Jane rides the subway
- 3 years ago
- 17
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English Girl Rides The Subway free porn video
Holding hands, they left the Center for Performing Arts, and walked towards the subway station. It was snowing lightly, the night crisp and sharp, and Hayley felt giddy, like she wanted to skip, and couldn’t stop smiling. They had just seen the Nutcracker, always a dream of hers, and it was a Saturday night in New York during Christmas!
At the stoplight, still holding hands, she pulled him close and kissed him. That earned her one of his good smiles.
She asked, “Did you like it?”
He shrugged.
She knew ballet wasn’t his ‘thing’, but that he’d taken her because it'd always been her dream to see the New York City Ballet.
He said, “I liked watching you watch it. How mesmerized you were. And some of the dancing was pretty good. If they just did that the whole time, I might’ve liked it.” He kissed her, ignoring the swirl of people around them, and the crosswalk signal telling them to cross. “I like how happy it’s made you.”
She giggled, then laughed at her own giggle.
She shouldn’t have been impressed with NYC, she was from London after all, and any true Londoner thought their great city was far better than anyone else’s. He—the man she used to call Mr. Banks, that she now occasionally called Henry and frequently called her Sir—had always said NYC was the best city in the world, that the energy, the restaurants, the art, made it like no other. She did like the energy, and there were so many places she recognized from the movies, it made her feel like she was in a movie, albeit a damn kinky one. She was enjoying her movie.
That thought made her think of the kink part. It had been four months since he’d spanked her in her office (it turned out he’d only owed £18,000, though he still hadn’t been all that happy about it. She’d teased him that he shouldn’t have spanked her the first time, until the actual payment was known. That had gotten her immediately spanked). Four months of spankings, really good sex, and her slowly giving more and more of herself to him. He’d opened doors that were never closing, shown her things she’d liked that she’d never imagined. And God, the edging. He only let her come one day a week, maybe two days if she’d been very very good.
But in between, he made her edge seemingly all the time. One day it had been twelve times, and nearly drove her mad. After the twelfth time, she thought she might come just from pulling up her panties. Yet the worst days were the days she wasn’t allowed to touch her clit or pussy at all. Which almost always followed a day of ten or twelve, or if she did something that displeased him. Worse, he was always sending her wicked messages, hinting at the plans he had for the next time they were together. He’d been visiting London every two or three weeks, but this was the first time she’d come to the States.
Finally, they started across the street, and she was reminded of the medium plug in her bottom, and how sore and bruised it was. He never spanked her to punish her, he knew she liked her ass sore and red, and never wanted her to behave poorly because she needed a spanking. Instead, if he was disappointed, he would simply add another day or two until he’d let her come, and more edges. However, him saying he was disappointed was by far the worst thing ever for her, her true punishment. She tried very hard to always please him, to earn her ‘Good girls’, so fortunately, she'd only heard those words twice. Normally he spanked her with his hand, or her ‘new’ hairbrush, which she used every morning to brush her hair. Large and wooden and wicked, it left very nice, purple bruises on her owned bum.
He’d spanked her last night, and twice already today, edging her several times around each spanking. How many times had he asked her if she could take a dozen more with the hairbrush? She always answered the same, by arching up, asking for the extras, wanting to please him, even when she was on the verge of tears. When he was finished, he always sent her nude to look at her bum in the mirror.
All these thoughts reignited the mess that was her pussy, and the desperate need that plagued her clit. It had been nine days since she’d last come, and she couldn’t even count how many times she’d been ordered to edge. He wanted the weekend to be ‘special’, which apparently meant driving her insane. The day before her flight, he’d even made her spank her owned clit with a wooden ruler. God, had she needed to come after that, staring at her phone, waiting for the next text to tell her how many more times to swat it. She had gotten so, so close, from that, had so wanted to be ordered to hump the ruler.
Thinking of that, she had to stop him again, kiss him, to hide how much she’d worked herself up, to allow herself a chance to catch her breath.
