Coming Home

1.

As I enter the studio, I look to the bed and my stomach flutters slightly: some clothes, and a note. I know what this means, and memories of past experiences rise unbidden to just below the surface of my mind.

I've gone to the shops, I'll be back in an hour. I hope you're ready for me when I return.

Pick three.

There's no way to know when you wrote the note. Perhaps I have five minutes to prepare, perhaps almost the full hour. Of course that's deliberate on your part.

I know not to dawdle, but I also know better than to rush. You've left me some juice; I drink it, and use the toilet. I know you don't want me distracted by bodily needs. Well, maybe just one. I use the time running over a list of toys. Pick three, you said. Which three?

Stripping naked, I place my work clothes in the hamper. I'm not hard yet, but there is a drop of precum forming. I resist the urge to stroke; I don't need the distraction.

And so I turn my attention to the clothes you've picked out for me. I recognise this outfit: I picked it out for you a few months ago. More memories stir. How you looked, how you moaned, how you writhed under my hands. Tonight is my turn to writhe.

I start with the panties. Simple black lace ones; you wear them often, but that's okay because they look incredible on you. The last time, I pulled them aside to come inside you. Then you pushed it out and made me lick them clean. As I step into them now, my cock is stiffening slightly; but not so much that I'm stretching them out. I adjust the fit, but really it's just an excuse to stroke myself through the material. So much for resisting. I'm only human.

Next, the stockings. I've never quite gotten the hang of putting these on. You make it look so sensual, but I have to alternate pulling them up and smoothing them out until they reach my thighs. You'd tease me about it, if you were here to watch.

The nipple clamps weren't part of the outfit last time, but I certainly won't complain about their addition. I set them as tightly as they go; I might regret this soon, but you might make me regret it if I didn't. Anyway, they're not too bad. Not yet.

They're shortly covered up by a corset, though fastening it and tightening the lace takes me some time. I don't have trouble breathing at the end, but I do notice it with every breath. I can't help but run my hands over the satin, and my cock twitches.

I forgot to look at the clock when I came in. How long have I been? Five minutes, ten? How much longer do I have?

Now for the heels. With the corset on I have trouble reaching my feet to fasten them. Rather than bending down, I sit on the bed and pull my knees up. You'd tease me for this, too.

Before I continue, I walk to the other side of the bed. I'm unsteady on the heels. I still can't bend, so I have to crouch down to pull out the toy drawer. The deliberateness of my actions gives me a thrill: with everything I do, I'm reminded of my outfit, and of what's to come. I return to the side nearer the door, and place my selections on the bedside table. One of them, I plug in.

These last two items serve an extra purpose. If I tried, I could probably hear you on the stairs. I could get perhaps thirty seconds of warning before you arrived, to get myself in my final position. I could spend my time doing who-knows-what. But no; once I'm fully prepared, all I can do is wait. Wait, and anticipate.

Picking them up, I turn to face the door and take a step forward. I push my hair behind me, so that it falls down my back and not over my shoulders. I pull the hood over my head, which is fully covered except for my mouth. You'll probably be wanting to use that. Blind, I fumble with the handcuffs behind my back, locking myself in. And I wait, and anticipate.

2.

My imagination runs wild.

I don't hear the keys turn, but I hear the door open. I hear you take three steps, you push on my chest, I stagger and fall onto the bed. Did you even close the door? You climb up, straddling my stomach. You move higher, I can feel the hem of your skirt on my upper chest, my neck, my lips. Now you're straddling my head, and you lower yourself down. In my imagination, the weight on my arms isn't uncomfortable and the cuffs don't dig into my back.

I hear the key turning, the door opening, the door closing. A rustle of fabric, you're hanging your coat up. Pad-pad-pad of your feet, moving around the room. Cupboards open, the tap runs, glug-glug-glug of water. You say nothing, so I say nothing. You pad closer, next to me and then past me. A drawer opens, the bed creaks. I want to say something, but daren't make a noise. A soft clicking sound. Click. Click. Click. Are you trimming your nails? I would probably find this absurdity funny, or maybe just boring; but in my imagination, it's sexy.

You remove the hood, and I gasp audibly: you're not alone. Or: your hands on my cock, I feel another pair start to stroke my chest. In my imagination, such things happen.

3.

My imagination pales in comparison.

I don't know how long it's been. My toes and calves ache, but just a little.

I do hear the key turning, the door opening, the door closing. The rustle of fabric. The soft clunk of your shoes as you take them off.

"Hello, slut."

My heart beats faster and my breathing shortens. "Hello, mistress." My voice is weak.

I hear you walk over to me and around me. I imagine you're inspecting my outfit, making sure I dressed properly. You make a full circle, then stop behind me. I startle as your hands brush my shoulders. You push them down, onto my chest. You toy with the neckline of the corset. Your breath lands on my ear, a slow exhalation that makes me shiver.

