Her Service Charge

"Oh. Yes. That's just right. You're doing very well. Your wife is a lucky woman, I'd say."

His licking felt divine, and she wanted to immerse herself in each circuit, but part of her still wondered if he was enjoying it too. It helped when he moaned with obvious pleasure, and she felt further confirmation etched in each attentive stroke of his tongue.

Somehow that soothed her, and freed her to flow. Her legs began to clench, her breathing to hitch. And then, all at once, her hands were running through his hair, clutching his scalp, the right one groping down to his neck to pull him in, and the left forefinger aimlessly finding itself wedged under his bowtie strap, yanking it sideways to reposition him. It was all on now. She handled his face breathfully, grinding it down on her, undulating under him, the tide ever rising, until at last, the dam flew open.

When she reached her limit, he lapped at her release, until she gently kicked his chest to dismiss him, pushing him back up to his knees, as she plopped herself down panting on the soft duvet. The room was silent save her stuttered exhalation, and she allowed the pleasure to course through her before ebbing, then prolonging the moment by trailing her pinkies slowly across her heaving aureoles. All at once, her fears reemerged, and part of her worried that she'd gone too far. Then, she sat up to discover a most rewarding sight.

He was still there kneeling, still with his hands behind him, still fully engorged, and he was wearing only the bent and battered butler's bowtie, along with one of the most blissful smiles she had ever seen. Slack-jawed, he stared at her in rapt wonder, and for the first time together, they both intuitively grasped the safe haven of subspace. There was absolutely nothing to fear.

"You really did like that, didn't you?" she marveled.

He was panting and laughed at the absurdly obvious. "God, yes! More. Please."

She smiled and pondered, "Well, come on up, then. Hop up on the bed. And then lie down on your back. There's something I require right now."

He scrambled up and lay as commanded, his cock jutting obscenely upward.

With a focused swing of her leg, she straddled him. "This won't be easy for you, but since the rules are that I get what I want here..." Slowly, slowly, slowly, she impaled her pussy onto his cock. She leaned forward, resting on her palms, her pendant and nipples dangling above his lips, just beyond reach. She closed her eyes, and sat almost still, making just barely perceptible undulations, as he struggled to remain still below her.

"After I cum, I like to feel filled." She tilted her head back, and sucked in to savor the sensations. "But remember, you are not to cum now."

After a string of soft moans, each successively further delayed, she squinted to inspect him, and was again pleased to discover his glowing smile, lost in the devotion of his sacrifice. Finally, she rolled her shoulders, and then leaned off, sidling over to lie next to him, lifting a leg to allow his arousal to press into her thigh.

Basking in her post-glow, she began to lightly stroke his chest, and flick at his nipples. She felt quite desirable, even dangerously sexy- distinctly Phryne-like. "You know, it's very gratifying to see how much you enjoyed pleasing me. It makes me feel very powerful. I think I'm starting to be glad that I came today."

He moaned, and she chuckled, "Now, I wonder. What I should do with you at this point?"

Feeling himself wrapped around her fingers, he shuddered with each brush and pinch, and waited for her next move. Cautiously, he winked and offered, "I'd be happy to offer some suggestions."

She laughed, "Don't be impertinent. No, that will be fine, thank you. I think I'm managing well enough without your input, don't you?"

He nodded and sighed, as her fingers trailed off his chest, and she sat up. She caught her reflection in the tall mirror, and noted how disheveled her ponytail had become from her thrashing. She removed the ribbon and shook her hair out to loosen it, as he watched and flashed to black-and-white sirens of yore.

Running the ribbon through her fingers, she started, "I got it. Ooh, you'll love this!" and then she wrapped the ribbon around the base of his cock. Tying a firm knot at one end, the remaining length stretched back to her hand.

"See, now I've got you on a leash. Wasn't that something you mentioned? You can be my puppy." She chortled and tugged it to and fro, watching his turgidity respond to her demands. "Come on puppy. Come on good boy, sit up!"

She absent-mindedly played for a minute with her new pet, while he dutifully panted and raised his hands like supplicant paws, wide-eyedly whimpering for attention. They giggled together in their play.

It was fun and silly, but she tired quickly of the game, and was ready for something more. Perhaps now was the time to please him some?

