Dethroned Dominatrix

The dominatrix was not happy to see him.

"You're early," she said, glaring at him through narrowed eyes.

"Oh, uh...just a few minutes, right?" He ran his hand through his hair and tried to offer a charming smile.

He failed.

"Four minutes, to be precise."

"I just...I really hate being late," he said.

"I hate tardiness too," she said, her face hard and unyielding as a wall of rock. "But you can be not late without being early. It's called being on time. Your appointment was at 4, not 3:56."

"Well, if this conversation goes on much longer, I won't be early any more," he said, trying another smile.

She showed no hint of amusement.

"I'm charging you for an extra half an hour. Understand?"

"Uh...I guess?"

She grabbed his shirt and pulled him in through the doorway. Her dungeon was massive and cavernous and lit from above by a battery of harsh fluorescent lights, more a warehouse than a play space. He looked around and marveled at the sheer number of toys and implements she had hung on the wall. His mind ran with the possibilities.

He was brought out of his head by a sharp slap on his cheek. He raised his hand to rub the spot she had slapped him - he could feel it turning red already.

"That's for the backtalk. Now strip, drop to your knees and put your hands behind your head."

"That's...uh, that's kind of sudden, isn't it?"

She smirked.

"You're the one paying $500 an hour," she said. "You should thank me for cutting out the small talk."

It was a good point. He stripped off his clothes, carefully folding them and setting them to the side. He blushed and turned away as he pulled off his jeans - the dominatrix had been staring intently at him throughout, a small, knowing smile on her face, openly assessing him as though he was being displayed at a market.

He drew out the process as long as possible, but it wasn't long before he was naked. He moved to hide his growing cock with his hands, but stopped, knowing she wouldn't let him. He gulped, then slowly dropped to his knees and placed his hands behind his head.

It was cold in her dungeon, and his nipples hardened immediately, but his cock was immune to the temperature - he was uncomfortably hard.

The dominatrix stood over him, illuminated by the overhead lights. She was short, but formidable, and she towered over him as he knelt. She had soft green eyes fired with passion, and her shoulder-length blond hair was set off nicely by the tight black leather she wore. It zipped up the front, but she had left the zipper halfway down, drawing attention to a pair of massive breasts straining against the tight material.

"My name is Mistress Faith," she said, stepping behind him and running a finger across the back of his neck. "That's how you will refer to me. Do you understand?"

"Yes...yes, Mistress Faith," he said.

"Good boy."

He blushed at that. She circled him, appraising him, looking over every inch of him. He was intensely aware of his flaws - of the love handles and the mole on his hip, all sharply displayed by the harsh overhead lights.

"I've looked over your want-tos and your limits," she said, an almost professorial tone to her voice. "Ambitious. But nothing I can't work with - I like ambitious."

Mistress Faith smiled down at the man, and he found himself blushing under her eyes. Then her eyebrows shot up as though a thought had suddenly occurred to her and she pulled a phone from the pocket of her leather.

"Oh! I nearly forgot: who referred you to me?"

"Paul, I guess," the man said, thrown off balance by the sudden shift in tone.

"'Paul' who? I have a few Pauls."

"I...uh, I'm sorry, Mistress Faith," he said. "I didn't want to -"

"Give a full name?" She sounded amused. "I appreciate your discretion, but we're alone here. Names never go beyond these walls."

"Paul Phillipson, then."

The dominatrix smiled, nodded and tapped her phone's screen for a few minutes. She laid it aside when she was done.

"Paul and his wife - wonderful couple," she said. "So attractive together. I have a referral program here, so Mr. and Mrs. Phillipson will be getting themselves a nice little reward next time they come in."

Then the smile disappeared and the man found himself again under her withering stare.

She knelt in front of him and grasped one of his nipples, squeezing it. He gasped and she smiled.

"You're self-conscious," she said. It wasn't a question. She leaned in and whispered in his ear. "But you shouldn't be, darling. Oh, you shouldn't be."

"Thank you, Mistress Faith."

She reached down and grabbed his cock.

"Up."

She didn't wait for a response - she merely pulled him to his feet by his cock. She kept a tight grip on him and walked him a few feet to a large bench that reminded him of a pommel horse. Mistress Faith gestured at it impatiently, and without another word the man straddled the bench, then laid down on his stomach.