"I must say, you look very sexy like this. Almost as sexy as I did."

My cock twitches at your approval. "Thank you, mistress."

"If only you could see what I'm wearing now." Images dance through my mind: the red lacy one, the purple strapless one. The maid's outfit and the schoolgirl costume. "I've had nothing else on under my coat." Now I'm imagining the revelation as much as the outfit itself, the moment when you unfasten the belt and pull open the flaps, and "it made me so horny, I just had to play with myself in the bathroom a little." You're talking into my other ear now, and you've removed one hand. "Here, see for yourself."

You place that hand on my lips, and I reach forward to suckle on your fingers. Your juices are sweet, and I moan slightly. Your other hand slides under the corset and tugs gently on the clamp it finds. Pain flares up briefly, and I moan somewhat louder. Both your hands pull away and I hear you move to the side slightly.

Without warning, THWAPP - I gasp, my ass is stinging. "One, mistress." THWAPP, THWAPP. Your panties don't offer much protection. "Three, mistress." You don't say anything to justify this, so it's probably not a punishment. You don't need a reason to hurt me. Anyway, the paddle was one of my selections.

You start to circle me again. I feel a gentle pressure on the corset as one hand trails along my chest, just below my nipples, then passes onto my bare arm, around my back, onto my other arm, around to the front again, slightly below where you started. Another turn around, this time you pause behind me - "four, mistress. Five, mistress" - and continue. Again, and now your hand is low enough to be stroking my panties, you caress my cheeks through the material and I let out a sigh. Coming back in front of me, your hand comes to rest on my cock. I can't resist flexing my pelvic muscles to make it jump slightly, so that it rubs against you through the lace. You don't seem to mind, you rub it gently yourself.

"You seem to be getting my panties all wet," you tell me, with a gentle chide in your voice that I know you don't mean. "Well, we'd better clean them, hadn't we."

"Yes, mistress."

You pull them down and command me to step out of them. I do so carefully, with your help. While you're at it, you take the opportunity to run your hands down my stockinged legs. I feel you raise the panties to my lips and I stick out my tongue to lick them. I can't really taste anything except the fabric, but you want me to clean them and so I lick repeatedly, urgently.

You remove the panties from my reach. "You seem to like that. Well then-" and I feel a tug, you pull on my cock gently and a spasm of pleasure shoots through my body. Just once. Then your finger circles around my tip, and slides up, spreading precum, and I whimper.

You bring that finger to my mouth and for the second time tonight I take you into my mouth. My juices are saltier than yours. Your finger pushes deeper into my mouth and I suck on it harder, in and out as if I were giving a blowjob, humming my pleasure every time I reach the bottom. "Cock-sucking slut", and I hum with pleasure some more. Your other hand strokes my hair, toys with my ear, dances down my chest. You reach under the corset to tug on my nipple again, and I give a moan of pain, but continue to suck on your finger.

Abruptly you pull out, and I'm left breathing heavily, still moaning a little. My freed cock has risen to half-mast, and I'm probably dripping precum on the floor.

"Turn around," you command, and take my shoulders to guide me as I do so. In heels and blindfolded, I can take only small steps. Behind my back, I feel you play with the handcuffs, and my wrists are freed. "Bend forward," and you guide my hands to the bed.

One hand caresses my ass, and then THWAPP-THWAPP-THWAPP, I grunt from the pain and it takes me a moment to count "eight, mistress". Either you're hitting harder or the panties were more protecion than I realised. But you're caressing me again and the sting dissipates.

You step away. My arms and legs are shaking, and if I had to walk anywhere I would probably collapse. I do my best to maintain my position.

I'm rewarded by a cold sensation on my buttcrack, and your finger spreading it down to cover my anus. And then a hard object presses up to me, the second of my selections. I try to relax and push back against it as it slides in. I grunt with pain and you stop, pull it back a little, to give me a chance to adjust. Then you try again, more slowly, and I feel my sphincter close around the neck.

"Step forward", and I stand and take a step towards the bed. "Kneel", and you push down on my shoulder and I drop to my knees and place my hands behind my back. My knees are on a pillow; I don't know when you put it there, but I'm grateful. You walk in front of me, and I can feel the wire from the plug passing around the back of my thigh.

Your hand on the back of my head pulls me forwards, until I can barely keep my balance. The head of my cock brushes gently agaist my left thigh, just above the top of the stocking, leaving a cool wet spot. Even through the hood I can smell the tang of your pussy a moment before I bury myself in it. I snake my tongue out to feel around, searching through your folds to find your clit, and then drawing circles around it. You moan your own pleasure, and I feel a humming in my ass as you switch on the butt plug.

