“Can you tie me in, please? I can’t reach… Not too tight! I need to be able to eat-“
“Oh, I know you do,” he interjected lecherously.
I suddenly felt like a schoolgirl, due to his wonderful Dominant way. Blushing through giggles, I turned to place my hands on the wall as he worked. His strong fingers worked their magic for the first of many times that evening, pulling the cords through, and I felt the steel-bones tighten against my frame in that old familiar way.
The embrace of a well-made, well-laced corset is seductive and exhilarating. When laced by him, it seems to emulate the erotic hold he still has over me; the waist cinch echoing his hypnotic grip.
As if surfacing from a trance, I realised his lips were on my neck, fingers around my now distinctly narrower waist and holding me in a suggestive position facing the wall. I glanced over at the clock.
“We’ll be late! Naughty. No time for that now… maybe later…” I teased with a smile.
“We should go. How do I look?”
“Mmm… you look really good,” he replied, his tone conveying the depth of his hunger and need.
Grabbing my clutch, I quickly made my way out of the house to the waiting car before I changed my mind. He followed behind, undoubtedly with a grin over sensing my sudden indecision. Unable to bend in the middle I all but fell into the passenger seat of the car which was to chauffeur us to our Valentine’s evening out, while he -and his filthy thoughts- stowed away in the back seat.
Despite my concern we made good time, arriving minutes before our reservation. I needed to ask for his help again –his hand, to pull me out of the car- which only seemed to reignite the lust in his eyes. He always did love when I was corseted, the tight-lacing forcing me to become more reliant on him, less independence and more control over my movements.
The breathy arousal from these thoughts, which threatened to dominate my consciousness, was swept aside with a surge of nerves upon reaching the establishment. I had actually done it. I’d dressed up, in something even I had to admit was provocative and sensual, and left the house. There was barely any time to dwell on the impinging misgivings however; he stepped ahead to push the doors open, then ushered me into the crowded bar with a look that brooked no argument.
Glad I’d decided against blusher, as my self-consciousness literally glowed, I made my way to the bar with him following closely behind. I left the chat to him, and he had drinks ordered and we were making our way through to the restaurant within a few moments.
We had the coveted window table, which gave me immediate flashbacks to his penchant for turning me into a window display. I made the mistake of catching his eye while we took our seats, and the same memory mirrored in his dark eyes made me grateful for the immediately available chair.
Our meal was gorgeous: the gastropub had decided on a tapas menu for Valentine’s night, with artisan gins on offer. The fine dining accompanied by saffron gin eased my nerves, as did our comfortable conversation while we ate.
It was only once the meal was finished, the plates cleared away, that the dangerous glint returned to his eyes, and the playful smile about his lips.
“Such a pretty kitten…,” he pronounced softly, so only I could hear.
Blushing crimson, paranoid the diners at nearby tables heard despite his care, I turned my eyes downwards even while smiling with pride. That’s why I didn’t see his hand snake over the now empty table, his fingers extend…
And it was suddenly just the two of us there, in that restaurant, although we could have been anywhere. His strong fingers curled round my neck in that thrilling way, his dominant throat grip an instant high. Years of memories of shared sex intimacy raced through my mind, countless kinky scenes tumbling through together, overwhelming me with instant lust. Panic blended seamlessly with trust and formed the liquid desire which escaped between my legs.
His warm, powerful fingers around my throat held me more gently than the merciless cinch of the tight-laced corset around my waist, but I still didn’t dare to even draw breath until he gave permission. Out of fear.
Not fear of harm; fear he might let go.
It probably lasted a second or two at most. Of course, he had to let me go, and despite the blood rushing to my face, it’s unlikely anyone had even noticed the brief, intimately erotic contact. My self-consciousness was cooled only by facing towards the window to the dark, drizzly night outside, where despite my sadistic imagination no crowds of people had suddenly amassed to watch the show.
The immediate tension ebbed away to reveal a startlingly powerful arousal beneath. Suddenly I wanted nothing more than to be alone with him, with his own beautifully cruel imagination, with his perfectly erotic sadism. My nipples and clit felt as if they strained forwards to be that much closer to him, sensing his presence and power, calling to him simply with need.
My outfit felt entirely surplus to requirements now, and it wasn’t too much longer before we hurriedly paid the bill and arranged our lift home. He climbed into the back seat once the car arrived, but unlike our first journey, he pulled me in with him. On top of him, taking advantage of my inability to bend, to defend myself against his unleashed hands which undid his fastenings and pulled my skirt up. Against his mouth which ravished my neck with kisses, soft, passionate bites and growled promises which lubricated both imagination and pussy.
Stockings tore in the excitement, and the darkness of our surroundings disguised a multitude of sins. His temporarily denied cock rebelliously pushed against my slick, puffy lips, demanding entrance, demanding pleasure. On his lap, his hands back round my waist, I had no choice but to sit down firmly on him for the most comfortable uncomfortable ride home, his full, pulsing length filling my ravenous pussy, sating its hunger as the meal had sated another.
As we turned the final corner to our destination, he arrived at his own – streaming thick jets inside me with strangled grunts, echoed by my own suppressed moans and cries.