They walked down the stairs—he avoided escalators when he could, saying it was a small way to stay in shape. She suspected it was because stairs fully reminded her of the plug and her sore ass with every bloody-damn step. At the bottom, waiting for the D-Line, he kissed her again, his hand sliding inside her coat, squeezing her sore bottom. She liked those kisses.
He said, “You look amazing.”
She smiled, her crazy-happy smile. At first, the looks they got from people had bothered her, looks because of the age difference, or maybe because their skin colors didn’t match, maybe both. But now she didn’t care, not one bit, at least that’s what she told herself. So the few looks they did get didn’t dent her smile.
He asked, “Do you like the shoes?”
She did, and nodded. They were Louboutin’s, black with the red sole, and much higher than she was used to. She’d practiced walking in them in their hotel room. Naked, of course. She liked parading for him, her red ass on display, his grin watching her, the bulge growing in his trousers. She thought he’d only bought them for her because of the red soles, and before they’d left for dinner, he’d made sure her ass and her shoes matched. That had taken awhile.
He’d also bought her the new, little black dress that she was wearing (and liked more than the shoes, she loved the dress), and the red and black g-string underneath. He’d bought her a dozen or more panties, the expensive ones, wanting what was next to her pussy and her clit to always be his, telling her she'd have to get rid of her other ones. This was the first time he’d ‘spoiled’ her, and it made her nervous, but also made her feel special and taken care of. She wouldn’t want it all the time, but today she’d enjoyed it.
The subway train came to a rattling stop. Without taking his hand out of the inside of her coat or off of her sore bum, they followed a couple and an older woman into the empty train car (okay, older than her, not older than him). He led her to the middle of the car, pushed her against the metal pole there. The train chugged forward, pressing him into her, against the pole. His thigh pressed against her, and she spread her legs, so it was in a really good spot.
Another kiss. Then he whispered, “You may now, if you still want to. If you need to.”
Confused, she looked up at him.
He said, “You did want to come sometime this weekend, didn’t you? Well, now’s your chance. Unless you want to wait another week or two. I know how much you like it when I make you wait.” He said that all far louder than she liked, and she felt herself blushing.
“Can’t…can’t we do that when we get back to the hotel?”
“Why wait? I thought you needed to come? You said you were desperate.”
She looked around the train, but in true New York style, neither the couple nor the woman was paying any attention to them, at least as far as she could tell. She swallowed. His thigh did feel very good.
He added, “Plus, when we get back to the room, we’ll need to get to bed, we’ve got a busy day tomorrow, especially you and that bottom of yours.” His finger found the end of the plug, moved it around in her ass. Christ. “There’s probably only time for a blowjob, maybe a edge or two, before we go to sleep. Perhaps a warm-up of your owned bottom.”
She closed her eyes and ground against his thigh. Could she actually come like this?
“You better hurry, you only have four or five stops until ours.”
With that, they did hit the next stop. It pulled his thigh away from her, then pressed it harder into her. She ground again.
He said, “If not tonight, maybe in another ten days? That won’t be too hard, will it? To wait that long?”
It was suddenly a mad war within her. The thought of waiting—why did that turn her on so much, to be owned so completely in that way? And to be teased so wickedly? That thought warred with her fear of someone seeing, someone watching. But God, she really needed to come, and to please him. “Please…”
“Please what? Make you wait ten more days? Edge you twenty times tomorrow? Take your ass when we get back to the room?”
She couldn’t speak, she just buried her head against his chest and ground against his very strong thigh. The train car banged forward, pushing her into him, which felt so good. The little bumps, the clacks as the train moved around, they all passed right through her clit.
His lips brushing against her ear, he asked, “Tell me what wicked thoughts are going on in that beautiful brain of yours. I can see it in your eyes, something wicked. Tell me. What do you want me to do to you when we get back to the room?”