The dominatrix moved quickly, her experienced fingers moving nimbly to secure straps over his legs and upper back. Then she secured his hands to the front of the bench with hard leather cuffs.

Mistress Faith ran a fingernail down the man's spine, and he shivered against his restraints. She laughed, and the sound was enough to make him shudder again.

"Oh, don't worry," she said, her voice a purr. "We're going to have so much fun today. Starting right now."

He felt her step away, and though she was gone for only a moment, it felt longer, weighted with portent.

His concerns were swept away when he heard a whishing sound, and then felt a sharp, excruciating pain lash his ass. He yelped in response.

"Oh, so you've never been caned," she said, holding back laughter. "I love being someone's first."

And so she caned him with the passion of someone doing what she loved, crossing his ass with blows from the tool he had immediately grown to hate. He could feel ugly red welts being raised in thin lines across the flesh of his ass, and he imagined the pain of sitting at his desk the next day.

He had tried to remain stoic and silent, but that determination lasted for three lashes or so. On the fourth, he cried out in pain, and after that he was simply screaming, tears streaming down his face as the cane seared him with lashing agony.

The man had long since lost count of the blows when Mistress Faith finally stopped beating him. He had become intensely aware of the environment - of the dominatrix's heavy breathing, of the hair plastered to his forehead by sweat, of the flickering and buzzing of the overhead lights and of the uncomfortable feeling of his rock hard cock being pressed into the bench by his own weight.

She ran a gentle hand through his hair.

"Such a good boy," she said in a soothing tone of voice. "Such a very good boy. You took that so well. I think you deserve a treat. Would you like a treat?"

The man nodded. Her grip tightened on his hair.

"Say it."

"Yes, I would like a treat, Mistress Faith," he said, taking a deep breath.

She patted him on the head, then turned to his restraints. She removed them as quickly as she had applied them, freeing his hands last.

"Up."

He rolled off the bench and stood up, a little unsteady on his legs, hands resting by his side. Mistress Faith reached down and grabbed his cock again. She smirked.

"Well, I think we can put caning on your list of kinks," she said. "Now come."

She led him by his cock again, this time walking him over to a massive round table made of light-colored wood.

"Mind the step," she said.

The man looked down in time to avoid stubbing his toe on a wrestling mat. There were a ring of them surrounding the table. He looked at Mistress Faith with bemusement.

"People have been known to fall off the table," she said. "Best to be prepared. Now - up. On your back. Arms and legs spread."

He complied without a word, rolling onto the table, trying to find a comfortable position on the smooth wood. He spread his legs as far as they could go and laid out his arms in a t-shape.

Mistress Faith flitted around the table, wrapping a thin, coarse rope around his ankles and wrists. She pulled each length of rope down over the edge of the table and tied them down. His arms and legs were stretched nearly to the breaking point, but he could feel some slack in the rope. The knots weren't as tight as they could be.

The man didn't have much time to think about it, however, as Mistress Faith clambered onto the table and straddled his chest. She leaned back and looked at him, her eyes glowing.

"You're a breast man, aren't you?"

The man gulped and nodded.

"Yeah, I could tell," she said, reaching behind her to give his cock a squeeze. "I might suspect that's why you chose me. You know, if I was the paranoid sort."

She winked at him, then moved to slowly unzip her leather outfit. She pulled back its two sides, and her breasts dropped free. The man couldn't stop himself from licking his lips - her breasts were even larger than he thought, huge and round with large nipples that were noticeably hard.

Mistress Faith reached into a pocket and pulled out a small black ring, showing it to the man.

"To keep you hard."

She nimbly spun around to face his cock. The dominatrix blocked the man's view, but he felt her sliding the ring over him, then a strong pinching sensation as she squeezed his balls through. He gasped at the pressure as the ring imprisoned his cock.

He could see her reach into another pocket. She pulled out a small canister and held it over her shoulder so he could see it.

"To keep you numb."

He felt her rub something on the head of his cock, then spread it down his shaft, and then he felt nothing.

She reached into her pocket one more time and the man held his breath. But then she held up a condom.

