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fillinforlater · 1 year

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Possession of the Queen II

Female Reader x Kim Doyeon

Length: 3139 words

Tags: submissiveness, lesbian sex, size kink, dom/sub dynamics, people as sex toys, cunilingus, public sex, exhibitionism, clothed pussy, hair pulling, pussy eating but no breathing, emotional stimulation, orgasm, hints of love, sub!reader / dom!Doyeon

TW: very much public sex

Inspiration: "Sweet Juice" by Purple Kiss, @banananutsmuthie and because Doyeon hella gay

Credit: @midnightdancingsol for editing. Thank you!

PART 1 HERE

(A/N: Here we go, finally part two... if anyone actually cares xD. I really like writing these, it's definitely something different from the usual here. I hope you enjoy it too.)

“If it's that important to you, I won’t make it a problem.”

“Thank you so much!”

You give your boss a quick bow. Your heart still races after uttering your request and getting it accepted. It was likely that he would allow you to take some time off without prior warning, but there is something so wrong about it—sure, you do not know why your queen wants you around, but it’s surely not an acceptable reason to leave your awesome boss hanging, unless being a sex toy is socially accepted now.

“Can I know though,” your boss adds as you try to leave the office quickly, quietly, unsuccessfully, “what their name is?”

He has a big smirk across dark skin. while your skin on the other hand turns bright red, putting signal lights to shame. You don’t have to answer this, it’s certainly better to go now but you stop yourself. He has it figured out, your lie must have been even worse than you thought.

Now what? Is there a good response to this? Can you at least hide your lies better this time? Or are you willing to reveal some of this craziness to him?

“I’m sorry,” he says into the hard silence after a few seconds, “you don’t have to ans—”

“She—I mean, they, a-are awesome. Tall, strong, sm-smart and a-all that.”

He smirks again.

“I see. I hope you have a good time and that things will work out~”

Goddammit, your good-for-nothing mouth—or is it your brain—that has these lapses every time she gets mentioned, only hinted at?

You dart out of the office and onto the busy street. Humans walk across the sidewalks, from all sides they collide like tidal waves, yet they never hit each other. In this mess, there is you, a small nothing that no one notices. Among people with suits and ties and college students, you are invisible.

Is this your attempt at trying to run away from your embarrassment?

In all honesty, it might—another reason why you could never be on the same level as Doyeon.

She would stand her ground and command respect; you on the other hand can barely walk straight without bumping into a stranger. She would get her way, and if anyone disobeys, she would step over him with a death glare; you on the other hand shriek when someone laughs loudly. Doyeon would do whatever she likes; you on the other hand are a flower amidst the waves.

You gasp loudly when you see Doyeon laying in the spot you usually take in when she wants your services.

You certainly did not expect her to already await you, but what’s even more surprising is everything else. The way Doyeon swipes disinterestedly on her phone is almost as confusing to you as her outfit. The cool casualness of the all black shirt, shorts and stockings, paired with surprising sexiness does not fit her image of a cruel negotiator and business woman.

“Hi,” she says and looks at you.

“H-hello, my Queen,” you stutter and bow your head.

You feel her gaze on you a bit longer, before she goes back to watching reels, shorts, tiktoks, whatever. Although Doyeon has never looked at you for this long at a time, you’re still not nearly as interesting as the modern, mindless entertainment videos.

“You can leave the backpack there,” she adds, not bothering to speak louder than the voice from her phone. “Whatever is in it, you won’t need it for the next forty-eight hours. Just put it down.”

“Yes, Queen.”

You follow her command. The heavy green backpack was filled with literally everything you could think of, like Spare underwear, a tooth brush, snacks, a razor, spare glasses, even a marker, ropes, and a brand new dildo. You remember the tingling in your stomach when you pressed all these things into the backpack.

“You’re very punctual,” Doyeon says and throws her phone somewhere onto her large bed. She inches closer, off the cushions, until she stands right before you. “It seems to be one of your virtues. I like that.”

