The Mindgasm

She stood fully clothed, feet firmly planted on the ground, arms crossed. He stood a few feet away, leaning on the counter. They’d been talking for a while and he’d said it somewhat as a joke:

“Oh you’ll fuck whatever cock I tell you to fuck.”

The moment he’d said it, she felt the wave of energy wash over her and her eyes widened sightly as she took a gasp of air. Had he noticed? He might not have noticed. Perhaps it would pass.

After all, he’d meant it as a joke. But as soon as she’d heard it, she knew.

She would.

It wasn’t passing. She kept hearing him repeat those words, over and over in her mind. Every time she’d try to pull out of it, it would drag her back under until it was beyond the point of hiding it on her face.

He noticed.

“You want to come, don’t you?”

She nodded, almost imperceptibly.

“Ask for it,” he demanded.

“Please, Sir….,” her short gasps were coming more frequently now as she pushed back the overwhelming emotion that was threatening to take over.

He watched, somewhat awestruck – but with all the authority in his voice he granted her permission.

It wasn’t particularly loud, but it was intense. Intense enough that she had to lean forward and hold on to the table for balance as the orgasm ran through her and escaped through deep sighs and measured breaths.

After it was over, she pulled a chair out and sat down. “Woah,” she exclaimed.

“No shit. What was that?”

She looked up at him. “It just, sort of, happened.”

“But why? I wasn’t even touching you or anything.”

“No, you just…,” her voice trailed off. This wasn’t part of the arrangement they had.

“What?” he pressed.

“No, it’s nothing. You just said something kinda hot and it got me all …you know.”

“No, no. It was more than that. What did I do that made that happen?”

She shook her head.

He brought out his authoritative voice again. “Tell me.”

Her eyebrows knit together as she looked into his eyes with her own, pleading for him to let her keep her secret. An eyebrow raise from him told her that would not be an option.

“You made me feel owned,” she admitted.

“And that made you come?” he asked.

“Yes,” she answered.

He paused for a minute. The tension in the air was thick.

“Do I own you?” he asked.

That was the opening she needed to break the tension. With a smirk, she looked up again. “Not if you have to ask, you don’t.”