"Ok, I know what's next. I'm thinking about our emails. One of the things you kept saying was how you want to be edged, how exciting that would be. I think we should do that now." He 'woofed,' in enthusiastic affirmation, and she laughed.

"Roll over, doggie. On your back."

She released the leash and reached to the bed table for a bottle of lube he'd left there earlier. Squeezing from above, she generously poured gel onto his cock, and then rubbed it around. He woofed again in joy, but she now wanted a man to pleasure.

"That's enough canine for now. I want you focused on how this feels."

Using only her thumb and forefinger, she began to tentatively trace his full length, up and down, repeatedly, never quickening her pace. He started to moan softly, and she watched as his scrotum rose inward. Occasionally, she paused to yank on the ribbon, or to run one licked-finger around his swollen head, causing him to groan in torture, before returning to her passive stroking.

"Oh! Please!"

She feigned girlish innocence, "Please? Please what?"

He glared at her mischief, grooving on the torment, "Oh, god, you know what. Please, go faster!"

"Faster? You mean like this?" And for a brief moment, she grabbed his cock with her full hand and vigorously stroked it, before abruptly resuming her slow two-fingered pace.

"Oh please, please don't stop."

She stared down at him and grinned, "Don't worry. I won't."

And she didn't, continuing in this pattern, alternating between long slow torment and brief flurries of action, until he began to pant and writhe, mumbling, "Oh god, I'm getting close. I'm gonna cum soon."

She paused, holding just her forefinger to his cockhead. She was on the verge of letting him cum. It seemed the right thing to do, and she told herself how much he'd enjoy it, after all this teasing. But something stopped her. She wasn't certain what, except she remembered his explicit pleas for tease and denial. Was that really what he wanted? She still wasn't convinced, but she could at least give it a try.

"No, don't you dare. You heard me before. You don't cum."

He heaved, and nodded, digging his nails into the back of his thighs, putting his full focus on clenching the looming eruption.

Noting his effort, she was struck by his willingness to sacrifice to her demands. She tugged the ribbon a few times, and then said, "Let's see if you can take just a little more. Do it for me," and followed with a series of agonizingly slow strokes.

He groaned in utter frustration, and quickly yelped, "No, stop, I can't hold it."

She nodded, then let him cool down for a moment, restricting their contact to a light massage of his balls. She felt a buzz herself, stunned that refusing him had yielded such obedience.

"That was good. I liked that you told me when you were close. You should keep doing that."

After a minute, they repeated the same pattern. He was clearly working to control himself, as he lingered in a haunted ecstasy. And watching him struggle gave her confidence. His active acquiescence convinced her that delaying was the right choice after all.

So she continued the cycle, bringing him up to the brink, and then pausing to allow him to recover, several time more. Each climb halted just before the apex, until he was pleading incoherently, promising her anything she wanted.

Watching his desperation mount, she found herself tempted to toy with her newfound power. During one pause, she rolled into a spooning position, nestling his cock between her ass checks, and then gripping it there stationary. The soft mounds of her behind felt excruciating, but in the absence of friction, he remained frustrated. Never before had she been so comfortable with her own sadism, and she embraced the guilty pleasure. As he writhed behind her, she sweetly whispered to him, a soft cruel counsel, "Hold it. Hold it for me... just a little more.. do it for ME...just because I ask you to...."

It was delightful agony, and he contemplated invoking 'Prudence' more than once, but was able to repeatedly talk himself down. Eventually, his moaning grew so loud that she feared they'd be heard, so she reached down to the rug, and fished her panties up to stuff into his mouth. "Now, quiet down, or we'll have to stop this altogether."

One cycle later, though muffled, his message was clear, "Saawwp, peeese, I caw ayyc i'!"

She laughed, and relented, but not before stating, "Ok, ok. Let's just do five more strokes, and then we'll stop."

His eyes glared wide in agony.

She cooed, "C'mon. I know you can do it. Do it for me."

And he did, straining every nerve in his body to inhibit himself, as she proceeded through her delicious countdown, each stroke pinching just slightly tighter, and lingering just slightly longer than its predecessor, "Fiive..., Fouuuor..., Threeeeeee......, Twoooooooooo........, aaaaaand........, Ooooooooooooonnnehh!"