“Thank you, my Queen.” You bow again and get on your knees. Like so often, you feel right at home. Whenever you’re here, this is your proper place, with your forehead right at her kneecaps.

“And you are so obedient. I really like that” Doyeon coos and gently guides your chin up. Her thumb enters your mouth, the smell of her body enters your nostrils. It’s divine, golden, immaculate. You carefully suck her digits and moan an equally careful “thank you” as you do so.

“Our taxi leaves in one hour. In the bathroom is everything you need. Pick the clothes that you like and the make-up that makes your cute face look even prettier.” Doyeon’s explanation is quick, point after point like bullets fired from a gun. “Only call me if something is urgent. Understood?”

“Yes, Queen.”

Doyeon is constantly breaking all the notions you held about her before. She is so confident and absolutely majestic about it that it makes you doubt your eyes for a second. When you step out of the bathroom in one of the many simple, forgettable, loose outfits that were available, she already waits at the door in black leggings, a tight white crop top, and a huge overcoat draping from her shoulders. An outfit unfitting to your image before this day; she is really changing it up today.

‘Hurry up,’ she says with no urgency or stress, but excitement hidden beneath layers of professionalism. You take quick little steps behind her, down the stairway, across the lobby, into the taxi. Doyeon on the other hand takes strides, slow strides in brand new sneakers, but in your head they sound like clicking high heels.

The taxi ride is quiet the first few minutes, until Doyeon breaks the silence.

“Why did you choose that outfit?”

You look at her, but she looks out of the window. Something is blocking your throat making your voice sound like a pathetic cheep.

“I thought you would like this, I’m sor—”

“It looks good, better than I thought.”

Then it’s back to silence. As more time passes, you feel yourself getting more relaxed. Even the taxi driver, an uptight professional with flawless driving skill, seems more tense than you. He doesn’t dare to clear his throat, although his face looks cramped. You still can’t point out what changed though. Maybe it’s her compliment, her more approachable manner?

“We arrived. Follow me,” Doyeon says. You open the door on your side of the cab. The two of you climb out of the yellow vehicle. Doyeon throws what looks like at least two thousand dollars in green bills at the driver and tells him to stay put. She then turns to you.

“In the middle.”

Doyeon points towards the wide facade of the building right before you. Hundreds of people walk into and out of the rotating glass doors. Screens with billboards and repetitive ads are plastered everywhere. It seems that it’s even more extreme on the inside. Store after store after restaurant after store, some filled to the brim with people. A vibrant mall in the middle of a bright city.

“In the middle,” the Queen repeats herself with more assertion this time, “is something like a plaza, with a red floor made of sandstone. Make sure to stay by my side and lift your head while we walk there.”

She leans down to your face and you freeze in place. Your knees almost bend at her hot breath and scary whisper.

“Everyone should see your pretty face.”

The strides, again. Doyeon’s long legs carry her quickly into the crowd. Your glasses almost fall from your sweaty nose when you hastily run behind her. Luckily, the tall woman is easily visible among all those people who dare to not part like the sea before her.

Behind the entrance, the crowd has thinned out a little, making it possible for you to walk beside Doyeon. You won’t lie, it feels odd. Her entire plan is odd. People might get the wrong idea. They shouldn’t get any idea to begin with. For those that notice you to think that you two are equals, acquaintances, lovers even would be utterly false. If they knew you just are her sex toy of course would be very much mortifying.

As your mind makes up one concern after the other, you don’t think about why you are heading to where you are heading. An empty plaza with a red sandstone floor. It fits the color scheme of the rest of the building perfectly. A space without endless amounts of feet trampling on it is massively needed to thin out the packed crowd.

Suddenly, Doyeon reaches for your hand and entwines her fingers with yours. You yelp and look up.

“Keep your head up like this,” she says coldly, without looking at you.

