BDSM Erotica: Birthday Girl

She took a deep breath outside the door, the cold drizzle of a February rain causing a puffy cloud to stream out. She could walk away now, chicken out and go home and pretend she’d never gotten gussied up and left the house.

Or she could push the buzzer.

The little white rectangle stood out from the plate on the side of the doorway. A giant tooth ready to bite, or a sleek little candy inviting her to get into the stranger’s van.

She pushed it, the buzzing tripping over something in her brain. The line that marked the point of no return. The line was broadened by the buzz of the door itself, a different tone of the lock disengaging to allow her in. She pushed the door open and stepped over the threshold into a new realm of possibility.

Stairs up, her own shoes the only sound on them. Music above, voices. The party was already going though she was only ten minutes past the starting time. She’d learned long ago to arrive a few minutes after a start time rather than too early, if she could help it.

The corridor was quiet, bright. The door before her stood as large as the door buzzer had sounded. The final portal. This was the true point of no return. She could still go downstairs and go home and pretend she’d never been here.

Her hand closed on the knob, turned it, pulled the door open. Within was dark. The first thing she saw was a square of light and a legless torso lit from behind.

“Hi. Welcome. Come on in. What name did you register under?”

She gave it and the pretty young lady found her on the list. The rules of the house were explained. Simple enough. Don’t touch without asking. Take your shoes off before getting on a bed. There were others, but they were all complete common sense and her standard operating procedure anyway.

She handed over her wet coat and umbrella, collected her coat check ticket, and went through to the social area. People already talking, a buffet of snacks. She got herself a cup of water, trying not to look as conspicuous as she felt. More people came in, said hello to others, hugged like long lost friends.

She knew no one at this venue, and so felt as out of place as a person possibly could. Standing at a tall table for a few minutes, no one approached. They were engaged in their own catching up conversations. She crossed over to the sofas, taking a corner position and wondering how to open any conversation.

“Hi. I’m ____. Let’s go have sex” seemed a bit forward even though that was precisely why almost everyone was at the party. For some reason, they expected this ritual of chatting about nothing first.

“Hi, I’m _____. Have you been here before?”

She looked up to see him smiling, hand outstretched. She grasped it, hoping he wouldn’t crush her hand. Indeed, his hand was welcoming, enveloping, cradling hers rather than trying to pulverize every bone of her fingers.

“I’m _____. No, this is my first time at this venue.”

She hoped he wouldn’t quiz her, as she’d already forgotten his name. He had such gorgeous dark eyes.

Rather than talk about sex, they talked about varieties of moonshine. She hadn’t brought anything to drink, but had seen the Mason jar on the bar when she’d gotten her water.

“Would you like to go play?” he asked after about fifteen minutes.

“Sure,” she smiled, glad the chitchat could be over.

She followed him into the room beyond the curtained doorway. Several beds were laid out at the far end, people were sitting silently along the wall at the near end. One couple was doing their thing in the farthest corner.

“Where do you prefer?” he asked quietly.

“I’d prefer a bed by itself,” she said, seeing most of the beds were paired up.

He went directly to one near the rear wall and started taking off his shirt. At once her interest soared. He had a covering of fur that beckoned for her to come touch and run her fingers through.

“Oooh, you have a hairy chest. Can I play with it?” she asked, her fingers already there.

He smiled. “You like body hair on a guy?”

“Very much,” she grinned wider, fingers closing to gently pull and let those dark wisps slip between. Her fingertips slid over and through, and she looked up to see him watching her face. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” he said. “I like that you’re so openly enthused. A lot of women freak out. It’s terrific to find someone who does enjoy what I have.”

She kept the smile and turned around to lift her hair. “Would you unzip me?”

She could have just pulled it over her head, as she’d specifically chosen the outfit to be easy to get out of repeatedly; but suddenly the sensation of a man opening her zipper for her was the one thing she longed for most in the world.

“Certainly,” he said, finger and thumb closing over the tab to pull it halfway down her back.

She shimmied the dress down to fall to the floor, stepping out of it and her shoes at the same time as she often did when coming home from work. She was undressed first, and laid on her side on the bed. He finished undressing and reached into the bedside bowl for a condom and a packet of lube.

On his knees beside her, she reached for his penis. He was a show-er, already sizeable in her hand.

“I really don’t need foreplay,” she said when he reached for her tits.

“No? Really?”

She nodded. “I have Persistent Arousal Syndrome. I’m always primed to one degree or another. I’m also accustomed to no foreplay. I don’t need to be touched. You don’t have to get me hot. I already am.”

