"Travis?" I call as I enter our home. I don't hear the familiar, "Daddy's home!" from our son.


It's quiet.

Curious. The car was in the driveway and I smell dinner.

Walking in, I pass the entry to our seldom used dining room.


I start at your voice, soft but stronger and lower than normal.

I take a deep breath at the sultry scene you have created. In the soft light of two candles, I see the table spread with succulent aromatic food; steaming shrimp and oysters, fresh salad and vegetables, and you. You are the cornerstone of my sensuous welcome. Standing beside the table, you wear a black micro-mini skirt, a very low-cut top draping loosely over your soft round mounds. Strappy high heels elongate your strong, soft legs. Long black gloves slide up your tender arms. Everything is dark, elegant and mysterious.

Your luxurious red hair glows in the candlelight. Each soft, seductive curve of your feminine form is accentuated in your stance; strong, beautiful and sumptuously sexual. Tenderly, you grasp a wine bottle in your hands, stroking the long neck suggestively. Your eyes lock on mine and you slowly lick your lips like a hungry lioness on the prowl.

"Do you want to . . . eat?" Your sentence hangs for a moment in delectable innuendo. Then you indicate the table.

"Where's Travis?"

"He's sleeping at Grandad's tonight."

I move to you and grab your waist. You yield yourself to my grasp and I pull your lips to my mouth. You accept my probing tongue. We kiss long, wet and passionately. I grind my hips into you and your pelvis meets my yearning embrace.

But when you finish your appetizer, you back out of my arms.

"Save some for dessert," you say firmly.

"Okay," I say. "Let's eat."

"Not so fast." You sound incredulous. Your burning eyes heat my curiosity, teasing me. "You're not dressed for dinner."

Your look is deliberate and hard. I am confused, troubled at your dissatisfaction. You break eye contact, looking quickly at the end of the table. They dart back, now bright and playful, sparkling with mischievous glee. I follow your glance to find on the end of the table a simple men's white lace g-string. When I look back, you have a sly, deviant smile.

A sharp spark of excitement shoots through my body. You are firm, adamant in your expectation for me to comply as I indeed want to do, anticipating an evening out of the ordinary. The pressure between my legs begins to rise. I pick up the tiny garment and turn toward the bedroom.

"Wait a minute." Your forceful command halts me. "I want to watch you take your clothes off." Your moist lips fall slightly open and you eyes betray scandalous intent. "And I expect you to make me enjoy it." You begin to delicately stroke the wine bottle again.

I put the g-string down and unbutton my shirt deliberately, dutifully. I pull out the tail and bare my chest, flexing my pectoral muscles just a little. You watch with a laughing smile. How often had you stripped for me like this? I wonder if you enjoyed it as much as me.

I unbuckle my belt and slowly unbutton my slacks. Gently I tug the zipper down. I drop the shirt from my shoulders and allow it to tumble to the ground. Thankfully, my little tease amuses you.

With my hands on my hips, I kick off my shoes and turn around. You admire the rippling muscles of my bare back. I grab the waist of my pants with my thumbs into my underwear and slowly thrust down, liberating my body from all covering.

"Nice butt."

I smile. "It's all yours."

"I know. You may dress in the bathroom."


The luscious moment of vulnerability just before I enter your presence in my negligible outfit is difficult to savor because it is so fleeting. It leaves in its wake the taste for more, building toward the rush of total exposure, standing under the scrutiny of your gaze, absolutely on your terms alone, enhancing the feeling of your ownership.

I model my merely accented nudity for you, trying to make the movement of my body enjoyable to you. I hope I have been working out enough. I hope my muscle tone is right, that the right ripples are in the right place to please you, to bring you pleasure. I stand, turn and bend over as you direct. I raise my arms, flex my back and rock my hips at your bidding. I want you to see that I have yielded my body and myself to you. As a result, I feel the building pressure of my excitement. Flesh and blood, body and soul, I am yours in complete surrender. This pleases you.

