SusanStrict
Posts: 27
Joined: 3/26/2006
From: On Top
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“Why is it,” she said, “That some men like women with big asses sitting on them?”
“Not just women with big asses,” he said with a smile.
“Yes, all right. But why do men like that at all?”
He tried to explain. “Lots of reasons, I suppose. Primarily it’s a combination of being close to the best parts of a woman…” she scowled at him. He grinned and continued, “…and having her pressed against him.”
“It still doesn’t make sense,” she said. “He could quite as easily press against her when she was lying on her back.”
“He could,” he agreed, “And that’s nice too, but not the same. So there’s a little more to it.” He thought for a moment. “Partly, I think, it’s the feeling of being dominated by a woman which is a thrill for most men.”
She raised her eyebrows. “Most?” she questioned.
“I think so,” he said. “The role reversal in the bedroom is a definite turn-on.”
“It’s a turn-on for you?”
“It would be if it ever happened,” he laughed.
“OK,” she said, “I understand what you’re saying even if I can’t really understand why it’s exciting. What else? Anything?”
“Well, there’s the lack of air underneath her.”
“How is that a turn-on?” She looked really puzzled.
“I’m not sure. But it is. Maybe….” he felt himself blushing a little, “I don’t know if you’ve ever noticed, but men hold their breath for a few seconds before they [I]do it[/I]?”
She blushed now. “I wouldn’t know,” she said, deliberately vaguely.
“Well they do. And I reckon it’s probably all the same thing. But I’m no expert.”
“So….,” she said slowly, “It would be if it ever happened?”
“Eh?”
“It would be if it ever happened,” she repeated. “A turn-on for you to be dominated and sat on?”
He felt himself turning redder and redder.
“Sure,” he said uncertainly.
“Right,” she said positively, “You lie on the floor and I’ll sit on you. I’ll bet you don’t enjoy it half as much as you think you will.”
“I think I would,” he replied, automatically staring towards the tops of her legs, but not moving.
“So I have to do the domination bit to get you to move?” she raised her hand as if to slap him.
“OK, OK. I didn’t think you were serious. If you really want to then I’m certainly not going to object!”
He stood up. “Right there,” she said, pointing at the middle of the carpet. “On your back. Come on, don’t keep me waiting or it will be the worse for you!”
He lay down. “Arms by your sides,” she instructed as she knelt down on the thick carpet.
Kneeling over him, she sat down at the top of his chest with her legs either side of his head. He looked up at her. “Ready?” she asked.
“I guess so.”
She slid forward so that she pressed against his mouth and nose.
“Um,” she commented to herself, “I can see why women like doing it to men. It [I]does[/I] feel nice to have a man’s face pressed against my…..”
She broke off and sat back on his chest. She slapped his face lightly but with enough force to sting.
“Ow! What on earth was that for?”
“I’ll bet you could feel everything,” she said crossly, “How dare you feel me there, AND look as though you’re enjoying it.”
He was about to complain that it was hardly his fault and it was she who wanted to try this, when it occurred to him this was all part of it – part of the domination and facesitting. She really wanted to try it “properly”!
He tried to play the part. “I’m sorry, Mistress,” he said.
“I should think so too. And now you need to be properly punished.”
She did not wait for a reply. She raised herself, moved forward, and came down onto his face just a little harder than she meant to, covering his mouth and nose completely. She could just see his eyes between her legs. She squeezed her thighs together so that she nearly covered him. She sat completely still, concentrating on the sensation of him under her and waiting for him to try and move as she knew he would eventually.
It did not take very long. He lay still for a few seconds partly in mild shock but partly at the very pleasurable feeling of having a young, beautiful woman covering him like this. However, finding himself completely airless and somewhat squashed, he soon need to move to breathe and to relieve the pressure on parts of his face that were already starting to hurt.
He tapped her leg with his hand, indication that he wanted her to get off him. She wriggled a little as if trying to get comfortable, but did not move from him.
He tapped her more urgently, and tried to shout at her that he needed air and that she was hurting him. No sound came out, her tight trousers over her legs and ass made an effective gag.
He pushed at her. He was much stronger than her even in this position, and he was easily able to push her off him. He panted at the fresh air and rubbed his face.
“See?” she said, “It’s a waste of time. You didn’t enjoy that at all, and it only lasted about thirty seconds which certainly wasn’t long enough for me to enjoy anything.”
“I’d have suffocated if you’d stayed on me like that any longer,” he complained.
“Don’t be daft. Of course you wouldn’t. You were just a bit uncomfortable, and if you can’t even take that then I don’t see how it can ever be…” she broke off suddenly.
“You DID enjoy it,” she said accusingly.
“What?”
“You DID enjoy it. It DID excite you.”
“What are you talking about?”
