A Hood For Her Faceless Meat Dildo

"Oh, yeah, sometimes this lacy stuff can be scratchy."

She got a glint in her eye. "We should try it on."

"That's a good idea." He reached for it.

She raised an eyebrow, waiting for him to figure it out.

"Should I take my clothes off first?"

"I think that would be...appropriate. Don't you?"

He smiled. "Yes, miss." He had already kicked off his shoes when he came in. Now he took off his shirt and pants.

Somehow, he knew not to reach for the hood again. Instead, he knelt in front of her.

She pulled it over his head, taking her time to smooth it against his face.

"How's that?" she asked softly.

He found the mesh hardly interfered with his sight at all. Like peering through a window screen, he supposed. He felt his eyelashes brush against it. It pressed a little on his nose. "It's fine," he said.

"Try turning it around so the mouth hole is behind you."

That was a little awkward. He tried at first to grip it down around the neck, but it merely stretched and twisted, the top half staying in place. He started to pull it off.

"No," she said. "I don't want you to take it off in between. Try turning it on your head."

He found that if he pinched the mesh near his temples and pulled it away from himself he could get the whole thing to rotate on his head. Luckily, he wore his hair buzzed short now, or the hood would have drawn it right across his face.

She helped him smooth it out again, her fingers light on his skin.

Well, on the mesh, he supposed. It was so insubstantial he could feel her touch right through it.

"How do I look?" he asked.

She nodded approvingly. "Very pretty. It does something odd to my brain, though. It's almost like I can't recognize this as your head any more. You just have this lacy lump sticking out of your shoulders."

She looked at him a moment longer, her hands resting on his shoulders. "Okay," she said briskly, "let's turn this around again."

"Again?"

She gave him that wicked smile. "Won't you want your mouth for when you put my shoes on me?"

They turned the hood around. This time he turned the neck while she pinched at his temples and they did it in one smooth motion.

"Get my shoes, honey."

He usually gave each one a quick kiss, but this time she kept her shoe pressed to his lips and he licked it thoroughly, taking the heel into his mouth.

Finally, she pulled her shoe out of his mouth. "All right, stop slobbering over my shoes and go make me dinner."

He started to pull the hood off.

"No, wear it." At his hesitation, she stroked one foot up his leg enticingly.

"I think people used to get pretty bad burns from synthetic veils melting onto their faces."

"Oh." She jerked her foot off his leg as if burned herself.

"Not that I light my face on fire that often while cooking dinner, but..."

"No, no, I didn't know." She gestured apologetically at her foot. "I wouldn't have..."

"I know. I can put it back on when I take your shoes off," he offered.

"I'd like that." She gave him that coy smile. "I'll think about you while I'm practicing."

Which was of course enough to ensure he thought about her constantly as he cooked.

She clicked into the kitchen after a few minutes. "Honey?"

"Yeah?" He kept dicing the onion.

"Put the knife down."

He did, turning to look at her. "What's up?"

She had his belt coiled up in her hands. She fiddled with it a moment before meeting his eyes. "I brought you your belt."

He nodded, uncertain where this was going.

"Do you think, when you're done, you could put it on for me?"

It took him a moment to realize she didn't mean around his waist. Or with his pants. He swallowed, though his mouth was dry. "Yes, miss."

A slow smile spread across her face. She took a step closer. He flinched and tried to step backward. The counter didn't let him.

Her smile widened and took on a distinctly predatory edge. "And make sure you put the hood on with the mouth hole in front."

"Yes, miss." He desperately covered his crotch with his hands. Why? He didn't know. She clearly meant to arouse him.

She tugged his wrists apart. Stepped right between his legs. Pressed herself against him from ankle to breast. The height difference put his cock right into her soft, warm belly.

"You're so tense," she commented, stroking his arms. She wrapped them around herself, putting one hand on her pert bottom. "Hold me like you like me. You do like me, don't you?"

"Yes, miss."

"I wanted to ask a favor of you," she breathed, rising up onto her toes to whisper into his ear.

His raging erection slid along her front until her pubic bone pressed into it. He moaned helplessly at the stimulation. "Anything," he gasped.

"When dinner's ready tonight, I don't want you to call for me like you usually do. I want you to come into the living room and get me."

"Of course," he croaked. "Was that all?"

"Well, no. You see, when you come, I would find it extremely arousing if you were on your hands and knees. Maybe you'd like that too?"

