The Lifeline

The bitch left me there, kneeling on the cold marble, for fifteen minutes. I knew, because I cheated by glancing at the clock at the top of the stairs. I had to display my rebellion where I could. Only twenty-three and three-quarter hours left.

My head was down, but my eyes secretly leaked upward as the demon descended the staircase. I expected some kind of tight black latex getup with long spiked heels. I did not expect what came down the stairs. She was completely naked, nothing on, not even jewelry. Her hand still held the cursed crop with confidence. I cursed my cock as it started to respond to her breasts that bounced slightly with every step. She was strutting down the stairs, showing off whatever exercise program she adhered too. 'Bitch, bitch, bitch,' I corrected my brain. My cock ignored me like a slimy traitor.

She stood before me, my head pointing at her feet, my eyes sneaking a peek between her legs. I hated myself for wanting to see. There it was, two feet away, a cute slit without any stubble, bare as the day she was born. I swallowed before I drooled and forced my eyes back to the floor. 'Bitch, bitch, bitch. Fucking traitorous dick.'

"Your apology?" It sounded like a question, but I knew it was command. I had forgotten all about coming up with one. It's just a fucking basket.

"Sorry, basket," I mumbled. I couldn't believe how embarrassing it was to say it. The whoosh once again warned me what was coming.

"That..didn't..sound..sincere!" She emphasized each word with a stinging whip of the crop to my thigh and side. One at a time was manageable. I involuntarily scrunched up my eyes and barely took the flurry of blows. Visions of grabbing the thing out of her hand and beating welts across her body flooded my brain. Why did I agree to this? She paused, I assumed to let me try again. I let my eyes rise a bit, more to see if another blow was coming. What I saw was glistening along the lips of her pussy. My pain was her gain. This was a lose-lose no matter how I reacted.

"I am truly sorry, Mr Basket. I will never disrespect you again." I pulled it from the top of my head and enunciated it clearly. The witch squatted to my level. I briefly saw her nether lips part and display her moist pink flower. She lifted my chin and forced my eyes to hers.

"I believe you," she said with that loving smile. Damn, I made her happy again. Those fucking bright red lips were inches away from mine. I wanted them between my teeth so I could bite down and see if her blood was just as red. I was sure my anger was apparent on my face.

Her smile increased when her eyes dropped between my legs. My cock had decided to ignore my anger and enjoy her nudity. "You touch that and I will show you true anger," she stressed through ruby red lips. She emphasized her point by tapping my erection lightly with the leather end of the crop. I flinched at the implications. My traitorous cock twitched at the attention. 'Fuck me,' was all I could think.

She rose while tilting my head toward the floor. My eyes returned to her feet, her toenails were impeccably manicured with bright red polish. "Follow me," she commanded and headed to the stairs.

"Yes, Mistress," I said without thinking. I clenched my hands into fists to chastise myself for falling into line. My legs hurt when I rose. They didn't enjoy the kneeling position and complained until I was able to straighten them again. Climbing the stairs got the blood flowing through them and restored their vigor.

I followed her ass up the steps with trepidation. I had visions of some kind of torture chamber. Her tight swinging ass wasn't helping the situation. With each step it swayed either left or right, but never bounced. It was a firm pillow that begged to be groped. I stayed my hands and tried hopelessly to ignore the view. 'Bitch, bitch, bitch.'

I followed her down the hall toward a room at the far end. Apprehension kicked in again. That's exactly where a private sex room would be. Away from the beaten path where guests weren't likely to stumble into. My heart was racing a bit. The thought of being strapped to some implement with the demon witch in control was not a pleasant thought. I could play at being submissive, but I don't think I could go all the way. I slowed my steps, trying to give myself some time to think. I hadn't even been through a full hour.

I watched her disappear into the room. I stopped, closed my eyes and tried to think how far I was willing to go. I was willing to play along as long as I could stop it if I chose. That was the line I wasn't willing to cross. Being restrained was not an option. Even if I had to wait in the soup line, I wasn't giving that up to her. My pride returned in force. I walked forward with purpose. This was ending now. I turned into the room and lost my train of thought.