His cocked surged harder in her hand, the thought of no foreplay apparently hitting a good spot for him as well.

“I do prefer to be on my knees, if you don’t mind,” she said, rising up to them. “On my back gets hard to breathe.”

Usually because a guy didn’t know how to keep his weight up off her, but she didn’t need to say that.

“If you give me a few minutes at first, I promise I fuck like a demon,” she grinned, about to turn.

He stopped her, a hand under her chin, and tilted her head back. His mouth came down onto hers, tongue sliding into her mouth in a hard kiss that spoke of potential.

“Okay with me,” he said, releasing her mouth. “But you should know something else.”

“What?” she asked.

“I read your piece about what you want from a dominant sadist. It’s time for you to shut up so I can have my way with you in front of all these people who have no idea.”

She lost her breath. Her arms and legs shook, entire body turning to jelly. He let her go and she finished her turn to brace on her forearms. His first spank wasn’t so hard that she would yell stop. Or red, if she could ever remember that was supposed to be the House safe word. But wow was it close. The sting radiating out over her buttock and down her thigh stole her voice. The next one gave it back and she grunted into the pillow between her forearms. He toasted her entire bottom and halfway down the backs of her thighs before taking a moment’s pause to put on the condom.

Behind her, a slap of the cool lubricant on the tip of his dick, he held her down at the shoulder with his other hand and bent over to speak privately.

“Are you ready for this?” he asked. “Or were you bluffing?”

“I don’t bluff,” she said. “All I ask is the couple minutes to let me relax and open up once you penetrate.”

“I don’t hear a please. Or a sir. Or anything that tells me you understand the position you are in.”

She had an orgasm. Spontaneous, merely from hearing the words of her deepest needs being touched.

“I am ready for this, Sir,” she chose to say.

The hand slid down her back, large and warm, fingers wide open. An odd comfort, it stilled the butterflies that had sprung up.

His cock was slightly larger than average, nicely thick. She grunted a long sigh with his initial penetration, that white-hot electricity zinging out over her shoulders and arms, down her legs and over her knees. Climax on penetration. She’d told men it could happen. He’d done it.

He was slow at first, pushing a bit deeper with each pass until he was balls deep. She breathed through it, sighed and lowered her face to the bed as she’d been made to do a thousand times over the previous fifteen years. She felt her pelvis relax and open for him.

“How’s that?” he asked with another of those hard slaps to the side of her thigh.

“I’m ready for a bit faster, please. I’ll let you know when I’m able to take it hard.”

His hand closed in her hair, pinning her head to the bed.

“I think you should shut up and fucking take it, slut,” he said, and thrust in with enough force to jerk the mattress on the bed.

That was it. She came undone, came so hard his next thrust splashed the gush of her ejaculate all over his pelvis and lower belly. In seconds, he was pounding into her with the force of a dragon fucking his mate. Droplets of her cum landed all over her buttocks, leaving them with enough damp to sting like a motherfucker when he issued another of those hard spanks from above.

Several minutes of body pounding and he slowed to a more sensual rhythm. She moved with him for as long as he wanted, stiffening her limbs at the first sign of returning to the violent pounding she loved so much.

A group of younger attendees came to the bed nearest them during a long moment of slower undulation. She heard some of their noises, heard someone shouting about making her cum like a dirty slut. Then they went silent.

Or her ears shut. Whatever.

She was being pounded again and that was all she cared about. His sounds changed. He huffed in short bursts. A sudden groan accompanied several sharp thrusts, then came that final grind of his own ejaculation.

He pulled out and she fell fully to the bed.

“Fuck, that was good!” she said.

“Yeah it was,” he said, falling beside her and slapping her ass.

“Yeah it was,” came a voice from the next bed over.

The five younger attendees had been watching.

“They started after us and finished before us,” he said with a grin.

She matched his grin, the sex high roaring in on her like a freight train. “I noticed.”

“Happy Birthday,” he said, getting off the bed to grab his clothes.

She looked for him when she was able to get dressed. Only a few minutes, but he was already gone. She asked, but no one could tell her who he was. No one remembered seeing him, even when she described his shirt and his eyes. They only shrugged.

She could only hope that she’d see him again sometime.

TylerRose. is known as Dame Tyler in the NYC public SM/Fetish scene. She is an award-winning author who has written two “lifestyle”, four cartoon, and twenty fiction books that you can find on Amazon. She enjoys crocheting and baking, and will no doubt die with a thesaurus open on her thigh.

https://www.amazon.com/TylerRose./e/B00HCPLSP2

You can find more of her work in Fetlife: https://fetlife.com/users/305828