"Yes!"

She shot him a look.

"I mean, yes, miss, I would."

"With the end of your leash in your mouth?"

He swallowed. He couldn't speak. He nodded.

"You're such a dear, playing along with these little games of mine. I'll try to make it worth your trouble." She gave him a peck on the cheek and put an extra sway into her step as she left, throwing a glance back over her shoulder to confirm that he was watching, slack-jawed and painfully erect.

He made himself chop slowly, afraid of cutting himself in his distraction. It was extra awkward because he had to stand farther from the counter to allow space for his erection. And then the cooking seemed to take forever, even with the gas at full throttle.

Finally, he put the dishes onto the table. By supreme force of will, he made himself wash the pot and the cutting board. He emptied the sink strainer, rinsed the sink, emptied the sink strainer again. He wiped down the counter and swept the floor.

Then he pulled the hood on. He buckled the belt around his neck, inside out so it wouldn't tighten when she pulled. He stuck the end of the belt into his mouth. And he crawled out to look for her.

He saw her legs first, draped over the end of the couch. She'd kept her shoes on. The heels cast long, stark shadows across the floor in the low-angled sunlight.

He stared, transfixed, drinking in the details. The turn of her ankle. The gleam of the sunlight on the leather. The micro-texture of the pantyhose---how had he not noticed that she'd worn pantyhose today?

As he watched, she stretched luxuriously, crossing her legs the other way. One foot flexed, then pointed, then flexed again, until her foot popped out of the heel and it dangled from her toes. She swirled it around idly a few times before using her other foot to push the shoe back on.

He was starting to realize that he wasn't the only one putting some after-hours thought into these games of theirs.

He wanted to fix this moment into his mind forever. After a moment's indecision, he got his telephone and photographed it. He could always delete them if she asked.

Then he crawled to her. He wanted to kiss her foot, but he still had the belt in his mouth. He settled for crawling around to the front of the couch into her field of view.

She put her e-reader aside and sat up, looking down at him.

She giggled.

He spat out the belt. "What?"

"You look like a baby with a pacifier." She held her hand out for the leash and he handed it to her. "I expected you to put it into your mouth sideways," she said, showing him. "Not end-on."

Oh. "I don't have a lot of experience with this," he said, a trifle defensively. Laughter was not the reaction he had hoped to provoke.

She smiled at him, humor turning into fondness. "No, we're really exploring, aren't we?"

They reflected on that for a companionable moment before she tugged more firmly on the leash. "Someone was slow today."

"Someone was distracting today."

"Hmm. Well, I've been done for ages, just pretending to read while I thought about all the things I was going to do with my faceless meat dildo this weekend." She definitely emphasized it this time. "Now I'm all hot and bothered." She stretched elaborately, arching her back. Her extended foot stroked up his thigh again.

"Does someone need some attention before dinner?" He slid one hand up her leg to her knee.

"Maybe a little would be nice." She drew him under her skirt, where he was shocked to discover that her pantyhose were actually stockings and furthermore that she had no underwear on.

He popped out. "How long...?"

"Relax, you prude. You were not parading a bottomless woman through the park. I took them off while I was waiting for you. Now get back in there." She pulled him under her skirt and draped her legs over his shoulders as if to keep him there. "Oh, yeah, that's better. Isn't that a better use for that mouth of yours? If only there were a way to keep you from talking, but still have your tongue accessible. Look into it for me, would you, honey?"

"Yes, miss," he mumbled.

She giggled. "I guess I'm a pretty good gag. Maybe next time you start mouthing off I'll just sit on your face. Ooh, yeah, there. Right there. Harder. Oh, honey, you're so good at this."

She pushed him away after a few minutes. "That's enough."

"Did you come already?"

"Hmm?" She had a slightly slack expression on her face. "No. It's nice even if I don't come. Now give me a minute to recover before dinner. You can kiss my shoes if you want. Shall I drape them back over the arm of the couch?"

"Yes, please!"

He wasn't sure how long she let him enjoy her pumps before she gently pushed his face away with one foot. "All right, little boy, take that hood off."

He pulled it off obediently, a little disappointed that it was ending so soon.

She must have seen it on his face. "We can play more later, honey. But I didn't marry you so I could eat alone. Come have dinner with me."

"Sorry, I got a little carried away. Of course we'll have dinner together."

