Friday Night

On top of the bed, there are clothes laid out for me. A black t-shirt and black boxers. The boxers are like the ones I used to wear with one huge difference: the size. They are two sizes down and it gets really squeezy pulling them up. A note is waiting for me on the nightstand,

"There is a cushion near the door; it's not left there by accident."

A chuckle comes out of my mouth reading the note; I love the way you write messages. The cushion is indeed waiting for me, placed in a spot from which I couldn't be seen from the hallway when you open the door. I kneel on it and wait.

Since I have taken off my wristwatch and my mobile is nowhere in sight, I lose track of time. It feels like an eternity. Waiting like this is a good opportunity for me to think about the night ahead. I close my eyes and I can see your face, shining when I said yes to this. I would do anything to see you this happy and excited.

I hear your heels clicking on the marbled floor of the hallway. Then your keys. I straighten up my back and take a deep breath.

"Good boy," you say when you step into our flat; yet the door is still open and anyone could hear you.

I see you carry shopping bags and as you close the door, you ignore me and head for the living room. You wear high-heeled pumps and as I'm on my knees, you look gigantic. You return a moment later, holding a purple dog collar. "Are you ready to be my pet?" you ask and I could sense the anticipation in your voice.

"Yes, Miss," I reply with confidence and you snap the collar around my throat.

"From now on, it's Mistress," you inform me while you attach the leash.

"Yes, Mistress."

"Now show me how grateful you are for being my pet."

You stand a few inches away from me and as I bow down, I could reach you. I kiss the top of your feet. You hum, satisfied with my move and you give my leash a tug. Your tongue is buried inside my mouth for a rough kiss. "You won't regret that," you whisper in my ear and in the meantime, you grab my already stiff cock; it betrays my feelings about being your slave.

You signal me to stand up and lead me to the living room. The reclining chair is waiting for you and another cushion is waiting for me on the floor, "I have to reply to a few emails before we begin. You may caress my legs but don't use your tongue. That comes later."

"Yes, Mistress," I oblige but instead of taking your laptop on your lap, you stand up and fetch a ball gag.

"I require you to be silent while I'm working," you explain and I open my mouth willingly.

The gag is tasteless and it stretches my mouth; I hate it and love it at the same time. Hate it because of its taste and its ability to make me drool and love it because it's a sign of your control over me.

I do as I'm told, caressing your tights-clad legs as you respond to your emails. You don't even spare me a look yet you don't allow me to move away; the free end of the leash is around your right wrist. I'm burning with anticipation; I can't wait to service you but you ignore me. You stop typing and watch a video, prolonging the scene and my frustration with the gag. Your perfume is discreet, but I'm too close to you so it has covered my nostrils. It's intoxicating; it drives me wild.

Finally, you put your computer aside and look at me. "Take off my tights," you bark and I'm excited that I can finally do something. As soon as it's off, you raise your skirt on your hips and spread your legs. Your black knickers are probably moist already but I'm far away to say for sure. "You want to lick my pussy, pet?" you ask, even though you know the answer. I remain still and you slap me in the face, "I asked a question." Since I can't talk, I nod emphatically.

The gag is removed and I take a couple of deep breaths. "Put your hands behind your back and eat me over my underwear."

I mumble, "Yes, Mistress," and I immediately bury my face between your legs. Although I rarely miss a chance to eat you out, I've never been that aroused before. You were soaked even before my lips touched you and I take great pride in that. I lick hungrily but the fabric annoys me. It's thin enough for your juices to go through, but I can't touch your swollen lips. But you're the boss and this was your order; I should have no opinion on the matter.

It doesn't take you long to climax; your orgasm is the greatest reward for my efforts. You catch your breath again and pull me away from your body, using my short hair. I can finally breathe normally as well. You stare at me while I pant but your face tells me that you were satisfied with my performance. I get a kiss; it's shorter than I wanted it to be but it's your call. You remove your knickers, covered with your juices. You make a ball with them; I realise it's my new gag and I welcome it. It's much better than the ball gag; it's softer, it tastes like your pussy and it's even more humiliating; I have my owner's underwear in my mouth. Before you leave, you stroke my erection two or three times and I moan even with my gag. The handle of my leash is placed under one of the legs of the coffee table; it's rather symbolic that I need to remain there.