The room was bright and airy. Two french doors were opened to a balcony that was layered with pots of colorful flowers that gave the room its perfume. There was a white dresser with bottles and lotions and a stack of fresh white towels. In the center of the room was a massage table. She was lying on her stomach with her head on a small pillow - her eyes staring daggers at me.

"Move, Slut!" she spat, "the hot oil is on the dresser." A massage I could do. If you blocked out her evil eyes, she looked stunning laid out on the table. She had just the right curve in the small of her back to accent her ass. I smiled at my luck.

"Sorry, Mistress," I said moving quickly for the oil. She caught me on the ass with crop as I passed. I gave her a little flinch which seemed to satisfy her need to punish. In truth, there was no strength behind it. If you think about it, I was kind of in charge now. Her skin was at my mercy. I didn't even admonish my cock as it strained to emphasize the beauty laid out before me.

I threw a towel over my shoulder and pulled the hot oil dispenser from its heater. I could smell the lavender scent the oil was giving off as I moved to the table. "Start on my arms," she instructed in a soft voice. She left the crop along the end of the table and laid both arms along her sides. I squirted some oil into my hands and rubbed them together to get a good, even coat.

I started on her right hand, specifically the palm, with my thumbs. I knew a thing or two about giving a massage. I have had some really good ones and I remembered what was done. I once had one on a cruise that practically put me in heaven. This older woman in her sixties had the hands of an angel. She turned all my muscles to jello. I tried to duplicate her talents here.

Ms. Sampson moaned as I dragged my thumbs across her palm. I felt the muscles of her hand give up their stress. I moved toward the wrist after another coat of oil, kneading softly, slowly increasing the pressure as I got to the meatier forearm. I saw her breathing slowing and she readjusted her head for maximum comfort. She was putty in my hands. I applied more oil and worked slow circles around her bicep while I stared at her butt. It really was a thing of beauty.

I walked around her head, past the idle crop, to her left hand. I repeated the process on that arm to a chorus of light coos. My head was swimming with visions of grabbing the crop and painting stripes on her firm ass. It was about this time when I realized I was getting a little worked up. I had been at it for about fifteen minutes and it felt like a century of foreplay.

"Stop staring at my ass," she ordered. I looked at her eyes watching mine.

"It's hard to ignore, Mistress," I said and smiled. Two could play this game. I had said nothing wrong and had just given her a veiled compliment. Maybe I thought her ass was nice, or too big, or I just meant it was naked. I could see the thinking behind her eyes and relished her confusion. I moved above her head, coated my hands with more oil and began to work on her shoulders.

"Why is it hard to ignore?" she asked with a tone that sounded a bit threatening. The long delay between my statement and her question was delicious. All women are hesitant about their bodies. Even a rich and powerful bitch. It didn't take a genius to know I had struck a cord.

"It's not for me to say, Mistress." I dodged like a turn-of-the-century servant. I had little power in the relationship, but I would grab what I could. I knew this might blow up in my face, but what the hell. Some risks are more fun than others. She moaned as I kneaded firmly behind her ears and along her neck.

"Cut the shit and answer," she sighed. It was difficult for her to get mad as I worked her neck. I could feel the muscles losing their desire to stay awake.

"Well it kind of stands out, Mistress," I risked it. I knew this one leaned toward the fat ass side of the spectrum. I could feel the muscles tightening under my fingers. I may have taken the teasing a bit too far. I leaned down toward her ear and whispered, "Because it's fucking perfect." I omitted the Mistress just to taunt her. I wanted to see how she would handle a compliment mixed with insubordination. She reached up slowly, grabbed the crop and lightly tapped me on the thigh.

"It's fucking perfect, Mistress," I reiterated.

"You have my permission to stare at my ass," she said in a sleepy tone and returned the crop and her hand to the massage table. I saw half a smile and knew that below her tough exterior lay a self-conscious woman. Score one for me.

I began working on her back. I pushed my oiled hands down her spine to just above her ass. I then returned along the sides to the top, barely scraping the sides of her mashed breasts. My imagination kicked in and I saw those ruby red lips encircling my cock as I shifted back and forth along her back. It would have only taken a little tilt of her head to accomplish. I quickly moved back to her side to get the image out of my head. I had a serious urge to deal with my erection.