You cringe at the sweatiness of your palm compared to the dry coldness of Doyeon’s. They must be perfect for hand shakes during her meetings. She speeds up and drags you behind her for a second until you regain footing. Try to keep your head up, look at the signs above the stores, praising delicious food or sales for cloths or fucking insurances. Who goes to a mall to buy insurance?

“You see it?” Doyeon asks, gradually decreasing her walking speed. Ahead of you is the previously mentioned plaza. Rough-looking tiles spread out into all directions from which people flock to the stores they like to visit. It's impossible to make progress without bumping into them. However this plaza is completely empty and everyone has an unobstructed view of it, especially from the upper floor.

Your heart beats faster every meter you follow Doyeon into the middle. The moment she stops, her hands are on your shoulders and she pulls you in front of her. You didn’t notice that she put on one of those black face masks that not only block you from breathing in smog and viruses but also keep your identity hidden. With just her eyes she stares you down, you can’t help but feel like a tiny, fragile puppy before her.

“Such a good girl,” Doyeon says and quickly drags a thumb over your glossy, red lips. “You know what to do, right?”

Doyeon unbuttons her overcoat to reveal her slender, athletic figure in tight clothes to you. Her leggings are pulled up just above her navel, the tight crop top makes her breasts look big and—Wait, what?

“Get on your knees.”

Around Doyeon, you always lacked the humane reaction to all her sexual requests: hesitation. She was just so overpoweringly convincing, there is no way you would have resisted her. But today it’s different. There are other people around, and you’re wide in the open for everyone to see. It’s just not the same, how could she expect you to oblige.

You stare up at her. Something about her gaze is off. It’s commanding, sure, but not with the same kind of power she usually possesses. It’s like Doyeon wants you to do it not out of fear or awe, but for a different reason. You try to decipher this reason as your hands instinctively reach for her overcoat for stability, almost having the audacity to touch her slender waist.

It’d be easier if you could see the rest of her face, those beautiful features, the way they contort at the lack of your reaction. The frown above her eyes, each wrinkle is dishonest and not telling the whole truth. Doyeon’s nails suddenly dig into your biceps, but it’s just another front. She is not saying it, there is no reason, and so you just stand there, neck hurting from staring up.

“Get on your knees, please.”

You gasp. If it weren’t for Doyeon’s hands on your arms, you would have fallen backwards, died on impact. The red sandstone would meet the red of your blood, and if you’re honest, after hearing this, it’s not even half bad. You’re the one getting on your knees, the one who looks weird for bystanders, the one who is on mouth-level with Doyeon’s pussy, yet she falters and loses her power.

Her hands are in your hair, making a mess of it, which isn’t unusual, however, today she is not pressing you into her core, her awaiting, eager lips. She is not using you, she is waiting for you to put your tongue on it. Even though she gives you all the control, the moment you realize the lack of panties underneath her leggings, you dig in.

From the beginning, her moans are loud enough to drown out the announcement of a missing child. You lean in further, the hem of your skirt barely covering your butt now. You knew it was short, but it’s scary to think that anyone just needs to tilt their head a bit down to see a damp spot on your light blue panties.

All because she said please? Throw away perhaps your job, your dignity, your life just for this one word? Judging from the way you find and nibble her clit with delight, it’s a resounding yes. You’re out of your mind—good.

Doyeon hisses and takes a step back. Your mouth instinctively follows and the inside of your thighs gets colder. People can see them, it’s not even a risk, it’s certainty. You hear the first shocked gasps from nearby girls. There are more and more people that slow down and stare. Those shopping stop and stare, those chatting stop and pull out their phones, even those in a hurry can’t help but stop and turn their head.

Flashes of light, the clatter of cameras accompanies your tongue as it presses the black fabric into the wet hole. You might not reach deep, but it’s enough to make Doyeon pull your hair in ecstasy. She goes from gazing up at the tall, glass ceiling, to down at you, the short girl with glassy eyes behind displaced glasses. She gently adjusts them, her sweaty fingers trailing over your equally sweaty cheeks.