Once again, I lose track of time. I hear water running so you're probably showering. And then it stops. I try to relax and even forget about my desire for you in order for the time to pass quicker. It's easier said than done; I have your knickers in my mouth, your collar around my neck, my face smells of your pussy.

I can trace some steps, as if you were coming to me. And you do. You open the door, but you're far from ready. You wear a bathrobe and slippers. "You may go to the bathroom," you say and remove my gag and unclip my leash. "But don't wash your face."

"Yes, Mistress," I say softly and leave.

You're waiting for me to return and when I do, I go back to my position. The leash is attached once more and I see you pulling the used knickers out of your pussy, "I thought they needed some extra taste," you explain after you shut my mouth again, "And I'm a very horny Mistress so I'm always wet."

It takes you longer than I expect to get ready. But when you finally return to the living room, I realise it was worth it. You wear a new leather corset that fits your body perfectly. And a new pair of leather boots with high heels. There is no piece of underwear below the waist apart from a garter belt to keep your stockings in place. Your wavy hair is falling on your shoulders and your make-up is simple and light; you know exactly what I like.

I want to gasp when I look at you but my gag prevents me from doing so. When my mouth is finally free, I cannot help it but speak, "You look amazing, Mistress."

You don't respond but you smirk. The leash is back on your hands and you sit on the reclining chair once again. "You have to earn the right to worship my body. You start with my boots. If you do a good job, then I'll let you worship my feet."

I'm up for the challenge so I don't waste any time; my tongue soon touches the leather. I know how humiliating it is but I don't care anymore. I'm getting pushed deeper into the rabbit hole of submission and I enjoy it. You're probably as eager to move on as I am so you signal me to unzip them after a few minutes. As soon as your feet are free you push your feet against my torso, "Are you ready to take care of my feet, pet?"

"Yes, Mistress," I reply confidently and I'm waiting for the order to take your stockings off.

It never comes though. Instead, the only thing you say is, "Stick out your tongue," and I oblige. You rub your right foot on my tongue, "I know you have a thing for stockings too," you say and I feel like an open book; you know all my weak spots. "Careful not to ruin my stockings."

As I kiss and lick your feet, you explain the rules, "Licking your owner's feet directly is a privilege which you haven't earned yet. But if don't get on the next stage in time, then you return to the first stage. My boots."

This game of yours doesn't allow me to take a breath; I have to perform at my very best at all times. Without much thinking, I carry on licking your stocking-clad feet. I'm past the point where I think what I am doing; I don't need to think, I need to do as I'm told.

I'm head over heels when you finally remove your stockings. We have a stool lying around, and you tell me to fetch it. As I bring it back to you, I offer you my leash and your grin tells me how satisfied you are with me. You rest your legs on the stool and I start worship them. This word describes my actions perfectly. I treat them like a precious object which I'm allowed to enjoy. They're so smooth; I love that you take good care of them. My tongue dances on your skin and the first moans begin coming out of your mouth; I double my efforts because of that.

Your moans become louder, "That's a brilliant job pet. And don't fucking stop," I get an enthusiastic praise. I don't know how much time you let me worship them; I don't mind doing it all evening. You don't tell me to stop, but you put both of them on my face and rub them on my skin. "You did well and I expect you to perform equally well at the end of the night when you thank you for taking you as my slave."

"Will do, Mistress."

"Now get rid of the stool and come for the big job."

You have spread your legs while I return the stool to its original place so I admire your beautiful pussy in all its sacred majesty. Your piercing blue eyes are glowing when I look keenly at you. A pair of handcuffs is on your hands and you wiggle them about. "If you want to eat me out, you have to be cuffed," you inform me and I turn my back to you so you can secure my wrists behind my back. You turn me around with a tug on the leash and you push my head to your wet lips. They're as delicious as I expected them to be and I lick them hungrily. You're loving it and I'm trying even harder. Your pussy is clean shaven, exactly how I like it and I just can't get enough of its delicious juices. Your thighs are gently squeezing my head, keeping me in place - not that I would try to escape.

