A Hood For Her Faceless Meat Dildo

He chuckled weakly. "Honey, you're scaring me a little."

She gave him a knowing smile. "Is that a bad thing?"

"No," he said. "It's fun to be a little scared of you. I'll tell you when I'm not having fun any more. I promise."

She beamed. "Good. Hold still for me now. I want to play with my new dildo."

She stretched her foot out again and put the toe of her shoe right on the bulge in his underwear. He strained to keep still as she toyed with him. Her lingerie, her casual dominance, and the feather-soft touch of her shoe on his cock were pushing all his buttons. He could feel himself falling into some kind of trance, his world narrowing to the sensations in his groin and the delicious little smirk on her face.

He could feel something start to tighten deep inside him. Oh, no, she wouldn't like that. But she had forbidden him to pull away. What could he do? The answer came to him in a flash, astonishing in its audacity. He spoke unprompted, saying, "Miss, I'm getting close."

She pulled her foot away. "How disappointing. We'll have to work on that."

He shuddered with desire at the implications of those simple words. "Yes, miss."

She wrinkled her nose. "Are you soaking through your underwear? Look what you've done to my shoe." It was smeared with pre-come. "Clean this up."

"Yes, miss. Sorry, miss." He looked around.

"What are you looking for?"

"Tissues, miss." He saw them on the end table.

"Tissues?" She raised one elegant eyebrow.

He blanched as her intent became clear. "You want me to lick my pre-come off your shoe?"

Her lips curved into a mocking smile. "I thought you wanted to lick my shoes, little boy. You could hardly wait a moment ago."

He stared at her in horror. She couldn't be serious. If he waited a moment, she'd realize he couldn't do this. Her smile would turn tender and she would lean forward, all softness and concern, to ask, "Too mean?" If only he waited a moment.

Instead, she affected a high, breathless voice. "Please, may I lick them? All over? May I suck the heel?" She rolled her eyes back and panted heavily, letting her tongue loll out of her mouth.

His stomach roiled with disgust. "Please," he begged. "Please don't make me."

"I licked up your come this morning. Come and lube. My first time, you may recall. Did I whine about it? Did I even make a face? Well, did I?"

"No, miss," he said miserably.

"In fact, I made it look sexy. I put on a good show for you."

"Yes, miss."

She cringed, mimicking his pathetic body language. "Please. Please, don't make me." She straightened and demanded, "Is that sexy? Am I aroused?"

"No, miss. I'm sorry. Let me...let me try." He knelt and took her foot into his hands. She was totally right. It was just pre-come. Women did this all the time and smiled doing it. Maybe if he closed his eyes. He bent his head over her shoe and caught a whiff of its smell. He gagged and flung himself back before his gorge rose.

Her lips thinned and flattened. Every line of her body shouted her exasperation. "Okay. I'll sweeten the pot. You lick your goo off my shoe like you've been begging to do all afternoon. And then the night is yours. My shoes. My hands. My pussy. Anything you want."

She reached forward and flicked her foot sideways, slapping his still erect penis. "Come on, you're still hard. Some part of you wants to do this."

It was true. Even as his cheeks burned and his stomach turned, his penis stood proud, ready to go. The little head found this all tremendously exciting.

She offered him her shoe. "Give it another try. Don't over-think this. Just stick your tongue out and lick."

He looked at the smooth leather, now glistening unevenly. He opened his mouth. Then he slumped back onto his heels.

He searched her face for any hint of compassion, sympathy, or mercy. He found none. And why should he? She was multiple months into her project to learn to walk in the kind of shoes he liked. He couldn't even lick up a little come for her. No, it wasn't even come. Pre-come.

His voice thick with shame, he said, "Honey, you have no idea how much I want to do this for you. To be the kind of person who can. Isn't there anything else I can do for you tonight?"

"Option two is you wipe it off with a tissue. And that's the last you get to touch my shoes tonight," she said flatly. "You kneel at my feet while I watch this episode. You look at these gorgeous heels I wore just for you. You think about what could have been. Because, needless to say, option two does not include the happy ending."

He winced at her acerbic tone. "That's fair. That's more than fair. I deserve that."

She cocked her head, frowning. "Honey, take the hood off."

His hands trembled a bit, but he managed it.

