tagFetishWaiting For It

Waiting For It

byMarthaD©

It was an ordinary day except for the fact that it was only mid-morning and I was aching for a good hard orgasm. My husband had been out of town for a few days and before that had been my time of the month. It had been a good 10 days since we had a nice rousing session where all the right buttons were pushed and an amazing gasping, moaning, climax was ripped from me.

As described in my prior stories, my husband and I enjoy our own flavor of a female led marriage (Nothing more gratifying provides the best background, but all of my stories provide different bits and pieces). In simple terms, for us this means that I decide when, where and how we have sex and my husband is rationed a few orgasms a month with the terms dictated by me. As a result, it's far from the normal situation for me to be the one in need.

I had hoped to get a little attention last night. My husband had been due to arrive home from his trip around 10 o'clock and I figured to put him to work pleasuring me as soon as he arrived. Laying back in bed I wore a silky dark purple chemise that could quickly be removed to give him access to my tasty breasts and very pointy nipples.

I was still breast feeding our now one-year old child and my breasts were very sensitive. We had tried a bit of lactation play, but weren't really all that into it. Still, it was very, very sensual to feel my husband lap up the dribbles of milk that inevitably leaked from my engorged breasts after a nice satisfying orgasm.

Part of the joy was the afterglow of the orgasm itself. Part of the joy was the sensuality of his warm tongue on my sensitive skin. But the best part of the joy for me was the taboo of watching my submissive man cleaning me after sex. This had been a part of his training that he had learned to accept and I had learned to enjoy.

So I lay there reading in my silky chemise, nipples proudly tenting the surface, waiting to be caressed and touched. I wasn't wearing panties, but I was wearing smoky black stockings held up by a matching black garter. My husband has a huge foot fetish and I was sure that he'd come to full attention the second he saw his favorite black nylons and garters framing my neatly trimmed bush.

Of course the other benefit of not wearing panties is that it gave me the opportunity to occasionally slip a finger down between my folds and give myself a gentle rub or two to keep my arousal up. A few gentle flicks to keep one corner of my mind firmly tuned to sexual pleasure, priming my clit for the full stimulation that was soon to follow.

While stockings began as his fetish, I've come to totally love the way they feel and how great they make my legs look. I appreciate the comfort of keeping my legs bare (like so many women do), but I also enjoy the smooth silky feeling of stockings hugging my legs all day. I also get a little erotic kick out of knowing I'm wearing something sexy underneath. Because of my husband's fetish I wear stockings, pantyhose or tights just about all the time -- only keeping my legs naked in the heat of the summer when he can enjoy my pretty painted toes in tall strappy sandals.

Even in the summer however, I like to wear stockings when we have sex. I like to feel the silky nylon rubbing against my skin as he caresses me. I love the way the fabric clings to me when he sucks on my toes and licks my sole. Best of all is when he licks me through the crotch of my pantyhose and I can feel the nylon pressed against my clit multiplying the energy of his tongue and fingers.

Because of his travel, it had been three days since my toes and soles had been treated to one his loving, gentle foot rubs. I routinely get these every day regardless of whether we do anything more and my feet craved the attention. It was my habit to wear three or four inch heels to the office and nothing worked out the kinks from a day in high heels like his firm hand kneading my soles, relaxing the muscles in the ankles and joints and easing the pressure on my toes.

His service would begin with his firm hands. He'd then provide oral attention with kisses of adoration and a tongue that knew all of my arousal spots. Once my foot was fully relaxed (and sometimes other parts of me awakened by the attention) he'd carefully apply lotions and oils to leave my beautiful foot baby soft and enticingly scented. He never seems to get enough of handling my feet and at this point I'm fully addicted to the attention and become aroused by the process almost as much as him.

Laying back I wiggled my toes and could see the dark red polish through the reinforced toe. I'd need to have him repaint them soon, but not tonight. Tonight I needed his mouth and his hands employed elsewhere. My vulva tremored just a bit, thinking of the possibilities. I rubbed my breasts through the chemise until my nipples were pointy and hard. I needed him here and I needed him now.