You order me to serve your meal. I obey. No part of me is safe from your salacious eye and roaming hands. Your fingers brush my shoulders; slide down my back and up my chest to amuse themselves with my flat little nipples. Maybe you imagine the tingle you feel with your nipples in my fingers.

You're hands caress my stomach and the soft flesh above my hips. I am aching for you to take pleasure from all my members. Patiently, you hold back, tasting one bite at a time, ruminating on where it will lead for you. You reach around my firm thighs, stroking up the insides of my legs, tickling when you can go no higher.

You do not cease to leer at my nakedness, groping shamelessly, laughing and teasing. I am completely objectified by you and it thrills me. My new g-string barely contains my pleasure.

You caress my hips and my soft bottom. You fondle the white package stuffed with my genitalia, straining its hems and seams from the pressure within. I am the powerless target of your indecent appetite. My stripped flesh, seized in your clutches, yearns to be devoured, consumed to feed the erotic thirsts of your most shameful and darkest imaginings.

Tonight, you own every part of me. You are the demanding mistress, harsh but playful, expecting a responsive subject. I am the enslaved servant, willingly helpless to resist your most outrageous demands. Chills seize me as I imagine what you might require. Breathlessly, I hope for your most shocking and extreme orders tonight; and soon.

Once your meal is served, you have me stand behind you and stroke your hair. You take small bites of food and long slow sips of dark wine between long pauses, savoring my gentle touch in your long tresses, choosing to receive pleasure from my strokes. My warmth and affection soothes the wild beast within you, for the time being. I let a few long soft strands brush my abdomen, stealing sips of physical stimulation for myself.

My food lays cooling on the table, though I do not protest or request that I should eat it. I am your adoring and devoted slave. I am hungrier for your gratification.

You beckon me to scratch your back. I obey with tender surrender, but my efforts aren't enough.

"Kneel beside me," you direct. Will I be punished?

I comply, slowly, eagerly.

"Reach under my top."

I bow as close to you as possible, longing for the proximity of your body. I touch your skin under your clothing and smell the natural perfume of your body. I absorb your scent. You lean into me. Your muscles loosen as you give yourself to my touch. You rock and sway as your own desire builds. You straighten as shivers of titillation burn through your spine. I know you well. The glowing warmth of arousal has begun to moisten your insides deliciously.

I am tempted to devour you. I want to overpower you and ravish you. I could throw you down and ram my growing member into your sheath and grind and pump and grind and pump until all the sexual tension you have built up in me with your pitiless teasing explodes inside you. But to take you would deny me the pleasure of being taken. The beautiful tension you are building in me will certainly have its release in your time.

You open your eyes and give me a hot, sultry look. "You can eat now." Your tone is deep and breathy.

I stand. My growing penis strains against the straps of the g-string. You notice with approval. As I reach for food, you continue to look at me with a lustful decadent hunger. The intensity of your stare is unsettling. I am you prey, and you are waiting to pounce. It is clearly your intent to toy with me and tease me without mercy before pillaging me and using me to gratify your carnal appetite.

You shift, straightening your body as your hunger turns impish. I feel your bare foot slide between my legs, probing toward my crotch. I open my legs eagerly, yielding to your playful push. You gently rub me with the ball of your foot, pressing in to me so I feel the power of your leg in my most tender parts. Your foot brushes my sensitive glans through the fine barrier of the g-string and I gasp at the sudden jolt to my center of arousal.

"You like that?" You scrutinize my response.

"Yes," I confess.

Your toes hook the top of the g-string and slowly pull down, raking my pubic hair and releasing my stiffening appendage. You tickle my testicles and then tuck the little triangle of fabric under my swelling genitalia, out of your way. You wiggle your toes in my perineum. Your tiny extremities tease my soft scrotum before you thrust your big toe to my anal passage. I curve my hips and spread my thighs to give you access to my back door. Your toe presses and rubs my tender hole. I relax my sphincter muscles to your probe and open myself for you to enter me. You study my hypnotic reception of your attentions with gleeful curiosity. But you decline to enter this time.