I spent another ten minutes on her back before I switched to her feet. If you really want to relax someone, try a hot oil massage on the soles of their feet. I almost had her asleep as I worked on the toes and rubbed the soles with my thumbs. I was even able to calm my erection, at least until I looked up.

Nestled between her thighs, just below her perfect butt, part of her flower was exposed. I felt a twinge re-excite my cock. I tried to look away, but there was an inviting sheen on those exposed lips. She was wet and I was horny as hell. Gorgeous lips, perfect ass and glistening pussy, that was more than a man should have to endure. I forced myself to look at her feet and doubled my efforts. It wasn't long before my eyes leaked back to the apex of her thighs. My balls were beginning to hurt.

I moved to the side and began working on her lower leg. She reestablished her position on the pillow with her eyes closed. I could only see her wonderful ass now. Both sets of lips were hidden from me which helped a little. I turned my mind to business. I thought about what could be done with the new working capital. I could increase marketing, and thus increase sales once we went live. I could hire Bob some help and speed final development. There was a firm specializing in user interfaces that might be able to improve the user experience. Those thoughts didn't drop the swelling, but did quell the immediate urges.

Another fifteen minutes and only her ass was not oiled. As much as I wanted to knead that tight flesh, I didn't think my poor balls could take it. I wasn't sure if her rolling over was going to do me any favors either. Maybe the hour I had already spent on her would be enough.

"You're ignoring my gluteus maximus," she said with disdain. I stopped breathing for a moment as I stared at her taut perfection. It was time for a bit a truth.

"I'm going to explode, Mistress," I said with reluctance. I was hoping she would show some mercy. Hell, I would relieve myself. She lifted her head lazily and looked between my legs. I followed her eyes. There was long string of clear pre-cum from the tip to the floor, terminating in a small puddle.

"Oh my," she said with little compassion, "for your employees' sake, I hope you don't lose it before your time is up." She lay her head on the pillow. "Get back to work."

'You fucking bitch!' I mouthed to myself. It was almost out loud, but her reference to my employees caused me to hold it in. She was a sexy, evil demon bitch. I had never been so lit up in my life. I re-coated my hands with oil, closed my eyes and kneaded those magnificent cheeks. I tried to imagine myself kneading pizza dough. It didn't work. I ended up biting the inside of my cheek until I tasted blood. I hated her with a passion at that moment. I was beginning to think my earlier dungeon thoughts would have been preferable. The pain helped so I bit my tongue. Hard.

I applied more oil and decided to cause a stir. This time I ran the side of my hand between her cheeks, deliberately along her anus. I wasn't tender and I didn't feign an accident. I saw her feet jump. No more of this slow, tender crap. My dick was killing me and anger and pain were the only things giving me a slight respite. I purposely dragged my hand up the crack and made sure her anus wasn't ignored. I saw her whole body twitch and her head snapped up. She turned on her side, ass away from my reach.

"Knees!" she yelled. I dropped to my knees and dropped my eyes to the ground. I couldn't believe how hard I was breathing. At least I couldn't see her nakedness anymore. My poor cock was twitching, begging to be relieved. I closed my eyes and prayed for pain.

I heard the whoosh and didn't flinch when my back was struck. I relished the pain. I leaned into it. It was wonderfully distracting. A sound came out of my mouth, not a groan, more like a relieved moan. Another whoosh, more powerful than the first, whistled by my ear and struck me on the breast. This time I emitted an "ahhh" as the blood began to leave my dick and return to my body. There wasn't a third strike and I desired a third.

"More," I begged. I had to lose my lust. I had gone this far and I decided I wasn't stopping now. I wanted the passion whipped out of me. I was answered with silence. Opening my eyes, I looked upward. She stood before me in her naked glory, with those full ruby red lips and her black crop in hand. She had confusion on her face. I took no pleasure from it, although I knew I should.

"Please," I asked again. I was afraid my parts were going to burst. I wanted, for the first time in my life, to lose my erection. She raised the crop, thought better of it, and dropped it to her side.

"Eyes down! Stay!" she ordered and then left the room. I have no idea how long she was gone. All I knew was that the silence and lack of visual stimulation slowly brought me back to normal. My heart rate lowered and I felt calm again. I had a difficult time understanding how I got to the point where I was begging to be whipped. I stored away the knowledge that she obviously did not enjoy me asking for it. I had gained another small piece of control.