I could hardly wait to look down and watch him kneel before me suckling my toes. I wanted to see his mouth fully stretched around my foot and stocking covered toes. I wanted to feel my toes wiggling against his frantic tongue. I wanted to feel the power of knowing how hard it made him to be sucking my toes and that I'd soon have him begging to give me any pleasure I wanted.

Just thinking of him down there had started to stir my juices and looking at the clock I could see that I had been gently touching and pleasuring myself for about half an hour as I drifted in and out of my fantasies. Unfortunately the clock also said I still had more than an hour to go before his expected arrival. I needed to slow down and pace myself.

Deciding a relaxing cup of herbal tea might calm me down a bit and buy some time, I slipped my stocking toes into my three inch bedroom mules and made my way downstairs. The mules really aren't the most comfortable shoes, but I loved to wear them when I wanted to feel sexy and they had featured prominently in many sexy scenarios.

I can't begin to count all of the times I had made my husband masturbate with this exact pair of shoes. I could picture his cum flowing down the slope of the instep to pool in a creamy white puddle in the toe.

Usually a little bit dripped off the end or oozed off the side before I allowed him to clean up his mess and he began slurping up his slippery white globs and gathering each drop with his tongue. He wasn't finished until he had gotten all of it, and watching him complete his humiliatingly submissive task was usually enough to send some fresh tingles to my own loins.

I loved having him eat me to one more orgasm after allowing him to cum. Knowing that he would need to pleasure me with no prospect of his own release is tremendously satisfying. She who cums last, cums best. Any aspiring dominant should definitely give it a try. It really puts a man in his place.

Perhaps not surprisingly, gliding through the house nearly naked in heels and stockings, the moisture of my bare pussy open to the air, was not settling me down one bit. In fact, it was a rather decadent feeling to be prancing about dressed in a slutty outfit anticipating a night of sex. Thinking I'd have to try this again in the future, I turned myself to the task of making tea when the phone rang.

Unfortunately it was my husband. Although he had texted me a while ago that his plane was boarding, apparently his flight had been put on a ground delay and he wasn't sure what time he'd be home, but was pretty sure it would be after 11 at the earliest.

Needless to say, this was not good news, all the more so as charged-up as I had become. I promised I'd wait up for him and we signed off, as we often do, with some embarrassing endearments.

I'd begin by saying, "I love you my submissive footboy"

His required response, "I love you too my queen"

Then I'd say something sexy like, "I can't wait to have you kneeling at my feet" or

"I can't wait to feel your tongue between my toes" or

"I can't wait to feel your breath on my clit"

To which he was obliged to reply, "I can't wait to see to your needs." Innocent enough for the average bystander, but we both knew what he was agreeing to.

He's told me that he always gets hard and usually blushes when we do this exchange, even if he's by himself and not sitting in the aisle seat of a crowded airplane. It gave me a tingle of satisfaction, even through my disappointment, to know that was both aroused and red faced.

While the tingle was nice, it was doing very little to calm my urges which had now been put on indefinite hold. As I went for my dressing robe to help cover at least a little of my nakedness it occurred to me that somehow this mistress had found herself on the wrong end of a wicked little tease and denial game.

Soothing herbal tea at my side I returned to the bedroom and tried to resume reading my book. I managed it for about an hour, my impulses poking at me from time to time like a mosquito bite that constantly needed itched. Although the urges were building in strength, I was able to dispatch them with a few idle rubs of my clit or maybe a soothing caress of a breast or a few nipple tweaks.

By 10 o'clock I could stand it no more. He was supposed to have been here. I was hot and ready and knew that the only way I could take the edge off was to take care of myself. One of the dozens of great things about being a woman is the ability to have as many orgasms as you want in one night. There's really no physical limitation, it's only a matter of desire. Without a doubt, my desire was far greater than one little orgasm.

While I'm sure many women differ, I've always had much better orgasms with my man than I ever get on my own. The ones I get when I pleasure myself are easier to achieve, but usually far less intense. For me, it's like eating a Hershey kiss compared to a Godiva truffle, they are both good but one is much richer and much more fulfilling and decadently satisfying than the other.

Digging through my night table I found my little tickler vibe. Setting it on low, I dimmed the lights, pulled up the covers and laid my head back on my silky pillows. Closing my eyes I concentrated on the soft vibrations, isolating myself from all around me. Just my vibe and a vagina in need of stimulation, everything else was mist.