She took one look at him and her cold facade crumpled. "Oh. Oh, my love." She glanced down, her hair falling across her face. Quietly, from behind that jet-black curtain, she said, "Option three---and there is always option three---option three is you tell me I'm being too mean. Then I hug you tight and tell you how much I love you over and over until you believe it."

Something loosened in his chest. He let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. "Thank you. I needed to hear that." He swallowed. "You're not being too mean." Mentally, he added, any more. But she didn't need to hear that.

She peeked out from behind her hair. "No? You looked a little...distraught."

"You were magnificent," he said. "Let me get a tissue."

"Is that option two?" she asked, head popping back up in surprise.

"That's option two."

Holding out her left hand palm-up, she said, "On one hand, we have a nice cuddle with your wife. She whispers sweet nothings into your ear." To her right hand, she said, "Or, she leaves you kneeling on the cold wooden floor for an hour."

She pretended to weigh the two, then looked at him in bewilderment. "What the fuck, little boy? Do you not like me or something?"

"I wanted to show you I was serious about wishing I could lick your shoe clean."

A sly smile flickered across her face. "Ah. You want to be punished."

He nodded. "I don't think I ever told you how touching it was that you would eat come for the first time just to mess with me. I mean, kind of twisted, but still. Touching."

She waved her hand dismissively. "I think it was easier for me than it is for you. Let's come back to this punishment idea, though. Here's the thing. I didn't actually want you to pick option two. It's unpleasant for you, and not much fun for me either. I only offered it to make option one more appealing."

"Oh," he said, feeling foolish. "Right. Because from your end option two is just watching an episode in uncomfortable shoes."

"And hardly any clothes. I'm going to get chilly if I sit here for an hour."

"Oh," he said again. "I didn't think of that at all."

She shrugged. "I don't mind when we're playing. I guess the excitement keeps me warm. But, yeah, I'll probably save the lingerie for more active..." She hesitated, groping for the word.

"I think they're usually called scenes. What we're doing."

"Scenes. Thank you. But!" She help up one finger in triumph. "I have a solution that satisfies all the constraints." She patted the couch next to her. "Come sit next to me, little boy."

"You have a solution that satisfies all the constraints?" he teased as he climbed onto the couch. "Is it optimal? What's your objective function?"

She gave him a dirty look. "Maybe right before I punish you is not the best time to make fun of me?"

"It's definitely the best time to make fun of you." He darted in for a quick kiss.

She pushed him away, but she couldn't quite fight back her smile. She reached over to the towel on the end table, flicked it aside to reveal a bottle of lube underneath. "I brought some lube to use with my dildo."

"My punishment is a hand job?" he asked, confused.

"No, your punishment is not being allowed to come." She laughed, soft and low in her throat as her meaning became clear.

"What...what happens if I do?"

"By accident, or because you decided not to play along any more?"

"Um, either, I guess."

"By accident, nothing. I wipe you off and we go to bed. Because you decided to stop playing along? Then I will be very disappointed in you. And we won't play any more."

He flinched. "For how long?"

"Until I forgive you."

He nodded slowly. He pulled the hood back on.

"Good boy. Well, good...dildo, I suppose." She tittered self-consciously. "We'll have to find a better way for me to address you in this state. Anyway." She squirted some lube onto her hand and reached into his underwear.

She had him squirming within seconds, panting a minute later. With her clean hand, she tapped his wrist. "Honey, that's a little tight."

He realized he was squeezing her shoulder in one hand, his knuckles white with the force. He made himself let go.

"I need you to be careful with that, okay? I don't want any awkward bruises to explain. Clench your fist if you can't stop yourself from squeezing whatever's in your hand."

He did.

She returned to his penis. She ran her finger up from root to tip, swirled the head in her palm, then wrapped her fingers around it and went, agonizingly slowly, back down the shaft.

Then she stopped. Let go. Wiped her hand with the towel. Smiled at him and asked, "Was that good?"

He opened his mouth and she put a finger on his lips. "Remember, dildos don't talk. That's not what their mouths are for. Are you enjoying this? You can nod or shake your head."

Slowly, he nodded.

"Good. I want it to be good for you, at first. I want you to know what you're missing." She nibbled his ear, trailed kisses down his neck, then came back up to his ear. "Just think, one quick lick and you would be calling the shots right now. Watch."

She touched the tip of her finger to the head of his penis, pulling away a long, sticky strand of pre-come. Then she put her finger into her own mouth and sucked elaborately, taking her entire finger into her mouth and peering up at him through her lashes.