Your bare foot rises over my balls to stroke my exposed shaft, quickly causing an exquisite hard-on. I breathe more deeply. You slowly masturbate me with your foot, even grasping my shaft in your toes. Droplets of slick juice spill over my erection allowing your foot to slide delightfully across my hardness. You giggle as I close my eyes and focus the attention of all my nerves on happily humping your foot.

Your tease takes a cruel turn when you withdraw your foot. I look at you disappointed. But your devilish smile makes me hope for something new and unknown.

"Put my shoe back on."

I stand to comply, my hard-on bouncing before me.

"Under the table," you specify.

There I see the stirring sight of your bare shapely legs. The left leg is crossed over the shoeless right leg. I become more interested in how high up your thigh you have allowed our skirt to rise. I see almost the entire length of your legs. I admire your muscular calves and firm well-toned thighs. Remembering my purpose, I crawl to your feet and grab the loose shoe.

I wrap my hand around your calf and ask, "Can you lift your foot?"

Your body shifts as you turn your knees toward me and then remain still. I wonder why you hesitate, but I wait patiently. Slowly, carefully, you uncross your legs while I try to steal a peek into the dark cavern up your skirt. You pause again with your legs together, both feet on the floor. The dark mysteries between them remain hidden to me, though I can see far into the gap. Then as you raise the bare foot for the shoe, you allow the other leg to fall away just a little, just enough, just like it was inadvertent.

The light penetrates the darkness beneath you, illuminating the lips of your uncovered pussy. Silently, I admire your naked womanhood and remain still.

You begin to wonder if I have noticed your revealed treasures. You had planned this moment not knowing what to expect, but not expecting nothing. You part your legs further, peeling your skirt hem nearly to the waist. That should do it, you think.

But you don't feel the warmth of my nearness, nor do you hear the soft smacking of my drool-soaked lips and tongue hungering for the feast you've laid before me. You were counting on my worked up desire and love for cunnilingus to tantalize and tempt me. Where was I?

Suddenly, the whole evening seemed silly to you. Your face turns bright crimson. After all your preparations, maybe I didn't like the scenario you had built. Maybe you had botched your attempt to guess at a fantasy I would enjoy. You had opened yourself for me, exposed yourself in front of my face. Was I disgusted? Could you have failed to lure me into your snare? Had you just set yourself up for a naked humiliation?

In one motion, you slap your thighs together and look under the table. You catch my eyes snatching away from between your legs and my hand gripping my own hard-on, at work on myself under the table. Clearly I was off task.

"That's mine," you growl ominously while your playful eyes sparkle.

"Put on my shoe," you demand with a shrill sharp voice.

In one motion I scoop your foot with the black heel.

You stand, leaving me under the table to watch your legs shifting and your body tilt. I can't see you from the waist up and can't tell what you're doing, but it is easy to admire your subtle movements in your sexy shoes and tiny skirt embracing your hips and long legs. Then your arms drop to your sides. In one hand is your little black top.

You begin sauntering away, letting your hips sway, flexing your buttocks against the tight smooth skirt. Your soft hair flows over your bare shoulders and naked back, and your supple arms trail your body like wisps of mist on a foggy morning.

Abandoned on the floor where your feet once rested, I call to you, "What are you doing?"

You turn slowly, allowing me to observe the commanding sexuality of your half-clad body. The dark high heels prop your well-toned legs, molding your strong round calf muscles, perching your body into a position of erotic power. The tiny black skirt tightly hugs your hips and your bottom, highlighting your soft feminine form yet hiding your dark womanly mystery from sight, but not from imagination. The long black gloves stylishly envelope your gentle hands and lithe arms delicately, elegantly cloaking them. You stand slightly turned so that I catch a glimpse of an erect nipple at the end of your smooth round breast. Your perfect nakedness is saucily accessorized with accents whispering the dark fiery passion of an exotic night.

