Millie
I decide to take a taxi home from the restaurant after I begin to repeatedly lose the plot of my sentences. After a while, I’m hardly making any sense, and I fear that I’ll get so drunk that I’ll start divulging my true secrets to the world around me. I’ve only gotten that drunk one time, and there are still people who won’t forgive me for it.
The taxi driver is exactly who I expected him to be, just another middleaged man who drives when he’s bored. He puts off an uncomfortable energy, like he’s looking for the first girl he can convince to take home.
I slump into the back seat, barely able to hold my head up as we drive toward my apartment. I live in the “bad” side of town, and whenever I’m given a ride by any man to my home, they ask why a “girl like me” would live in such a pit of degenerates.
It’s because my rent eats up all my profit, asshole.
Of course, I humor the driver the best I can in my annihilated state, tapping my fingers nervously as we finally approach the front door to my building. I thank him curtly and stumble out of the car, staggering toward the front door and nearly falling through when I unlock it.
When I enter my apartment, I walk right into my bedroom, not even bothering to drop off my jacket and keys to their designated locations in my kitchen. I let them fall at the foot of my bed, crawling into my blankets with my dress still on.
I lie on my back, feeling the unfamiliar sensation of rigid fabric against my skin while I’m otherwise melting into my bed. I stare at the ceiling, my eyes fluttering shut every few seconds before I begin to drift into a daydream involving Viktor spanking me again.
Spanking wasn’t something I was ever really into before, but Viktor awakened something in me. Not only that, but the wine has accelerated my arousal, pooling warmth between my legs at no provocation at all. It’s a delicious feeling, being able to just exist in a vermilion haze of lust while I drift in and out of a drunken fog.
In my fantasy, I’m here in my apartment, but Viktor is just around the corner near my open bedroom door. My dress is pulled up, revealing my naked pussy as I play with my clit desperately. He catches me, scolding me for being such a dirty girl, for masturbating in plain view where he can see me.
The warmth in my panties builds and builds until I can feel the familiar slick wet spot forming on the fabric that clings to my vulva. I play with my panties a little bit, teasing myself by stroking my skin just beneath the lacy pink waistband. I imagine Viktor being the one to do all of this, taking me and punishing me in the most arousing way possible.
I think about how embarrassed I would feel if he caught me like that, how he would approach me and spread my legs back open after I tried to hide myself from him. I want him to spank my pussy, to slap the smooth, juicy flesh as a reminder of who it belongs to. I can just feel the sting in my clit, spreading throughout my pussy lips and down my legs.
My hand wanders down into my panties, and I slide them off completely, tossing them into the corner of my bedroom. A steady pulse throbs in my clit, and I slip my fingers over it, rubbing slowly in a circular motion.
I want his mouth on me. I want to feel the warmth of his tongue against my pussy until I cum all over his face. I could never, ever admit this to him; he would take it as too much of an ego boost. But here, in my own fantasies, I can have whatever I want.
I imagine the contrast of his tongue after the sting of the spankings, and I’m tempted to drunkenly find him online and tell him exactly what I’m thinking about. I know better, though, just barely.
The slick flesh feels hot against my hand as I rub myself faster, imagining Viktor alternating between spanking me and licking my pussy until I’m ready to make myself cum.
I’m tempted to let this all be over, to get myself off and go to sleep like a responsible person, but I’m drowning in this daydream. I’m so drunk that I can almost imagine what he would feel like, remembering the way his cock slid inside of me as my arousal got all over his pants. The idea of my wetness on his clothes is a turn-on in and of itself.
I slow myself down, remembering how I had to try and keep myself from orgasming too quickly when Viktor and I had sex. I couldn’t allow him to have all the power, but he took all of it so easily. I was helpless. I couldn’t stop myself, and I doubt I could if he had chosen to continue to play with my body.
After a few minutes, I have to take my hand away from my clit, or I’ll cum in seconds. My face is hot and pink as I struggle to fight back against every instinct that I have to make myself cum, to make Viktor come here and take me himself.
I’m panting, my chest rising and falling as if I’ve run a marathon as I wait for the feeling to leave me, for the ability to keep going and going until I can’t hold back anymore. I know that nothing I do on my own will compare to what Viktor could do to me with half the effort, but this is all I have for now. I have to retain some of my dignity.
The urge overcomes me, and I furiously rub my clit to completion, feeling my muscles contract just before I’m pushed over the edge, and I’m forced into a beautiful explosion of colors for a moment or two.
I’ve released myself from this need.
For now.