I knew the vibe wasn't really set strong enough to bring me off, but the sensations were delicious and they were definitely building up my arousal. I could feel my flower open and my mind was drifting to a blissful, pleasurable place.

Gradually a fantasy began forming in my mind. I love sexual fantasies, it's such a healthy way to get in touch with your most daring desires. Compared to the loving dominant wife I am in real life, I'm usually much more the stern mistress in my fantasies. I doubt I'd ever try many of the things I fantasize about, but there must be a part of me that's intrigued by it.

* * * * *

"Kneel slut, you realize you made your Mistress wait don't you?"

"Yes Ma'am, sorry Ma'am"

"Sorry is a start, but I need release. I'll think about your punishment while you see to my needs. Maybe a strap-on session will teach you the meaning of my time. Get up on that bed and on your back. A little face sitting should solve the problem for now.

Spread your arms farther, so I can cuff you. That's it. You look so helpless all naked and spread-eagled. Good thing I want to cum or I'd be teasing you until you were begging.

Just so you're clear, I'm going to be riding your face until you get me off hard. I'm going to kneel with my thighs pressed against your head, your whole world will be pleasing me.

Don't waste your time -- no slow build up. I want it now. Make me cum. My foot is by your hand, tap me three times firmly on the leg if you need me to lift up so you can get a breath.

Get started."

I lowered my moist sex onto his face and could feel his nose and lips grind against me trying to find a comfortable spot -- trying to find a way to breathe. I can feel his tongue slide up into me and hear him begin to lap up my juices. Mmmm if feels good already.

He slides his mouth up a bit so he can circle my already hard clit with his lips. I can feel him flicking it with his tongue. I start sliding back and forth on his face in response, my juices painting his face.

He's struggling to keep his tongue on my clit, so I clamp down firmly on his face now. His helplessness is my power. He has no choice but to please me. He'll need to beg my attention just to get air.

I can feel his tongue furiously stabbing at me. The bridge of his nose is firmly pressed against my clit applying steady pressure. Mmmmm it feels wonderful and I moan to the sensation as I dial up the vibe.

In my mind I can hear the slurping, squelching, sloppy noise of my juices as he sucks them into his mouth and slides across his tongue. He just might drown rather than suffocate underneath my juicy snatch.

I love feeling of his head pressed beneath me. It's such a dominant thing to sit on a persons face demanding pleasure. Their entire world, each breath, reduced to serving you.

Mmmm yesss....my clit is buzzing now, buzzing....I feel the warmth build up inside of me.

I can feel the tapping on my leg and pull up for a couple of seconds, but then right back down....yes, I'm getting close. I'm rocking back and forth now dialing it up all the way, anything to get pressure on my clit. I can feel the vibrations. I imagine his tongue Stabbing, licking, sucking....

Yes, ohh, yes....right there, that's it....all at once the waves crash over me, gentle, peaceful.. Ride it, ride it...ride it one more...

Bliss. Every muscle relaxes and I absorb the glow. My breathing slows. I feel my wetness and it pleases me. So nice, so peaceful.

* * * * *

I awake to the sound of our child crying through the baby monitor. Ugh! 5:15. Morning feeding. Why am I wearing stockings? Who's next to me?

"Do you want me to go get her for you?" my husband asks with a kiss on the cheek.

"You looked so peaceful sleeping there I didn't want to wake you, it looks like I might have missed out on something."

In a flood the night comes back to me and while I have no reason to be embarrassed, I blush anyway, "You didn't miss anything, go get her please."

Propping up pillows and getting situated, I'm soon breast feeding my daughter. The very breasts that ached for pleasure last night are now achingly full of milk that my beautiful, hungry little girl is now taking from me.

I relax and enjoy the sensation which is pleasing on so many levels. It feels good to care for my daughter. I love the closeness, cradling her in my arms. Her tiny mouth pulling hard on my nipple, a tiny hand clutching the breast. A certain relief as the milk lets down. Its pleasure, but not sexual, only a mother could get it. This feels right. It feels natural.

I can also feel my husband nestled in beside me -- my whole little family all safe and together in one place. The mom, the wife, the woman. Taking care of everyone, everyone satisfied, presiding over the bed as a queen. Contentment. A perfect tableaux.