He moaned in frustrated desire.

She pulled her finger out and shrugged. "See? That's all you had to do. Do you want to see that again?"

He shook his head frantically.

She laughed. "Well, maybe I'll feel like playing with my dildo again in a few minutes. I expect it to wait quietly until it's needed. Nod if you understand."

He nodded.

She nudged his knees apart and draped one of her legs over one of his, letting him feel the toe of her pump against his calf.

"Isn't this nice?"

He nodded.

"Pull the throw off the back of the couch and drape it over the both of us."

He did.

"Put your arm around my shoulders."

He hugged her close in a parody of their usual cuddle.

It was bizarre to sit on their couch, watching the eighth season for the third time, but with a hood over his head, his throbbing erection jutting out of his lap, and this mostly naked, outrageously sexy woman cuddled up against him.

After a few scenes, she paused the video. She tucked the towel under his crotch and grasped his penis again. "Tap my shoulder if you need me to stop."

He nodded. She laid her head on his shoulder. "Start the show for me, honey."

She toyed with him as the episode played. Running her shoe up and down his calf. Nibbling and sucking at his ear and neck. Pausing the show to point at women's shoes and ask if he'd like her to wear something like that for him.

The last one didn't work very well---he wasn't paying attention to the show. His world had narrowed. There was his penis, straining under her ministrations. There was her hand, barely moving and yet stimulating the most unbearable pleasures in him. And there were her dancing eyes, taking such obvious joy in his torment.

He tapped her shoulder with plenty of time to spare. She snatched her hand away. He relaxed, safe for a moment.

She let him watch just long enough to pick up the plot before she reached into his lap again. He tipped his head back, giving up all pretense of watching with her.

He tried to count sheep, forcing himself to imagine their woolly coats and soft baa's, but found his eyes straying to her shoe, not so casually propped up on the coffee table before him.

He turned to multiplying large numbers. That was hopeless: the numbers evaporated faster than he could figure them out.

It was almost a relief when he let himself tap her shoulder again. He sagged against her, panting. Could a man get sore from straining too hard to hold still? He felt like he was going to find out tomorrow morning.

This time, she paused the show. She had to use the back of her wrist, the only part of her hand not covered in pre-come and lube. "Are you holding back on me?" she demanded. "When you edged for me the first time, I could see your whole body tense up as you tried to hold back your orgasm. Now, you're..." she waved in disgust. "Relaxing."

He waggled his head, uncertain whether he should speak.

"You can talk. Asshole."

"I've been playing it safe, a little," he admitted. "I didn't want to disappoint you."

Her nostrils flared. Then she composed herself. Gently, she said, "I won't be mad if you have an honest accident. I want to see you struggle. I want to see you come right up against the edge. Okay?"

"Yes, miss."

This time he didn't try to distract himself. He stared at her face as she started stroking him again. She frowned a little in concentration. Her tongue peeked out from between her lips, small and shockingly pink against her dark lipstick. Her eyes were rapt.

All too soon, he felt the telltale spasm deep in his pelvis. No wonder: she had hardly given him any rest last time. He let it build, until he was panting and squirming, until he was clenching his fist on her shoulder hard enough to feel his nails in his palm, until his hips levitated above the couch.

Finally he let himself tap her shoulder. She snatched her hand away. He shuddered and strained and trembled and somehow fought back his orgasm.

"That's what I wanted to see," she breathed, her face lit up with some kind of savage joy, plainly exulting at her utter control over his most basic functions. "Good boy," she cooed.

She traced one finger around the rim of the head. He immediately tapped her shoulder, flinching away from her hand. She giggled. "If I let you fuck me right now, do you think you'd make it all the way in?" Then she shrugged. "Pity we won't find out."

She touched him again.

"Oh!" he said, and bucked involuntarily.

She poked the side of his shaft.

"Please!" He cringed away from her.

"I'm having fun. Are you having fun?" She touched his balls this time, a feather-soft brush of her fingers.

"I'm so close, mistress, please."

"Mistress! Honey, I'm your wife. Your loving wife, remember?" She put one finger on his knee and ran it slowly up his inner thigh.

He flinched, shying away from her hand before she got to his groin. "No!"

Her giggly demeanor vanished instantly. She grabbed his balls, no longer gentle and teasing. "I wasn't aware that was a word dildos used." Her nostrils flared. "In fact, I'm quite certain it isn't."