She pointed at the front of his trousers. Hastily he turned away from her and tried to adjust himself, but the bulge was still obvious.
“Sorry,” he apologised, “You are a very exciting girl, you know.”
“Obviously I am when I sit on you and you can’t breathe for a few seconds” she said sarcastically. “AND,” she went on, “You’ve made my trousers all wet by dribbling on them. Can’t you keep your mouth shut even down there?”
“You sure that’s not from you?” He regretted saying it the moment the words were out of his mouth. A second later she slapped him, hard this time, right across the face.
“Don’t flatter yourself,” she sneered, “You’re not THAT exciting.”
They stared at each other in silence for a few minutes.
“And next?” she asked.
“Next what? Probably time for me to go home.”
She shook her head.
“What then? You want to sit on me again?” He tried to smile, to make a joke of it. He really did want her to sit on him again, to be under her and to feel her on top of him. He realised he was staring down at her thighs again and he made an effort to look away, but not before she noticed.
“We ought to do it properly if we really want to see what it’s like. Anyway, you DO want me to sit on you again. You can’t stop thinking about it, I can see that.” She was looking at the front of his trousers where he knew only too well the bulge had grown.
“What do you mean ‘properly’?” It was the word he had thought earlier but not said. ‘She wants to try it properly’.
“I mean doing it without you pushing me off half way through.”
“You were suffocating me.”
“I told you I wasn’t. You were just being a wimp.”
“I’ll let you do it again if you want.”
“Oh very generous, I don’t think,” she said sarcastically, “You’ll LET me do it if I want? So kind of you…..”
“OK I’ll rephrase that. I’d like you to do it.” Now he had said it, but then he spoilt it, “Just so we can see what it’s like, of course.”
“Just so w can see what it’s like,” she mimicked him. “We won’t see what anything’s like if you push me off before we’ve even started.”
“Can’t help that,” he said, “If I start suffocating, I’ve got to push you off.”
“Not if I tie you up.”
Not if I tie you up. The words seemed to echo round the room.
Once again they stood in silence.
“Don’t you trust me?” she asked.
“Of course I trust you. Just….you might accidentally hurt me without meaning to.”
“Either you trust me or you don’t.” She stood in front of him with her hands on her hips. “Which is it?”
“I do trust you.”
“Lie down then.”
Still he hesitated.
“Or go home.”
He lay down on the carpet. She rummaged I a drawer and produced some short lengths of cord, and without wasting time she wound the first round his ankles, knotting it tightly. Next she tied his wrists together, and with a third length of cord joined his wrists to his ankles so that he could not raise his arms easily.
“Comfortable/” she asked.
“Not very,” he replied.
“I’m going to sit on you anyway,” she said confidently, “And you’ll enjoy every minute of it.”
Suddenly he was not so sure he really wanted this, and he told her so.
“I don’t believe you,” she said, “Your body tells me differently.” She bent down, and just for an instant she put her hand on the bulge in his trousers.
She stood over him. “Your trousers are still wet,” he reminded her.
“I expect you’d make them wetter,” she said crossly, feeling the wet patch between her legs. “Anyway, I’ll take them off.”
She did just that, much to his surprise. Underneath she wore silvery knickers, smooth and silky on the front and disappearing between her cheeks at the back in a thin strip of material.
She looked down at him. “I could do anything I wanted with you right now, couldn’t I? Anything at all, and there’s nothing you could do to stop me.”
She stood for a minute looking down at him waiting for an answer, but he said nothing, mesmerised by the sight of her over him in just her flimsy knickers and top. “I can see,” she said, “Why some women like to be dominant like this.”
She lowered herself towards him and knelt with one knee either side of his head. She moved her knees back a little and at the same time leaned forward, pressing the front of her silky knickers lightly onto him. Ever so slowly she moved herself forward, sliding with the lightest pressure all the way up his face. She raised herself and moved back, then leaning further forward she lowered herself right onto him, covering his face with the front of her knickers and pressing down onto him. She held her position, while she counted to thirty to herself, then sat up and back onto his chest.
“Nice?” she asked.
As he nodded, she slapped his face. “You’re here to be dominated, not to enjoy it,” she said savagely. “Eat this.”
Keeping herself more upright, she pressed hard down onto his mouth. He felt her flesh under her knickers, and bone under that as she pressed harder, adjusting her position so that she could feel the contours of his mouth and chin just where she wanted them. As she found the position she wanted and started a rocking motion, she also was pressing over his nose and although she had not prevented his breathing completely he found it very difficult to get enough air.
She pressed harder and harder as she moved faster, now moving backwards and forwards as well as rocking herself. If his hands had been free he would have pushed her off, but tied like he was he could do nothing.
Finally she gasped, shuddered, and gripped the sides of his head so tightly with her legs that he felt for a few seconds she would crush him. Then she relaxed, and slowly moved herself back to sit on his chest. Beads of sweat ran down her face, and down her legs.
