Weekend Assault: A Father's Day Pleasure

The rain hammered against the windows of our bedroom, a relentless percussion that mirrored the frantic beat of my own heart. It was Father’s Day, a day usually reserved for pancakes and awkward family photos, but this year, it was about to become something far more primal. Kate had suggested a nice steak, a polite and utterly baffling request. She clearly hadn’t grasped the true meaning of the weekend I’d been anticipating. I needed this, desperately. The desire had been building for weeks, a slow, simmering heat that threatened to boil over.

I’d spent the previous weeks meticulously planning, stocking up on pleasure toys and researching the perfect restraints. The hogtie cuff restraint, purchased from a discreet online vendor, felt heavy and substantial in my hand, a symbol of the control I craved. It wasn’t about dominance, not entirely. It was about the exquisite power of possessing something so intimately, so completely, as another person’s mouth. The thought alone sent shivers down my spine.

Before the little one, Lily, woke, I moved with deliberate grace, my hands tracing the curves of Kate’s body as she slept. A slow, sensual exploration, building anticipation, both for us. After a few minutes of tender caresses and lingering kisses, I declared, “It’s time for the game, my love.” Her eyes flickered open, a hint of apprehension mingling with a knowing glint. She’d anticipated this, of course, but she’d agreed to play, to surrender herself entirely to my desires.

Dragging her gently from the bed, I positioned her kneeling before the dresser, the cool wood a stark contrast to her warm skin. The hogtie restraint, a dark, leather-wrapped object, felt alien in my hand, yet strangely comforting. As I secured her ankles and wrists, her grip tightened on my arm, a silent plea for restraint. "This is my morning," I stated, my voice low and controlled, channeling the Dom/sub dynamic we both relished. “The only thing I am focusing on is your mouth, and its purpose right now is to pleasure my cock.” A small nod acknowledged her acceptance, a willing surrender to my command.

The silicone lubricant, chosen for its slickness and safety, glistened on my hand as I reached for the bottle atop the dresser. It was an odd choice, I had to admit, but I’d done my research. The brand was known for its quality and lack of harmful chemicals. I applied a generous amount to my cock, savoring the scent as it clung to my skin. Then, I proceeded to feed her.

The initial sucking was routine, a gentle prelude to the main event. But as I increased the pressure, aiming for deeper penetration, a sharp intake of breath betrayed her discomfort. I presented her with the silicone lubethat I had carefully prepared. “This will stay slick even if you slobber and help me slide the head all the way down your throat,” I instructed, my voice firm. “I want to be sure you can breathe, and you need to tell me by shaking your head if it gets to be too much. Okay, love?” Her hesitant nod confirmed her willingness to endure, even if it meant pushing her limits.

With my cock submerged, I began to thrust, pushing through her gag reflex with calculated force. The sensation was intense, primal, a rush of pleasure and pain intertwined. It felt like my urethra hit a wall, but I persevered, leveraging her muscles to allow me deeper penetration. Short, powerful thrusts followed by brief withdrawals, each movement designed to maximize sensation. She struggled to maintain her composure, her body tensing as I pushed further, but I maintained control, determined to reach the depths of her pleasure. The rhythmic pumping intensified, each thrust a testament to my dominance.

A few moments later, I pulled away, seeking to maintain momentum. Her back began to ache, a sign that she was nearing her breaking point. I increased the tempo, pushing harder, aiming to bring her closer to the edge of ecstasy. She struggled against the restraints, her muscles straining against the leather, but my grip remained firm. Her desperate pleas for release were lost in the escalating intensity of our encounter.

As she gasped for breath, her lips pressed against my body, releasing with a shuddering sigh. Her trust, her vulnerability, fueled my desire even further. This wasn’t just about satisfying my lust; it was about owning her completely, her thoughts, her feelings, her very essence.

The next few minutes were a blur of intense pleasure and mounting agony. My cock, now slick with her own saliva and semen, continued its relentless assault on her throat. I felt her muscles tense and relax, her body writhing in response to my touch. The air grew thick with anticipation, the scent of arousal filling the room.

Finally, her back couldn't take it anymore. She began to cry out, her voice strained and desperate. Recognizing her distress, I eased off, allowing her to recover. My focus shifted to stroking my cock, drawing closer to the point of climax. The desire intensified, a burning sensation spreading through my body.

When I was close to release, I resumed my assault, determined to push her over the edge. As I neared the peak of my pleasure, she began to milk out any remaining goodness, her sucking growing frantic in an attempt to extract every last drop of my essence. It was a desperate plea, a silent request for mercy, but I remained resolute in my pursuit of dominance.

The final moments were a symphony of sensations – pain, pleasure, submission, and control. I poured my entire being into the experience, reveling in the power I held over her. Once I had reached my climax, I withdrew, allowing her to catch her breath.

The hogtie restraint, once a symbol of control, now felt like a burden, a reminder of the boundaries we had crossed. We continued to explore each other, our bodies aching and exhausted, but our spirits elevated by the intensity of the experience. The rain outside had subsided, and a sliver of moonlight peeked through the clouds, illuminating our intertwined forms.

As I rose from my position, I knew that this was just the beginning. The desire for domination, for control, would continue to burn within me, demanding to be fulfilled. Perhaps next time, I would revisit the hogtie, pushing her further into submission, deeper into her pleasure. After all, there was always room for improvement, for pushing the boundaries of our shared fantasies. The thought of her trusting me, submitting to my every whim, was a powerful motivator, a constant reminder of the exquisite power of possessing her mouth.

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