Free The Diary Of A Submissive: A True Story by Sophie Morgan

contrary, but having spent years dreaming of properly giving up control, when the moment came to do it, in person, with a sexy man whose mind was a mystery to me, it felt like maybe I wasn’t ready to give it up just yet after all.
    As the silence lengthened it became a battle of wills, which was stupid since I knew him touching me would be a victory for both of us. His hand rested gently on my mound, one of his fingers tapping gently on my clit – one, two, three times – like he was drumming his fingers on a table while I decided what to do next. His calm infuriated me more. So I stayed silent. I was definitely more stubborn than I realized, a recurring theme that has gotten me into trouble in dozens of ways dozens of times in the years since.
    A pause.
    Tom moved his hand away and turned to face me, then ran a finger, slick with my juices, around my mouth. I sucked it deep, tasting myself, licking him clean, and trying to somehow reassert some semblance of control. And yes, I know that sounds contrary after having spent so long yearning to give it up, but let’s just note it down as another recurring theme. As I pulled his finger deeper into my mouth, he smiled at my unspoken – and, admittedly, unsubtle – suggestion, pulled down his trousers and pulled his cock out. I strained forward, eager, and he fed himself to me. I sucked him, smiling around him as I heard him sigh his pleasure.
    I’ve always loved giving blow jobs – but never more so than with Thomas. Even during the most vanilla of shags he seemed so in control, and I loved shaking that up a bit, seeing his reactions, hearing his breathing quicken, feeling him grow in my mouth, tasting him as he came. I may have been giving up my control, submitting to his power, but with my mouth round his cock I had a different kind of power and it made my heart sing and my cunt wet. And right then, tied down, his cock pushing between my lips as I lay on my back on his bed, that felt reassuring.
    As I began to suck harder, he grabbed my hair. I moaned round his cock, glancing up to look at his face as I sucked deeper, moving eagerly, quickly, quickly, relentlessly, until I tasted him at the back of my throat. He sat back to regain his breath, running his hands lazily around my thighs. By then I was gagging for it. I’d learned that moving didn’t work in my favour though, so I laypassive as he ran his fingertips up and down, coming closer and closer to where I was aching for him to be. If I hadn’t been tied down I’d have been frigging myself senseless just to get some release, but instead I had to lie back, submit, as his finger slipped over my clit, an all-too-brief burst of pleasure, before going back to stroking meanderingly around my thighs.
    Suddenly the whole issue of begging or not begging didn’t matter. I was so desperate to come that I’d have said pretty much anything if it meant he’d let me. My hands were clenched into fists, I was biting my bottom lip and finally through a dry throat I was able to say, ‘Please.’
    His finger moved back to my core, gently stroking. He was definitely looking smug now. ‘Please, what?’
    The tone of his voice was different, darker, and it thrilled me and yet left me uncertain. This wasn’t easy-going, laid-back Thomas. It turned out my fuck buddy was a man of surprises. But not a man of patience.
    He pinched my nipple again, twisting it viciously. Tears filled my eyes and I gasped in pain. His voice was steely, not to be disobeyed and made me wetter, even as nervous butterflies moved in my stomach.
    ‘Please, what?’
    My brain locked. I’m someone who’s never lost for words, but I had no idea what I was supposed to say and was terrified that if I got it wrong he’d draw it out even longer. Or, even worse, stop. In the end in spite of myself I went for every variation that might do it.
    ‘Please, push your fingers inside me. Please touch me. Make me come, let me come. Please.’
    As I finished on the final