When the she devil returned she found me still kneeling and looking at the floor. It was a kind of therapeutic position for me at that moment. It allowed me to think without distraction and the slight pain in my knees helped me down from my pre-orgasmic cliff. She lay, ass down, on the table.

"You will begin again," she said, "you will remain attentive and your fingers will be loving." She had limits to her domineering. I think she found my limit and was willing to take a step back, but wasn't going to admit it. I was surprised to hear the word 'loving.' It didn't seem to fit the arrangement she had devised. It was a good description of what I wasn't doing when I attacked her ass.

I stood up, flexing my knees, to get the blood back in my legs. She was magnificent lying there. Her breasts had relaxed slightly toward her sides and her hair flowed over the pillow and toward the floor. She had removed her braid which gave her hair an attractive curl. Something was up. This woman was calculating. I promised myself I would remain wary.

"Where would Mistress like me to start?" I was back to the turn of the century. I smiled, feeling more like myself again.

"Arms, shoulders, breasts, tummy then cunt. In that order," she stated without any reservation. My cock gave a twitch. 'You bitch,' I thought. She was trying to be more attractive. She was going to get me going again. She was going to 'brink' me to death. When she said 'loving' she meant slowly.

"Yes, Mistress," I answered. I oiled my hands and tried to think of baseball. I hated baseball. I went to work on her arms, slowly like she demanded. I was able to keep my eyes off her parts and concentrate only where my fingers were. I knew this would only work until I got to her breasts, but it was working right now. My dick was pretty exhausted and, hopefully, desired to remain retired. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a knowing smirk. 'Bitch, bitch, bitch.'

When I got to her shoulders, I had to stand over her head. My peripheral vision was catching her ruby lips and her breasts. My dick respected both as a sign of encouragement. I breathed slowly, trying to will my heartbeat to slow down. I brought my eyes down and saw only her lips. Those two ruby red lovely lips. She was pursing them ever so slightly. I glanced quickly at her eyes and I saw humor in them. Then she sighed, gently parting her lips. I took a long blink as my cock began to grow. At least its exhaustion was slowing its rebirth. When I opened my eyes again, she was tenderly biting her lower lip.

"Mistress, please," I begged. She had me and she knew it. I should have tried to negotiate harder, maybe less time with more frequency. Twenty-four hours seemed beyond male endurance.

"My breasts now." She ignored my pleas and kept up the pressure. Her smile took on that evil quality again. I applied a fresh coat of oil to my hands. I stalled by making sure they were well coated. I needed as many breathers as I could sneak in. I leaned forward, and as I did, I felt her unfurled hair tickle my prick. I nearly jumped out of my skin when I felt the soft caress from her tresses. A small half giggle escaped the bitch's lips. I started to move to her side, anywhere away from those ticklish brown strands.

"Remain where you are and concentrate on the nipples," she ordered. "Tenderly," she added, probably remembering my previous ass work. Trying not to move my pelvis in any way, I began to tenderly massage her breasts. I carefully rolled the nipples between my forefingers and thumbs. I felt her hair drag across my growing erection.

"Mmmmmm, that feels nice," she cooed as she slowly moved her head from side to side, dragging her hair back and forth.

"Mistress, please," I begged again. My cock was beginning to gain its previous vigor which bordered on scary. I wasn't sure how much I could handle before physical damage set in. I mean blue balls were one thing, black and blue had to be detrimental to fatherhood.

"Tummy now," she instructed and gestured to her right side. I sighed as I moved quickly to the side and refreshed my oil. I intended to spend as much time as possible here. If you squint your eyes just right, you can form a little tunnel of vision that almost fully cancels your peripheral vision. I learned that skill at that moment. Her tits and pussy faded from view and I happily concentrated on her midriff. You had to appreciate whatever exercise program she was on. I could feel the muscles beneath the skin. If she were a man, it would have been a six-pack.

"I guess you, being male, have thoughts about my oily breasts," she said conversationally, "you probably want to know what it would be like to slide your cock between them." Visions invaded my brain. I dropped my squint and saw nothing but slick, shiny breasts.