She unhanded him, letting his dick thrust into the empty air in front of her. He lay there, still gripping himself, obedient, his muttering still muffled, "...yesss, fah you, ...I do i' fah you..."

Abruptly, she rose from the bed, and declared that she needed a bathroom break, leaving him behind frustrated and aching. A few minutes later, as she washed her hands, she knew two things for sure: She was in control. And they both liked it that way, very much.

In fact, to her amazement, everything he'd declared in the emails had turned out to be true; she no longer questioned the sincerity of his professed fantasies. Nor, any longer, was she concerned with whether she was 'doing it right.' Quite clearly, she was doing things plenty right! And it was working. He was under her thrall and dying to remain there, ready to sacrifice whatever she requested. Drying her hands, she was alert to something else; all this power was wetting her own arousal. And she was now ready to shed any lingering shame. She would hold him to his promises, and put him to some very good use.

When she returned, he had regained just a smattering of composure, but had surrendered little of his lubed engorgement. He gasped as she pulled the panties from his mouth, and then stretched his sore jaw.

She grinned, raised her eyebrows, and queried, "Ready for the next round?"

He looked ragged, but nodded enthusiastically, "Yes, Ma'am. I'll do whatever you want."

Her smile radiated confidence. "Yes. I know. Well, I've been thinking. There are some other 'services' you mentioned in your emails that might feel rather nice. Roll onto your back again, and scoot over; lie diagonally on the bed."

She climbed up, until she was astride his chest, facing his feet. Waving her ass in front of him, she said "I know you want this. Go ahead. Lick."

He dove in, rounding her globes and tracing her crack with his tongue, ecstatic at being granted this access. It tickled her at first, but rapidly converted to a tingling pleasure, then building to widening ripples of ecstasy. She snorted as he labored below her, so propelled by his desire for her, and she began taunting him, "That's right. Here's the treat I promised you. Lick right there, on my rosebud. This is what you want. This is what enslaves you. I bet your wife never lets you do this!"

Goaded to please her, he covered her behind with frenzied nibbles and licks, bracketed by focused dives, when his tongue angled its way inward. In their current states, both of their inhibitions were easily shattered, and his worship stoked her to a frenzy. Soon, she was above him, riding his face in full command, yanking at his hair, tugging at his tie, maneuvering his face to rub all of her sensitive spots, from her rear to her clit, all at her own needful pace. The bed squeaked to her rhythms, her pendant swung wildly, getting tangled in her hair. His ribboned dick bobbed immodestly below her, as her orders barked out in quick succession: "Oh god. Yes! That's it. Right there. Faster. To the right. Oh, yes! Worship me! You are my little sex toy!"

At last, she exploded, furiously, screaming, flooding her essence all over his face and chest. He lapped it up with servile relish, worshipping at her altar, seeking every last drop of this Goddess' nectar. She surfed the wave as long as she could tolerate, until she roughly pushed off of him and rolled away, stating "That's it. Stop. I need to rest."

For a long moment, Gwen lay there in her lingering bliss, her eyes closed, and her breath slowly returning to pace. She was amazed at her own wantonness. Now that didn't feel so much like a role-play. She had been totally carried away on her own pleasure. And when she was done, there he was, not the least upset with her, not critical of her selfishness, but rather wanting her even more, lost in rapture, still attending to her, with servile desire.

Immersed in these considerations, she slowly traced her ring finger around her left nipple, as he lay next to her, now softly kissing and nibbling at her shoulders and neck, whispering plaintively "please...please...please" under his breath, loving every second of honeyed torment.

Finally, her revelation unspooled in a low meditation, "You know, Levi, you've really taught me something here today. And now that I get it, it's really quite simple: Men cannot help wanting women. That's it. All you need to know. Your desire renders you powerless really, putty in our hands. It's our decisive advantage. Once a woman grasps this, she can get a man to do anything she wants just by arousing him and having him wait. He becomes her subject, a slave, a toy."

She opened her eyes, and then propped her head up on one hand. Glowing, she gazed down at him. He was on his side, still prone, still fully engorged, and was nodding and whimpering blissfully into the mattress. "I mean, look at you! It's really astounding. I was foolish not to get this years ago."