She stood up shakily, standing with one leg either side of him.
“Going to untie me now?” he asked. She shook her head.
“I haven’t finished with you yet,” she said faintly.
He stared up at her. “Well, your knickers are wet now too.”
She made no reply, and with one shaky hand she slid her knickers down and kicked them off her legs. She knelt down again straight onto his face as he gasped in surprise. She wriggled into the position she wanted, rising a little, bringing both hands down under her legs and easing herself right over and onto his nose. She sat down heavily, pressing and squeezing.
Now he could not breathe at all. His mouth and nose were trapped in complete airlessness under her, and now she sat completely motionless. He looked up at her, his eyes pleading with her to let him go. She tossed her head without comment and looked straight ahead.
It felt to him as though he was under there for hours, unable to breathe and wondering whether in fact he would survive. In reality it could not have been much more than a minute, but he felt his body start to go limp from lack of air, dizziness and blurry vision hitting him when eventually she looked down at him.
“Real facesitting,” she commented softly, “Is a woman’s pleasure, not a man’s. I know that now. So another few seconds, I think.” She looked away from him, but raised herself almost immediately.
He felt weak, and even if he had not been tied he could not have moved at that moment. She turned round, kneeling to face his feet and slowly sat down onto his face again. His nose went between her buttocks, but he was thankful he could still breathe in this position.
She pressed down, putting her full weight onto him in that position. He felt as though he was sinking into the flesh of her buttocks, and felt the compression on his face as she flexed her muscles.
But she was not happy with this position. She raised herself again and pulled her buttocks with her hands as wide as she could until it felt uncomfortable, almost painful. Then she lowered herself onto him, keeping her hands on her buttocks until she felt his face deep between them. Then she let go.
It felt to him as though her buttocks slapped together on either side of his head although she was not a very large girl and he knew that he was only partially covered by them. The fleshiness seemed to descend on him and attack him from all sides, pulling him into her and making him part of her.
Again airlessness returned, and again she seemed quite content o sit completely still while he suffered.
Ten times she sat one way or the other, confining him in the increasingly damp and consistently airless prison of her flesh. Ten times he came close to losing consciousness, and ten times she moved off him only just before darkness descended on him.
Eventually it seemed she had had enough. She stood up, and went to sit on the sofa, trembling slightly. He lay, tied, still in the middle of the floor.
“THAT,” she said slowly, “Was facesitting.”
He turned his head to look at her, feeling bruised and incredibly weak. “Untie me please.”
“You enjoyed it?”
He chose his words carefully. “It was a unique experience. Please untie me.”
“You did enjoy it. You were excited, and I think you still are.” She left the sofa and sat on the floor next to him.
“You are still excited,” she announced, and put her hand a little over the bulge in his trousers without actually touching him.
Despite his weakness and pain he reacted immediately and the bulge grew, touching her hand. She withdrew it immediately.
“After all that,” she said, “You still want more.”
“No, no, “he assured her, “I just want to be untied.”
Her hands were on his belt, undoing it. She slid it from its loops, pulling it from under him. “I could whip you with this,” she suggested.
“Please untie me. Please. I’ve had enough of all this.”
She was undoing the cord at his ankles. She had the end of a cord in her hands, but his ankles were still tied and he realised she had just undone the cord linking his wrists and ankles. She pulled it upwards, wrenching his arms up and then over his head. He tied the end to the leg of a table.
He found his voice. “Just let me go. I’ve had enough and I want to go. LET ME GO.”
“Tut, tut,” she said, “So noisy. We’ll have to do something about that.”
She looked around the floor and found the damp knickers she had kicked off as she stood over him. She forced them into his mouth, effectively gagging him.
“Better,” she said, satisfied. “So now we’ll have a little look at that bulge.”
She undid his trousers, pulling them and his pants right down to his ankles. His hardness sprung upright. She stared at it.
“Not worth a fuck,” she said deliberately, knowing he had never heard her use language like that before, and knowing how, even after everything that had happened in the last hour, he would be shocked to hear her say it.
“Still,” she went on thoughtfully, “Eileen might like it.”
She sensed his query in the muffled noise through the gag. “Didn’t I tell you?” she asked, “Eileen will be here soon. I invited her for the evening. So I’m going to find myself some clean clothes and you can wait there for her like a good boy.”
She disappeared into the bedroom, returning fully dressed. She sat on the sofa, picked up a book and started to read, ignoring him completely.
The doorbell rang.
“Oh good,” she said. “Eileen’s here.”
She went to answer the door…
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"Why is it?" is one of a collection of short stories by Susan Strict published by A1AdulteBooks.com
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http://www.strictsusan.com
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"Why is it?" - a story - 
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