But I can't allow my own pleasure to distract me from yours, and I continue licking and you continue moaning softly. Periodically you thank me: "good slut", or by briefly increasing the vibrations in my ass. That makes me moan, too. You increase the pressure on the back of my head, and I increase the pressure of my tongue, and your moans get louder.

Soon, I recognise the urgency of your moaning and the telltale contractions in your pussy, and I can tell that you're close to orgasm. But you move your hand on my head down, grasp my hair, and pull me back upright. Apparently that's not what you want quite yet. You switch off the vibrations in the plug, too.

I have a moment to take stock, which I imagine you're using to compose yourself. My breath is heavy, and my tongue is sore. My arms are restless. My nipples are burning. My stomach is slightly cramped from bending forwards, and from the bottom of the corset digging into it. The weight on my calves and the awkward position of my ankles is cramping those, too. My ass is stuffed comfortably, and clenching it sends a wave of pleasure through my cock, which is fully erect.

"Up," you command, and I rise awkwardly. Then, "face up on the bed." I take a couple of small steps forwards until I can feel the bed with my hands, and then clamber on. To avoid damaging the sheets with my heels, I roll onto my back and shuffle around with my legs in the air, trying to position myself roughly in the center, with my head on the pillow. Then I lie flat.

You take one arm and raise it above my head, slipping it into the restraint that we leave on the bedpost. Then my legs, handling them more forcefully to fit the loops over my shoes, and then my other arm. When you're done I have only a few inches of give in any of my limbs.

I feel the mattress dip as you put weight onto it, by my feet and then by my waist. I feel your body pressing gently on my cock, pushing it towards my stomach. This particular part of your outfit is smooth and silky, and drapes down to my thighs. You crawl forwards, exciting my cock, drawing moans from me as you do so. As your knees slide against my inner thighs, I can feel that you're wearing stockings. Then your knees climb outwards to grip my waist, and I feel you rise into a kneeling position. My cock is back to almost vertical, but still pressed against you.

You rise up, and come down again, the pressure against my cockhead causing me to whimper. And up, and this time when you come down I'm rubbing against your bare skin, your outfit teasing the tip of my cock and draping down on the other side. And up, and forwards, stroking me with your wet pussy - but then back and down again. One more you rise up and stroke forwards and back, forwards and back, and I whimper more insistently. But instead of lowering onto me you fall forwards, your hands landing at the level of my shoulders. And again you start to crawl forwards.

As your knees reach the top of my corset, and I can just feel them against my armpits, you stop again. You clamber over me, and then back again, to face the other direction, your stockinged toes tickling my armpits. You sit on my chest, and I'm reminded of the nipple clamps as they sting under your weight.

Without warning the plug in my ass begins to vibrate again, causing me to buck under your weight. Your fingertips stroke down my cock, spreading cool precum down its length. And then you introduce my third selection: you press our magic wand to the base of my cock, where it meets my scrotum, and turn it on.

I cry out my pleasure, and buck more wildly than before, and you remove the wand. After a few moments I calm down and you replace it, drawing the same reaction. This time, instead of removing the wand, you start running it up and down my cock, and turn up the power in my ass.

I tug wildly against my bonds, but of course I can hardly move. I can twist my pelvis, but you never let me escape the wand. Between gasps I try to articulate myself clearly: "please may I - ahhh! - cum, mistress?"

You take a moment to answer, your voice infuriatingly airy. "Hm, no, I don't think so. Not just yet."

I start counting in my head, trying to distract myself. I lose count around ten, when you move the wand onto my scrotum and replace it with your free hand, gripping tightly and stroking slowly. Then again when you switch back to gently spreading my precum. And a third time when you remove that hand from my cock and bring it back to my mouth to suckle on. I focus on your fingers between my lips, licking and sucking to keep my attention from the pleasure elsewhere.

When you remove your fingers I try again, more urgently: "please may I come, mistress? - ahhahhahhhh!" And again, "no, not yet", in that voice that makes me struggle to escape and take control, but of course I can't.

"But you've been a very good slut", you're doing this deliberately, "so I'll let you know when you can cum. Soon, okay?" I don't want you punishing me for impoliteness so I gasp out "yes, mistress! Thank you, mistreaaaugh!" You interrupt by increasing the power in my ass another notch.

I try to distract myself again. I curl my toes, feeling the hard soles of my shoes through the thin fabric of my stockings. You fondle my balls, lifting them up with one hand as you press down on them with the wand. I kick my legs up and down, feeling them catch against their bonds and bounce against the bed. You place the wand directly on the tip of my cock. I grip the restraints in my hands and try to collapse the bed inwards. You stroke my shaft deeply and quickly, holding the wand against my perineum.

I don't know how much longer I can hold myself when I feel your weight shift forward. Mercifully, you tell me, "cum for me, slut" and engulf me in your mouth.