I have difficulty breathing but it doesn't stop me from worshipping you. I push my tongue inside of you and you enjoy it, moving your pelvis so I can get deeper. When you sit down again, I switch to the clit and you gasp for air, immediately. You're so close now and I can feel it. Your legs are locked behind my back and you push your body against my face. Your groans are loud, animalistic. They carry on as you reach the tip of the mountain. Only after a minute, they turn into sounds of relief. You pant, trying to regain your composure but I'm still locked between your thighs, cleaning you as thoroughly as I can.

You finally release me and it's my turn to catch my breath. You tenderly caress my face as I try to recover; your look tells me that you are undoubtedly pleased with how well I serviced you. Some moments later you give my leash a pull and you make me stand up. My swollen cock is trying to escape the tight boxers and there is evidence of precum. "Remember, you only cum after I say so," you subtly remind me, but I find it very hard to control myself anymore. You are well aware of that and take me to the bathroom. My hands are freed and the leash is unclipped. "I want to see you being much softer when you come out. You have five minutes."

Frankly, it's way too difficult to relax when I'm with you. I try my best and manage to get some result. I pour cold water on my crotch and it helps significantly. As I open the door, you clip the leash again and point to the floor, "It's only a short distance to the bedroom. You will walk behind me on fours," you promptly order.

We reach the bedroom and you signal me to get on top of the bed. You put your Mistress' persona on ice for a moment as you sit on the bed, facing me, you have even let the leash drop. "Are you ready for this babe?" you ask and I chuckle; your blonde hair, blue eyes and sexy outfit make you irresistible, I cannot say no to you.

"I am, Mistress."

"Sure?" I shake my head in approval. "Good," you say and grab the leash so you can pull me close to you for a very wet kiss. "Get in position."

I willingly comply and you fix the pillows so I can be as comfortable as possible. You place a sleeping mask over my eyes, cutting off my vision - not that it was of any use at the moment. My boxers are pulled down and now I'm totally exposed to you. Your nails scratch my cheeks violently, like you want to penetrate my skin. God, I love the feeling of your polished nails on me. I hear you move about, preparing yourself and I appreciate the use of the mask; it helps building trust. Interestingly, you put a condom on my semi-hard cock.

At last, I feel a cold lube on my back door and I instantly take a deep breath, "You remember the safe words pet?" you wonder; the tone in your voice is strict and commanding once again.

"I do, Mistress."

"Relax," you say and slap my arse.

The peak of your rubber cock touches my sphincter, "It may hurt at first but give it a chance," you recommend.

It does hurt, but I bite my lips and try to make no sounds. You are taking things slowly and I'm so thankful for that. I can experience my body opening up and it's such a unique experience; I have never felt anything close to that. After the initial shock, I begin getting accustomed to your presence inside of me. You move in and out slowly and it feels highly erotic. I try to suppress my moans which come so naturally now. "Feel free to express yourself pet. I love listening to the sounds you make."

Any hesitation I have up to this point go straight out of the window. I let myself go; I start groaning and panting. You never change your rhythm or your approach; you stick to lovemaking. I'm getting firm every moment and I'm close to an orgasm; I could never imagine that I could cum like that. You detect it, "You may cum at any moment, pet."

"Much appreciated, Mistress," I say between my moans.

You help the cause with your right hand and I feel really thankful for that, although I'm overwhelmed by the excitement so I don't express my gratitude as I should have done. My body is ready to erupt and I realise I'm holding myself back even though I have your blessing to climax. And so, I do that, cursing and panting as I blast hot cum in the condom. My knees are too weak to control my body anymore, but you don't let me move.

It's your turn to moan and it's loud and intense. And your turn to curse and you begin to move more rapidly. It's becoming a tad uncomfortable, but you soon climax as well. Your breathing is laboured and you pull away the rubber toy and let the leash fall off your hands. I collapse on the bed and you follow suit; I still wear the sleeping mask but I can notice your weight on the bed. You hug me and kiss me softly on the lips, "Thank you," you say with a purr.