She picked up his leash. "Would you like to crawl to the dining room?"

"Um, it might be easier if I got dressed. Let myself calm down a little."

"That makes sense. Should I take off the heels?"

He thought about it. "Yeah, maybe."

"And should you wash your face?"

He realized he could still taste her. "Yeah, good idea," he mumbled.

"Are you blushing?" she asked, fascinated. "Washing your face is the part that makes you blush?"

"Shut up," he groaned.

She shook her head. "Men are weird."

"Shut up!" He pushed past her.

"Men are fucking weird!" she shouted after him.

Dinner was oddly strained. She sat in her usual place across from him. He had never before noticed how easily that let him peek down her shirt. Or how much cleavage she had. He was pretty sure she'd worn this blouse many times before. She never buttoned it up all the way. But did she usually button it up more than this?

He was hyper-aware of her every movement. Sometimes she reached across the table and he could barely stop himself from flinching. Sometimes their feet touched under the table and his penis would rear its unwelcome head.

It didn't help that he thought he could still smell her between bites.

She too seemed a little distracted, prone to trailing off mid-sentence and glancing away with a small smile.

They flitted from topic to topic, unusually unable to find anything that held their interest.

Finally, she said, "Do you want to talk about it?"

They both knew what it was.

He couldn't keep the relief out of his voice. "Yeah, do you?"

"It'd be nice to hear how it went for you. Highs, lows, whatever." She shrugged as if it didn't matter.

Something about it caught his attention. He cocked his head. "Honey. Are you running a post-mortem on our sex?"

She turned away, but the dimple in her cheek betrayed her smile. "Is that weird?"

"Weird? Yes. Surprising? No. Not from you." A thought struck him. "This probably isn't even the first time, is it? Only the first time I've figured it out."

She looked smug and said nothing.

"Okay, fine, keep your secrets." He raised his hands in surrender. "I'm remembering how you suddenly insisted we move the furniture last week. Was it so you could get the sun onto your legs today at exactly the right angle? Have you been planning that little tableau since last week?"

"Did it seem forced?" She flashed him a practiced smile, shrugging as if she didn't care.

"It literally stopped me in my tracks," he told her, and was rewarded with a real smile. "Actually, uh, I hope you don't mind, but I took a picture. I can delete it if you want."

Their phones were stacked on the table, a gentle reminder to have dinner with each other. Now he took his back and showed her.

"Kind of artsy," she said.

"Yeah, I like those stark shadows on the floor. It might look good black and white and cropped just to the shadows."

"So you need a minute to figure out what's going on?"

"Exactly."

"Yeah, I like photos like that." She paused. "It'd be for yourself?"

"Of course!" he said, stung.

"You going to jerk off to it?"

He felt his cheeks warm. "Not if you don't want me to."

She shook her head slowly. "No, I'm okay with that. I'd like it, in a way. To be in your mind even when I'm not around. Go ahead. Keep the photo, I mean. Up to you whether you jerk off to it."

He resisted the obvious rejoinder. He said only, "Thank you."

"So, would you be okay..."

"No," he said immediately. "Sorry, I know it's unfair."

"No, it's fine."

"It's not because I don't trust you."

"I get it. It's nice, actually."

"That I don't want you to take pictures of me?"

"That you told me you didn't want to do something. Same with wearing the hood while you cooked. You don't do it very much." She changed the subject before he could reply. "New topic. We have some things we have to do this weekend. Not those things. I mean like we have plans on Sunday and you probably have a ride on Saturday?"

"Oh, yeah, but we're only going 40 miles. I'll be back by ten, ten-thirty."

"Right, so how do we schedule all the other things we want to do?"

"I see what you mean." He pulled up their shared calendar and started adding events. He looked at her. "Sorry, is this too unromantic?"

"Unromantic is still having you under my skirt when they call on Sunday."

"Fair." He showed her his phone. "I think that's everything?"

She took it. "So we've got a good block on Saturday starting late afternoon, whenever you finish your meal prep. Other bits and bobs scattered around, but I don't want to be interrupted all the time."

"Yeah, not getting interrupted would be nice. I was really excited about getting trotted out for your use on demand, but it's a little weird being normal around you right afterward."

"To be crawling on a leash one minute and sitting next to me the next? I can see that. Well, I still want dinner with my husband, so let's start after dinner on Saturday."