That did it. Her abrupt pivot, the silky menace in her voice, her firm grip on his balls, it all combined to push him over the edge. He tapped her shoulder frantically, then wailed, "I'm coming, I'm sorry, I'm coming!"

Her hand tightened on his balls. Not enough to hurt. Just enough to make him horrifically aware how much it could hurt. And she spoke, a low snarl so soft that he strained to hear it and yet so forceful that each word seemed to echo in his ears. "Don't. You. Dare."

And somehow...he didn't. It was as if she had reached down his spine and given her orders directly to his penis.

They both stared expectantly at his penis, waiting for it to spurt. It stood proud and still.

A helpless giggle bubbled out of him. "I think my penis is scared of you," he said.

"As it should be," she said severely. Then she broke into a giddy smile herself. "Wow! Did I scare away your orgasm? I didn't know I could do that."

"I didn't know anyone could do that."

"Do you think..." She reached for it.

He grabbed her hand. "Good grief, woman, quit while you're ahead!"

"Okay, fine. I guess it's going to be hard to top that one." She glanced off into the distance for a moment. When she came back, it was with a fond smile. She pulled the hood off and kissed his nose. "Congratulations, little boy," she announced, "you've redeemed yourself."

"What does that mean?"

"It means you get five minutes to do anything you want with me."

"Really? Anything?"

"Well, remember you have to be married to me afterward."

"So no facials?"

She frowned. "Uh, I don't know how you're going to fit that into five minutes. And it's not really my thing. But it's sweet of you to offer, I guess."

"Honey, a facial is where I come on your face."

"Oh. Yeah, no. I'll kick you in the balls. Repeatedly."

He laughed at her matter-of-fact tone. "Heard. Can I get a blow job?"

"I said that you could do anything you wanted, not that I would do anything you wanted."

"Can I come?"

She smiled a smile that promised nothing good. "You can..."

Of course. "May I come?"

"I'd prefer you didn't," she said. "I was saving you for later." She gave him the most lascivious wink imaginable. It involved her entire face and even her tongue.

"So I can do anything I want with you, as long as it only takes five minutes and I don't come and you don't do anything you don't want to do, which I guess means anything but tease me to tears."

"Don't be dramatic. I haven't made you cry. Yet." She slipped the throw off her shoulders and stretched luxuriously, arching her back and extending both legs. "Really, honey, you can't think of anything you want to do within those constraints? Anything at all?"

He blinked. "Oh," he said. "Oh!"

Her smile was exasperated, but genuine. "Yes, little boy?"

"You're offering me five minutes with your shoes." He beamed at her. "Because I never actually got to do anything but give them a quick kiss when I put them on you." He pulled her into a passionate kiss. "Thank you, honey. That's so thoughtful."

He turned solicitous. "Can I get you anything first? More tea? Your phone?"

"Uh." She looked nonplussed, maybe overwhelmed by the barrage of options he was offering her.

He decided to take charge. "Your tea is cold. Let me make you a fresh pot. Don't move." He grabbed the pot and hurried off. He came back a moment later with her phone. "Here. Water's boiling."

He started to leave again, but then turned back. Squatting down to her eye level on the couch, he cradled her face in both hands. "I am so lucky to be with you. Sometimes..." He glanced away, then locked eyes with her again. "Sometimes things get busy and I forget to say it. You are so kind, and so generous, and so patient with this..." He waved his hand. "This fascination of mine. If there's ever anything I can do for you, no matter how weird or gross it is, I hope you'll ask."

"Right," she said. "Sure."

"Am I making you uncomfortable with all my feelings?"

"Extremely. Please lick my shoes now."

He kissed her again. "I'm going to go check on the tea. Oh, and I can't remember if I ever wiped my pre-come off your shoe. I'll bring a wet washcloth." He left her.

He came back with the washcloth and the teapot. "Tea needs a minute more. It was the right shoe, I think?"

"I genuinely cannot remember."

"Yeah, it was. You prefer your right foot for touching me."

"If you say so."

He knelt and carefully wiped her shoe, then, unable to resist, dropped a quick kiss on the very toe before popping back up. "How's the tea?" He lifted the lid and sniffed. "Getting there. Oh, you must be cold." He adjusted the throw around her shoulders, then handed her a mug of peppermint tea.