"To keep us safe."

The numbing cream had done its work well, and he could barely feel it as she stretched the condom over his hard cock.

"And there we go," she said, turning around to face him as she pulled off the last of her leather and tossed it aside. "My human dildo."

She shifted back and settled onto his cock - it slid easily into her soaking wet pussy. She gave a small sigh of contentment and looked down at him with a smile.

Then the smile was gone, and she was fucking him.

That was the only way to describe it. With his limbs bound he had no say over the pace - and Mistress Faith's pace was fast, rough and relentless. She rode his trapped, numbed cock and treated him exactly as she said she would - as a human dildo. She screamed and shrieked and shouted like a banshee - soundproofing was obviously an important feature for a dungeon.

She came easily and often, and he almost immediately lost track of her orgasms, which rocked her into gibbering incoherence every time. Her hands were all over him, digging gouges into his chest with her nails, squeezing his throat with her fingers and choking him until he was left gasping when she released him, pulling his hair, yanking his face into her breasts and forcing him to lick and suck her nipples.

She was lost to him - he was barely there at all, so far as she was concerned, so Mistress Faith didn't notice the man testing his bonds. He was right - the knots were loose. She had been sloppy in tying them, and he was able to work a little more slack into his arms and legs.

And then the knots broke and he was free, but he didn't move. She was close again, he could tell. Her fingers were wrapped around his neck and she was squeezing hard, but her eyelids fluttered and she had gone quiet.

Then the orgasm was on her and she shook, the usual stream of nonsense obscenities flowing from her. It was what he was waiting for.

He brought his hands up and grabbed her, one hand wrapped in her hair, another around her waist. The dominatrix cried out in shock, but before she could react he was rolling them off the table and onto a padded section of the floor.

They hit the mat hard, but the man held his grip. He hauled her to his feet and grabbed her right hand - the one she had used to cane him - and yanked it behind her. She thrashed and fought, but he was eight or nine inches taller than her and out-weighed her by more than he cared to think, and he was able to manhandle her away from the table.

She shook her head and he lost his grip on her hair. He tried to wrap his arm around her neck, but she ducked her chin and bit his wrist, causing him to howl in pain.

But his size was too much for her, and in fits and starts he hauled her across the dungeon to a large wooden x-frame that was set against the far wall and painted red.

She saw where he was taking her and her eyes widened.

"No! No! Don't you fucking dare you fucking -"

He said nothing, only shoved her the remaining few feet into the X. She turned around to fight him, but he was on her too quickly and pinned her body against the X.

She raised her right hand to scratch his face, but he caught her by the wrist and slammed it back against one of the diagonal bars that made up the X. There was a leather strap, and he was able to close it across her right wrist before she could move it away.

"Let me go right fucking now -"

He slapped her across the same cheek where she had struck him, and though he hadn't hit her hard, the indignity of it stunned her. He used her surprise to seize her left wrist and strap it onto the other side of the X.

He knelt and tried to grab her left leg, but she kicked in the chest and knocked him back. He looked up at her, admiring her heaving chest in spite of himself. Her blond hair was plastered across her face, and she was breathing heavily. Her green eyes were hot with anger.

"Stop this now and I'll forget all about it. You can go and that will be that."

He got to his feet and smirked at her.

"No," he said. "No, I don't think so."

She screamed at him and wildly swung her feet in his direction, but he was out of range. He looked around at the walls and found what he was looking for. He stepped into the shadows and emerged holding a small black flogger with a braided handle and a dozen tails.

He walked around to her right, careful to stay away from her legs. He held the flogger in front of her face and smiled at her.

"I have to give you this - you had me pegged," he said. "I am a total breast man. Want to see how much of one I really am?"

She shook her head wildly, but he flicked his wrist and connected with her breasts, which certainly presented a large enough target. She yelped, perhaps more in surprise than in pain.

"Oh, come on, I barely touched you there," he said, a mocking tone in his voice. "How long has it been since you've been flogged, Mistress?"

Her only response was a snarl. He shrugged and flicked the tails of the flogger across her chest again.

She bit her lip and bucked against the leather straps, but they held firm.

