Three weeks ago:
“I’m going to use your cock and there’s nothing you can do about it,” she tried, smiling through the threat. Her hands were planted on either side of his head, denting into the mattress, her nose inches from his.
He tried to look frightened, held himself still and stiffened up. She saw the faux fear, and bumped her groin against his. “I really mean it!”
“I like that, when I feel like you’re going to force me and I have no say about it,”
“Oh really? Kinda hard for me, given that you’ve got fifty pounds on me and most of that’s muscle, babe.”
“Just make me do it.” His grin had gone goofy-horny, contemplating a perfect moment, some time in the future. “I have faith, maybe you could tie me up…?”
“If you don’t want it. you’re not gonna be hard. And you always want it when you are hard. Kinda hard to rape the willing, you know?”
Horny. She woke up with a slick of moisture between her legs, and her skin sensitized to the touch of the blanket. He was lying next to her, uncoiled from the curl he always fell asleep in, to the sprawl he spread into during the night. He liked the morning doze best, and she liked the softness in repose that took the stress out of his face. He would sleep until the last minute and dash off to work, tea in a travel mug and a bagel held in his mouth, just about buttoning his shirt as he went. And yet, working from home, invariably she was up a full hour before he transformed into the morning panic-flurry. She liked to watch him flail.
The shower washed away the smear of arousal, but not the sensations, water beating her body like caressing fingers, towel scraping rough and sensitizing. She took her birth control pill, swallowing the little dot of sugar, and flipped the kettle’s toggle to on, checking the glow to make sure the water was boiling. Still horny, and naked in the kitchen, her hand brushed over her nipples as she contemplated dealing with the pent up feelings. The clock showed seven thirty and her wet hair dripped down her back. She made a decision and walked back to the bedroom.
She picked up his phone and saw the alarm was going to go off in another thirty minutes, took it into the other room, and thumbed it to reset it to a minute and a half from now.
He didn’t wake up as she peeled the covers down. Naked, dark hair on pale skin, male lines, nipples wide and flat brown thumb prints, a slight softness of the belly that she always found desirable. Just about purring, she straddled him without letting herself touch him, hands hovering.
“Hmmm…” She made it feather light, nuzzling, waking him slowly, teasing his cock. Giving him a full erection first thing in the morning was easy, and with careful licks, she coaxed him from half swollen to rampant.
By the time he opened his eyes, he was already inside her, nestled up in the wet channel of her cunt and feeling the muscles grip.
“Oh.” She watched the reality of the situation home in to him as his brain began to properly perceive where he was. She rode him, letting the aroused tension grow.
And then his alarm went off, the phone frantically vibrating and chirping away.
“Oh shit. Karen…”
“Ma’am!” She insisted.
“Ma’am, I’m going to be…” She could tell the conflict to stay nestled up inside her was fighting the urgency he thought he needed to spring out of bed with.
“You stay here!” She just about growled at him, emphasizing with a hard down stroke that hilted him.
“Ma’am! Please, I’m going to be late!” He bucked underneath her, winding up to a full on morning-flail. The erection, however, stayed turgid and engulfed.
“You know all you have to do is say ‘Spaghetti’ to make it stop,” she gently mentioned the safeword.
“Nnnnn…” The temptation was there, but he shut his mouth. She saw the mixture of satisfaction and terror in his eyes.
“Then the only way you’re getting to work today is after I’ve had my satisfaction. So, slut, are you going to just lie there? I guess it would be nice to have lunch at home with you, for once.”
The sex that followed was frantic, as all the energy that propelled him out the door on time every day was thrown into fucking, begging and pleading. The more he whimpered, the more turned on she got, and the meaner she got, teasing him about missing the bus, and then the train and how everyone would look at him as he came in.
She came twice before she let him finish, and sweat beaded on his forehead, he panted let himself relax.
“Shit, Ma’am… can I call work and say I’m going to be late now?”
She smirked and handed him his phone, lighting up the screen first so the time blazed in front of his face.
“Oh. Ma’am. You…” He sputtered, realizing that even with the fucking and merciless teasing, he was still ten minutes early.
“If you hurry you can get a shower in too…” She slid off him, feeling pleasantly sore. “I’ll go bring you your clothes and get your tea on.”
Yeah, con-non-con creates a challenge. Friday Femdom Fiction is all about the loving couple who consents side of kink (for the brutal stuff you want Catamite or other writing projects) and I wanted a scenario where a woman could “rape” a man but have it not actually be rape.