"It's a date." He took her hand and she squeezed back, smiling. "Speaking of after dinner, I can't help but notice we don't have anything for the rest of the night..."

"Yeah? What does my little boy want to do?"

"How about we watch an episode?" he suggested.

"Netflix and chill?" she asked. Was her tone a little wry?

"With your heels in my lap."

"Oh-ho!" she said. "Wouldn't you like that?"

"You know I would. And maybe it would feel like less of a burden to you. I know the heels are more my thing than yours."

"Oh."

"What?"

"Ugh, I was making fun of you and it turned out you were being kind and thoughtful."

"Wow, so inconsiderate of me!"

"Really is. Spoil my fun, why don't you?" She dipped her fingers into her water glass and flicked them at him.

"Want to make it up to me?"

She flicked more water at him.

"Okay, okay." He stood. "Are you done?"

"Yeah."

She helped him carry the leftovers into the kitchen, then took a wet rag back to wipe the table while he packaged the leftovers and loaded the dishwasher.

"Hey, guess what I just did?" he called out in that particular voice he reserved for only one subject.

She sighed. "Did you fill the dishwasher?"

"I did! Guess what I get to do now?"

"Be a total dork?"

"Run the dishwasher!"

"You are a strange little man, and I'm not even talking about the shoe thing." She bumped him aside with her hip, throwing her weight into it to make him stagger. He slapped her butt as she passed.

"Living room or bedroom?" he asked.

"On the couch," she said over her shoulder. "I'll be there in a minute." But a second later she stuck her head back in. "Honey?"

"Yeah?"

She bit her lip. "It was nice to have dinner with my husband. But I think I want to watch an episode with my faceless meat dildo."

He gave her a huge smile. "I'll bring it out for you, miss."

"Good boy."

He set up the coffee table with her laptop and its charger, and a pot of peppermint tea, and two cups. Then he stripped down to his underwear, put the hood on, and knelt by the couch to wait.

"Are you ready for me?" she called around the corner.

"Yes, miss!"

She had taken her dress off and put on a pair of panties. They were lacy and black, of a set with her bra and her garter belt. Clearly premeditated. In one hand, she had a wadded-up hand towel. In the other, she had the shoes that had started all this. 130mm stilettos. No platform. Gleaming black leather.

She cocked a hip, threw him a sultry look, then sighed. "I wish I could see the look on your face."

"Do you want the hood off? It's okay."

"No, not yet. Let's try this. I'll just imagine a concussed turtle."

He laughed. "Close enough, probably."

"I thought so." She sashayed toward him with an exaggerated sway, set the towel on the end table, waved the heels in front of his face. "You looking forward to putting these on me?"

"Yes, miss."

"And then what do you want to do?"

"Please, miss, may I kiss them?"

"Is that all?"

"May I lick them? All over? May I suck the heels?"

She favored him with her little half-smile that suggested everything and promised nothing. "I'll think about it." She set the shoes on the coffee table.

He cringed.

"What?"

"Nothing, miss."

"Bullshit. You clearly tensed up all of a sudden."

"I know you've never worn them outside but still..."

"You don't like them on the table?"

"I'm sorry. It bothers me."

She picked them up again. "All better now, little boy?"

He relaxed. "Yes, miss. Thank you. I'm sorry to ruin the mood."

"Hush. You didn't ruin anything." She sat down and crossed her legs, dangling one foot in front of him.

He kissed her foot, slipped the shoe on, kissed it again. She switched feet before he could do more than that. He repeated it for the other foot.

She set both feet on the ground, demurely tucking one behind the other ankle. "I don't seem to have any tea."

"Yes, miss. I'm sorry, miss." He climbed to his feet. Standing above her felt strange. How quickly he got used to being on his knees in front of her! He poured her tea quickly, then stood awkwardly.

She sipped her tea loudly, shooting him a mischievous look over the top of the mug but otherwise ignoring him. The message was clear: she would call for him when she was ready.

He fidgeted, somehow both unbelievably aroused and also a little bored as the minutes stretched on.

At last, she extended one foot. He fell to his knees eagerly, only to watch in dismay as she jerked her foot back.

She stared at him, lips pressed flat, until he scrambled back to his feet. "Sorry, miss," he mumbled. "The dildo has not been adequately trained."

"Trained..." she breathed, giving him a wide-eyed look as if a whole new world had opened up before her.