“Oh God, no, please..”
“Tell me.”
There was no refusing him. She cupped her hand over his ear, whispered so he could barely hear her. “On the balcony, you make me grab the railing and bend over. You spank me with your belt. Then you take my ass.” The words came out of her mouth in a mad rush, piled one on top of the other, like she couldn’t stop it.
“Oh, you are such a naughty little slut.”
She was so fucking turned on, going mad. They rumbled into another station.
“You better hurry. Our stop is coming up.”
The couple got off, and thankfully no one got on. It was only them and the middle-aged woman, who seemed to only be interested in the book she was reading.
Hayley was so close, but his thigh wasn’t getting her any closer, just teasing the hell out of her, making her want more, making her think about unzipping him (she could feel how hard he was, how big he was) and forcing his cock inside her.
“Please, I can’t. Not like this.”
She thought he was going to be cruel, say it was too bad, that maybe in ten days she’d have another chance. A small part of her craved that, wanted it.
Instead, he looked around, then whispered, “Slide one arm out of your coat.”
With his help, she did. He covered that arm with the coat, holding the coat in place, and buttoned one button, so her arm was free inside her coat.
“Pull up your dress. Rub that owned pussy. Please me. Or I’ll tie you to the balcony railing and leave you there, naked. Maybe the vibrating plug in your ass, to keep you warm.”
Thank God the coat was longer than her new dress. She lifted the front of the black dress, hoping it wouldn’t get wrinkled, pushed the tiny panties out of the way, then pressed her fingers against her hungry pussy. It felt like the first sip of water after crossing the desert, like nothing could ever feel better, like nothing ever had. He pressed up against her again, trapping her hand there, grinding against her, her fingers rubbing her clit.
She was so close, ever so close. In a hoarse whisper, she asked. “Please, sir, may I?”
“Who owns you?”
“You do, Sir.”
“What are you?”
“A slut, Sir. I’m your slut, Sir. Your naughty, horny, dirty slut.”
“Good girl. Come for me. Come hard.”
Nine days of edging, including the one earlier in the day in the dressing room trying on her dress, all of the ones on his fingers after spankings, and the three on the flight the day before, had built up a need like nothing else she’d ever felt. Part of her worried that he was about to stop her, to edge her yet again, that she’d hear that wicked chuckle.
Finally, the damn broke. She bit down on his coat, her body shaking, her mind not believing she was finally coming, that the moment had finally arrived, that she was finally free. He held her there, pressed against the pole. It went on and on, wave after wave, his thigh moving her fingers against her clit as she shuddered.
It was too much.
“Please.”
“You want to stop so soon? You know one is never enough. Please me.”
She looked past his shoulder, at the woman no longer reading her book. It didn’t matter, his thigh was insisting, he was insisting. She closed her eyes as another shook through her, not as intense as the first, but still wonderful. Then her clit was way, way too sensitive, and she managed to pull her fingers free. His thigh was there, the roughness of his wool trousers against her pussy. It was so, so sensitive, but she still liked it.
“You know what to do when you make a mess.”
She did. She lifted her fingers through the opening in her coat, licked them clean as she looked up at him. She was a very wet slut.
“Good girl.” He was smiling like the proverbial cat. She was suddenly embarrassed, suddenly ashamed. She tried to push him away, tried to fix her dress, wondered how much of a mess she looked.
He stopped her, holding her tight. “I’ve got you. You’re protected. You’re mine. Relax.” He kissed her. She didn’t want him to, but then couldn’t resist and let his tongue touch hers.
They rumbled into another stop. He said, “We should get off here.”
She wanted to make a pun, but instead asked, “Is it our stop?”
“No, ours was three stops back. You’re very spoiled.”
Part of her wanted to be a smart ass, wanted to say, It’s been nine days since I’ve come, I’ve got a plug deep in my ass and most of my ass is red and purple, I can’t be that spoiled. Instead, she said, “Yes I am, thank you, Sir.”