"Now, let's see just how much you can take," the man said.

He flogged her breasts relentlessly, focusing a series of blows first on one, then on the other, flicking his wrist until he found a perfect rhythm and pace that let him strike her with precision accuracy. She was mostly quiet at first, but when the man targeted her nipples she started to audibly whimper.

He stepped back to admire the angry crimson color rising on her breasts. They heaved up and down with every one of her panicked breaths. She turned her head and looked at him with pleading eyes.

The man set down the flogger and stepped closer to her bound body. He ran his hand across her breasts, and she winced when his fingers brushed her nipple. Then his hand was roaming down her stomach and finding its way between her legs.

Her pussy was soaking wet.

He held his fingers, glistening with her arousal, in front of her.

"Tsk tsk," he said. "Looks like you rather enjoyed that, Mistress Faith."

She gritted her teeth and refused to look at him. He slid his hand back between her thighs and slipped a finger inside her.

She gasped, and he responded by running his thumb over her clit. She shivered in her bonds and bit her lip.

The man slid a second finger inside her pussy and began fucking her with them, curling his fingers inside her and making a "come here" motion. Mistress Faith moaned loudly and her eyelids began to flutter.

"I know that look," he whispered into her ear. "Do you want to cum? Because you can. I can make you cum right now."

She opened her eyes and looked at him warily.

"All you have to do is ask permission."

"Fuck you," she said and spit on him.

Shaking his head, he pulled his fingers from her pussy, and noted with satisfaction her sigh of disappointment. He looked back at the table where she had fucked him and noticed the discarded ropes.

"You know," he said, walking away. "I think I need to spend a little more time with those lovely breasts of yours."

When he came back he was holding the four lengths of rope she had used to tie him to the table. She was thrashing against her bonds, trying to force herself loose from the X-frame, but the leather straps held tight.

He held the rope in front of her face, dodging when she tried to kick him again.

"Gotta say, this is some harsh rope, Mistress. So coarse, so rough. I'm going to have marks on my wrists for days. I wonder how they'll feel on your breasts?"

"No! Put it down, please!"

He ignored her and stepped to the side, away from her legs. He took her right breast firmly in his hand and lifted it up, squeezing it enough to elicit a small gasp from the dominatrix. He started wrapping the rope around her breast, appreciating how it looked against the bright red flush the flogging had brought to her chest.

"Now, I'm not a professional like you," he said, wrapping the rope around her breast a second time. "I can't do any fancy ties. I guess I'll just have to practice a little more. But until then, we'll have to keep it pretty simple."

He used up the last of the rope, tying it off in a simple knot along the bottom of her massive breast. He stepped back to appreciate the aesthetic - her breast bulged against the rope, squeezed hard by its coarse fibers.

Mistress Faith was breathing hard, quick, shallow breaths that betrayed an utter lack of control. The man was not surprised when he stepped forward, slid his hand between her legs and found her dripping wet again.

He threw subtlety out the window and went straight for her clit, his fingers finding it easily and manipulating it with dexterity. She moaned loudly, and he continued until her eyelids started fluttering again.

"You're close," he whispered into her ear. "I know you are. I know you want to cum. Just ask."

She looked at him for a long moment, something like pleading in her eyes. And then she shook her head and looked the other way.

"Have it your way," he said, withdrawing his fingers again. She whimpered in frustration.

He picked up another length of rope and held it up. The dominatrix cried out and dropped her head.

The man stepped around to her left side and took her other breast in his hand. He wrapped the rope around it, making sure he tied it as tightly as possible.

When he was done, he stepped back one more time. Her huge breasts bulged, wrapped tightly in the coarse rope she had used on him. She was gasping now, her bright green eyes were wide open and staring at the man with what he was sure was lust.

The man walked over to a hook on the wall and pulled down the glimmering white toy he found there. He held it out in front of her, almost dangling it before her eyes.

"I noticed this when I came in - well, when you pulled me in," he said. "'Magic Wand' it's called, right? Let's see how magical it is."

He placed the toy between her legs. She uttered no protest.

He flipped the toy to its lowest setting and placed it against her clit. Already primed to arousal, she immediately began convulsing against the bonds and her eyelids fluttered.