She sat up more erect, stretched, and leaned against the headboard, now holding herself up regal, enthroned, as he writhed on the bed below her. On a whim, she reinforced her epiphany, with a clear display of dominance- holding one foot up to his mouth for worship, she pressed the other firmly downward on his erection, bending it back between his legs. She snickered as she watched it bow before her will.

Staring at him haughtily, she declared, "And what's more- you love it! You absolutely love that I've got you all fucked up."

He groaned and kept nodding slowly, before yielding, sucking and kissing her foot with passion. A sort of frail thinness pervaded him, and he felt happily suspended, both in the ache of his cock's suppression, and in their mutual acceptance of her insights.

Finally, she released his cock, feeling that the message had been delivered. But she continued to study him, noting his virtually unknotted bowtie, and reddened face from her facesitting. A particularly ruby spot graced his brow, where she figured she must have rubbed with special abandon.

"Look! I've marked you!" She laughed, "It's the Mark of Gwen! You carry my sign, marked as my property."

And then: an inspiration.

She rose and walked to the end of the bed, again having him lie flat on his back. Ascending by the foot of the bed, she straddled each of his legs in succession, and inched her way up his body, rubbing her pussy on every muscle and joint. He begged for mercy as she cruelly lingered over his cock, grasping him in her soft, warm folds. Then, she continued her victory lap, up across his torso, over both arms, concluding with a final smothering slide over his face.

"There. Now, I've completely covered you; you're coated in my scent from head to toe. You are mine."

He was panting, and shuddered with understanding, "God, that is so hot. Who are you? Please, I can't take it anymore. Have mercy on me- let me cum."

She smiled at her conquest, and slowly shook her head. "Remember, we agreed that it would be my choice."

Rising, she towered above him, and with one arm on the wall, she firmly pressed a big toe on his Adam's apple, before presenting it to him to kiss.

"And I choose to leave you ... like this."

She then slid down, padded over to the table, and stepped into her dress. Returning to his writhing form, she told him to re-tie the halter string. At one point, she stumbled slightly, and he rushed to stabilize her, earning a nod of approval for his service. But when he kissed her neck and reached around to cup her breasts, she pulled away, "No. No more touching. Just finish tying me up, please."

Her body covered, she was about to step into her panties when she spied his persistent arousal.

"You're not cumming. But we've got to do something to contain that ridiculous erection of yours." Tossing the silky lace onto his belly, she said, "Here, put these on."

She giggled as, blushing, he squirmed into the tight confines, his greased-up cock stretching them to absurdity. Shaking her head, "I really can make you do whatever I want. We are definitely doing this again."

With that assertion, she found her shoes, and turned back to survey her damage. He was sprawled on the bed, wearing only the remnants of the bowtie and her black panties, from which a short length of her pink hair ribbon flapped; he was exhausted, glistening, engorged, and utterly ruined with desire. She then offered a final coup de grace. "Oh, and one last thing, you are not to shower. Go home to your wife that way, covered in my scent. I want her to smell me on you- marked as my property."

He nodded with amazement, unable to even beg, except with his widened eyes, and watched in awe as she strode from the room in triumph.

He was wiped clean, and knew nothing.

Except, of course, one thing; he was very, very glad to have chosen Gwen.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

By the time ten minutes had passed, Levi had managed to pull himself up into a sitting position, bolstered by the stack of pillows at the headboard. A searing desire still permeated him, and he reveled in the burn. But the role-play left him more than just feeling good. There was also something very liberating about being so immersed in passion. In both ways, it had been everything he'd ever wanted, and then much, much more.

When Gwen returned from the bathroom, her halter was replaced with the black silk robe he'd left for her there. From Japan, it was adorned with succulent pink cherry blossoms, and lent her a regal air. As before, she surveyed the room, before settling her gaze on him. But this time, her expression was void of tension, replaced by a satisfied and loving glow. She shook her head and laughed.

"I had quite the nice poop! I think your ministrations must have loosened me up."

He blushed at her innuendo, "Pleased to have been of service, Madam. I know how you adore a good one."

Walking slowly to the bed, she guffawed again, tousled his hair, and then tightened and straightened his bowtie with mock earnestness. As if that was the thing that needed attention!