Blushing, she avoided looking at the woman as they exited the train, but Hayley could tell she was smiling.
###
He took her back to the hotel. Had her take off her panties in the elevator. Led her into the room and slowly and carefully undressed her at the foot of the bed. He did not take the plug out, but did take her shoes off, then her dress, his fingers lovely against her skin. He carefully hung the dress in the closet. He gently laid her back on the bed, then stood and slowly took off his clothes as he stared hungrily at her. She spread her legs, to show her pussy to him, to show him what he owned. One of his favorite things was to make her play with herself as he watched, edging her over and over, until she was begging. She wondered if he was about to do that, but instead, he climbed on top of her, his eyes never leaving hers. She spread her legs very very wide, wanting him. Her hand guided his hard, hard cock into the opening of her pussy—God, she loved the feel of it, being taken, being filled, especially after she’d come—and he pushed all the way in, until he was tight against her.
Still looking into her eyes, he asked, “Did you come hard on the train?”
She nodded. “I nearly passed out. God, it was intense. I was so scared we’d get caught.” The thought of it was turning her on, again. But she wanted him to fuck her for his pleasure, to use her. She whispered in his ear, “Fuck me. Come in me. Fill me up. Fuck your wet slut hard.” She lightly bit his ear, held it in her mouth.
He did, he fucked her hard, not worried about her coming, not because she already had, but because she was owned, a toy for his pleasure. He pulled her knees up, forcing her wider, forcing his cock deeper. She could smell her own wetness, his sweat, the hotel shampoo on her hair. The fucking was so loud—there was no doubt the next room knew what was happening, maybe the whole floor. Still he stared into her eyes, his hand holding her tight by the hair. He was getting close. She loved watching him come. She wrapped her legs around his waist. He groaned. Then he came in her, and that, coupled with the thought of being used for his pleasure, sent her over the edge. Too late, she realized she didn’t have permission, didn’t even ask. It made her come harder, knowing she was in trouble, wondering how long it would be before she was allowed to come again. Surprisingly, he didn’t say anything about it, just collapsed next to her on the bed, his chest heaving. Maybe, in that moment, they were simply lovers, not her Sir and his slut.
Draping herself over him, one leg across his stomach, she kissed his lips. Her fingertips played with the hair on his head, then trailed down across his lips, his chin, to the hair on his chest, playing with that. She enjoyed that, wanting the moment to last forever, this night to last forever. She laid there humming lightly, trying not to think thoughts, trying to stop time.
Eventually, she realized he was asleep, the lights all still on, and that she’d been asleep, too. She wanted to please him. Because she always wanted to please him, because she cleaned up her messes, she kissed her way down from his lips, small kisses every inch of the way, to his lovely, half-hard cock and licked it clean. Her lips made sure the head of his cock was a very clean. She sucked on it to make sure, tasting him and her. That did wake him up, his cock too.
He told her to rub herself. More edging, she thought but didn’t complain. She licked his balls clean, even the insides of his thighs, licked up and down his cock a hundred times. By the time she’d edged twice—yes, the desperation was already starting to build—his cock was rock hard again.
She wanted him to come in her mouth, but he gently pushed her away, gave her a kiss. He stood up, put his trousers and shirt back on, still staring at her. He pointed to the thick, black leather collar on the nightstand. She crawled to it, her heart thundering, and brought it to him in her mouth. He took it, didn’t say a word. She pulled her hair out of the way, offered her neck to him, head down and staring at his feet. He buckled it around her neck, locked the tiny padlock with the faintest of clicks. That little click did crazy things to her. He pointed to his belt, the black leather one, thick and supple. She retrieved it, still crawling and carrying it back once again in her mouth, scared of what was coming next, but so wanting it. He walked to the big sliding door, pulled the curtains back and opened it. He stepped outside. She followed him, still on her hands and knees, the cold hardening her nipples.
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