All too soon the bustle of the morning breaks the peacefulness of the dawn. There are schedules to coordinate, bags to pack and everyone needs dressed and groomed.

Hardly time to learn that he didn't get in until nearly midnight.

Barely time to remember that I have a client meeting this morning. Grey skirt suit, white silk blouse, black pumps, sheer stockings -- so very professional on the outside, still horny and gagging for it on the inside.

Everyone thinks I'm taking detailed notes as the regional director gives his presentation.

Really I'm writing some of this story, doing kegels and trying hard not to moan while I think about pleasuring myself last night and what I want to do tonight.

Where's the fast forward? I need the real thing and I need it right now.

* * * * * Neither of us had really said anything, but we were halves of the same whole. He wanted to submit and please, I wanted to dominate. We both wanted to cum. Simple symmetry.

"Report to the bedroom at 9. I'll be waiting."

"Yes my queen. I look forward to serving you."

There was really no need for clothing, but I was getting myself ready anyway. Dressing the role was part of the foreplay and for me anyway, getting ready put me fully into the mood. Dressing for sex seems to be a lost art among most women. This time I probably didn't need it, but it was part of the ritual, part of the thrill.

Tonight I would be the demanding mistress. I wasn't wearing anything complicated, but it was classic sexy. My stockings were sheer and nude except for a bright red back seam with a matching red reinforced heel and toe. Of course the toe and heel wouldn't be immediately evident because I'd be wearing four inch red patent pumps.

My bra was red lace and matched my garter. There were matching panties too, but I chose not to wear them. I wore my pink silk dressing gown while I did my hair and make-up. My bright red lipstick was of a similar shade as my lingerie and stockings. My eyes were shadowed in smoky grey. I thought I looked both sexy and stern.

I chose to leave my hair down rather than pull it back. Lots of basic gold jewelry on my ears, neck, and fingers finished my look. A couple of dashes of my favorite perfume set the pheromones running.

As nine o'clock drew close I perched myself on the bed, legs dangling over the side - my left leg crossed at the knee over the right. It was a classic pin-up pose that would immediately draw his attention. We had started scenes from this position many times. Not knowing the end is what makes each new beginning exciting.

I had been giving myself the occasional rub for hours, all day really. I was very ready. I dared not touch myself again.

My husband knocked promptly at nine and entered on my command and proceeded to kneel before me. He was naked, of course and knew that he should appear before me with his cock caged in his gates of hell chastity device. He did this himself without my instruction. He knew that I owned him and he knew that this pleased me (which it did).

"I am needy my pet. I had plans for you last night, but you let me down."

"I'm sorry my queen, but as you know, there was nothing I could do."

"I know that, which is why you won't be punished. You will be used however. Remind me of when you had your last release."

"It has been 13 days my queen. For my last release you allowed me to masturbate into your worn stockings."

"By my count it's been now 11 days for me, not counting a mechanical one I gave myself last night. I'll need several from you tonight my love, I'm very hungry for attention. You will please me quickly first, then gently second. After that we'll see where things go. Please begin."

I spread my legs wide and he knew what to do, burying his face in my already damp crotch whereupon I closed my legs tightly around his head. The welt of my stockings was pressing against his ears and my nylon sheathed legs and heels slid gently up and down his back. He was locked into position and he was mine. His physical release would come with my sexual release.

He had been well trained in giving me oral and knew just where to put his tongue, when to apply pressure and when to bring his fingers into play. Right from the start he worked at a wonderfully fast pace, a speed he normally built up to over many minutes. I slowly rocked forward and back trying to get as much pressure on my clit as I could.

His tongue darted in and out, up and down, side to side, battering my clit with every move -- sending flares of pleasure across my body and up my spine. His urgency was delightful and expressed his complete commitment to me. Pleasuring me was his whole purpose right now and he wouldn't slow down until I was satisfied.

I loved having him between my legs. Controlling him like this was always pleasing to me but tonight his energy and passion was building a special feeling of dominance inside of me. My body started fizzing with a sexual energy that needed to be released.

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byMarthaD© 7 comments/ 62327 views/ 13 favorites

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