**

I look for the hair-dryer as you're getting dressed. "Your clothes are behind the door," you inform me. It's a new black suit with a red necktie. It's quite unusual for to dress like that for dinner, especially considering the fact that I almost hate neckties. But you love them on me and you're the boss so it's not up to me.

Your clothes are a surprise as well. You don't wear one of your usual pencil skirts, the ones that hug so body so perfectly. You wear a much wider black skirt; you tell me it's called an A-line skirt and you match it with a white shirt. Not that it doesn't look superb, you look sexy as hell.

My suit is perfectly tailored to my body and I wonder how could you get even the smallest details so perfectly. I don't like my tie; it makes me look like Jeremy Corbyn but as I said, you call the shots.

"My shoes are new and they're five-inch high. You want me to wear heels, you're going to carry me around," you joke and I chuckle; it's a price worth paying. Before you put on your lipstick, we share another kiss and it makes me wonder how I can resist you for the next two or three hours.

You have arranged everything for the night, so you have made a reservation to one of the restaurants we had in our bucket list. It's a steakhouse and you surprisingly know what I would fancy to eat. It's your night and you choose everything. It's an amusing experience nonetheless. As we're eating, I can feel your stocking-clad foot caressing me between my legs. I get hard immediately and you smile wide when you feel it. "I should probably ask you to stand up right now but I'm going to be kind with you tonight."

You even pick dessert; you are well aware that I have a soft spot for tiramisu. I start to feel the effect of the wine; thankfully the flat is not far away. "You keep pouring wine in my glass. I believe you're trying to get me drunk."

"Oh, so I would seduce you?" you answer, "I've already achieved that."

"Yeah right."

"Have I not?" you say with a straight face as your feet again touches my crotch.

"I never questioned that," I say, trying to escape from the tough spot.

"Good. I'm going to the ladies' room. Take care of the bill, will you?"

Your brief absence allows me to regroup and calm down. The waiter asks me if I was to split the bill and I laugh.

"It's 52.80. I told him to come back for you to pay him," I brief you when you get back and for a moment you freeze, "Your part of the bill honey, we're a modern couple, aren't we?"

"For a moment, you had me," you chuckle, "Did you tip him well?"

"Of course, I did, he was very helpful and polite. He even brought us these shots, to finish our dinner."

We empty the shot glasses and I help you put on your coat. Soon, we set off, but you instruct me to drive slowly. "Do you understand why I wore this skirt?"

"I'd say you wish for me to go down on you, Mistress."

"That's right slave. We don't get home before you worship my pussy."

Near the major artery that heads all the way to our neighbourhood, there's a petrol station. Next to the petrol station there are an array of shops, including a sex shop. Their parking lots are deserted and there are no lights but the petrol station is still open and the main road is just a hundred yards away. You show me where to stop. Passers by may see our car but not on the inside of it. There's another car parked a few dozen yards away and it's obvious that its passengers are having a good time on the back seat.

You have prepared this ahead as your actions are precise, as they're coming out of a playbook. You get rid of your coat and come over to the driver's side. You open my door and use my necktie as a leash to draw me out. The seat on your side is already pushed forward, leaving some space. You lean your back against the door and spread your legs. You help me kneel on the space behind the passenger seat and thankfully the soft, cushy mats will not destroy my new trousers. You lift your skirt and signal me to get cracking. "Start slowly, lick the inside of my thighs first," you instruct.

"What if someone notices us?"

You pull my necktie and slap me in the face, "First. Don't forget to address me appropriately. Second. It's my job to be concerned, not yours. You just do as I say. Third. If someone notices us, I'll inform them that my slave is eating me out. Aren't you proud to be under my skirt, worshipping me?"

"Of course, I am, Mistress."

"Then start licking."

I make an effort to forget about everything else and focus on the job in hand. This time, you prefer to give me instructions on every step of the way. I start with your thighs, as you ordered, but you soon tell me to shift to the main course. Initially, it's over your lacy thong and then you move it aside and press my head against your body. You are so wet and I'm loving it. Your lips are swollen, and the scent of your arousal has covered my nostrils. I lick as fast as I can, trying to consume as much of your arousal as possible. "Slow down, slave. I don't want to come yet."