Everyone is watching now. It’s eerily quiet, only whispering and the occasional camera can be heard. You know the rest is filming, gawking, getting aroused or infuriated, but your licks don’t stop. You eagerly eat Doyeon, faster than ever before. You dare to hold her thighs steady, as they tremble. Her arousal drenches more of her crotch, then her legs, but most importantly, your mouth.

You get ready to drink when she finally pulls you in herself. Your eyes roll into the back of your head as clear liquid goes through the expensive fabric and finds a way from Doyeon’s pussy into your mouth. Your nose is in her pelvis too, there is no oxygen, just cum and Doyeon’s feral groans.

The next thing you notice is her hand on your wrist. Doyeon has the overcoat back on and pulls you up from your feet before sprinting back the same way you entered the mall. The two of you crush into the frozen, flustered crowd like a bowling ball into pins. People tumble and fall to the floor, as do your glasses. No time to look back, Doyeon is going full speed for a reason.

Outside, unassuming travelers get shoved to the side, cursed out by her sudden regain of dominance, before she literally throws you onto the back row of the same cab as before. “West side, fast” she shouts at the driver and gets in as well.

The tires screech as Doyeon is still on top of you. She finds footing and grabs you by the sides like a child to make you sit up straight. The lack of glasses is not the main reason for your hazy vision. It’s all happening so fast, you forgot how to breathe up until this point. You take rapid, uncontrolled breaths; the strange smell of the taxi, a mixture of sweat, cigarettes and death, is welcomed by your nostrils.

“Hi, we’ll be there in twenty to thirty minutes,” Doyeon says into a phone on her cheek as she pulls away the black mask. “Yeah, depends on traffic. But feel free to prepare everything. I’ll take blonde. Yes, darker. I don’t think yellow suits me.

“What about you?”

She looks over to you. Your face must speak volumes of your confusion and it gets even worse when Doyeon leans closer to you.

“What color do you want?” she says nonchalantly, as if the last ten minutes were just a fever dream, the imagination of a horny boy walking in a mall and imagining that these two women might be more than friends.

“Uhm, I-I don’t—”

“Hair color, babe, which one do you want?”

Doyeon is so nonchalantly again, and you cannot deal with it. Her face is so fucking close, her smell suddenly too overwhelming and that word is making you spiral out of control.

“Pick whatever you want, it’s one me,” she adds and puts a finger on your knee. Only now you notice the red imprints and grazes on them and that they actually hurt. Your mind must have blocked out the way the rough sandstone grinded on your skin.

“Uhm, I, uhm, I take blue?” you say, unsure, unfocused, but Doyeon is satisfied with the answer.

“Did you hear that, Kellie? Yes, blue. I think a darker tone will suit her. Of course she is. Yes, see you, bye.”

Doyeon slides the phone back into her overcoat and opens it. Her chest is still heaving as well, her abs and navel are entirely exposed now, and her leggings are thoroughly soaked. It’s all you can see, because she is so fucking close. Even after this weird phone call, she still does not back off. Instead, she cups your entire knee and gently rubs it.

“I know you don’t understand any of this yet,” she sweetly says and chuckles. “But I know you trust me, right babe?”

Her eyes have this glow again. The same glow as back in the mall. This is a sincere question, there is real uncertainty behind it. Doyeon knows that she should be right about you trusting her, but you still have to confirm it.

You nod, flushed, out of breath once more, before putting your answer into words.

“Yes, Que—”

Doyeon puts a finger on your lips. She goes further in, lips on your earlobe, hot breath down your neck, fingers up your thigh. You are ready, so ready for her to make you melt into the seat. She just needs to bite down, put her fingers on your nub or just say the right word, and you would lose your mind.

“Don’t say it yet,” she whispers.

“Keep it for later, babe.”

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