"Follow me. " You punctuate your demand with gripping silence.

I roll quickly from underneath the table. Before rising, I look up to you.

You have not moved. I am frozen by your withering glare. You stand over me with inscrutable desires and intentions, wielding unconditional control, holding the sweet promise of a shadowy mystery.

"I graciously allowed you a peek and you took advantage of me." Your amusement is thinly veiled. You play out your tease to lead the game closer to completion.

"You must be punished." You stand firmly, asserting your control. Then you turn swiftly, hair dancing around you as a conspiratorial smile escapes your soft lips. You sway and rock and prance around the corner and into the bedroom.

I stand slowly and readjust my now limp penis into the little g-string, my only covering to shield myself form your retribution. Walking through the house to you, I can feel my own nakedness.

I enter the room feeling exposed and vulnerable. I see your top on the bed among a scattered array of sex toys. You stand by the closet facing me, smiling devilishly. You hold a scarf extended between your gloved hands. I can barely make out your naked torso through the dark print of the sheer fabric.

"Take off your clothes."

I hesitate. Self-consciously, I look down at my body, all ready nearly naked. The strip of cloth over my genitals scarcely keeps me hidden.

"Take it off," you insist.

I draw my hands to my waist, and then look at you.


I push the minute garment down slowly to revel in my sense of exposure. I leave the loose tangles of string around my ankles and rise unveiled, revealed to you, given to you without draping. I stand as an offering, naked and submitted to the twisting whims of your sensuous and erotic will.

You look at me with a gleeful leer.

My body cannot hide from my aroused response to your amusement.

"Don't touch," you warn sternly.

You still hold the scarf in front of yourself, but now it's pulled closer, drawn gently over your stiff nipples.

"Face the other way."

You smirk. The brush of your eyes over my bare skin as I turn around is lusciously tantalizing. Then I feel the soft touch of your hair and breast press against my back and the coarser fabric of the skirt rub my butt. You grab my wrists, drawing them behind me. Then you securely tie them behind my back with the scarf.

Holding my bound hands, I feel your warm lips approach my ear. With a slow breathy whisper, you say, "That hard-on is mine, not yours."

You walk around me trailing your dark-clad hand roughly over my round ass and hip. You strut in front of me, high-heeled, short-skirted and topless. You tenderly cup my genitals in your gloved hand and look me in the eye.

"No masturbating."

You step away in front of me to display your own body before me conspicuously. You look at me with delighted triumph, enjoying your dominance, exulting over your mate. Delicately you pinch the zipper of your skirt, dragging it slowly open, like a present to yourself, unwrapping your body for your gratification and creating the marvelous response of your husband's, your prisoner's, your slave's, your toy's stimulation without a touch. Your skirt drops and in your unveiled glory, I rise.

"Kneel." You exhale.

In my restrains, I stumble to comply.

You sit straight at the foot of the bed and beckon me to approach. Your legs are propped upon heels and are open as I approach. When I am within reach, you embrace my head and pull my lips to your naked chest. I lightly, leisurely kiss around one nipple, and then the other. Gradually, I increase my pace and my force, adding suction and light nibbling, soft-lipped bites and moister kisses, teasing each sumptuous tip. You extend your legs around my body and lock them, increasing the contact of my flesh with yours. I feel the soft brushing of your warm pubic bush just below my chest. You wiggle me closer into you. Soon I am devouring the raw flesh of your soft breasts. The feel of the firm supple skin in my mouth excites me. My appetite is whetted for more.

You clamp my head in the warm dark gloves and push my face down. You press me into your body, dragging my lips and tongue over the flesh of your stomach and abdomen. You grind my mouth into your pubic hair until you center my lips over your moist open vulva. Then you forcefully jam my face into your crotch. I slide my tongue deep into your open vagina and slowly withdraw, licking the whole of your inner genitalia, upward toward your prize. Tasting your warm musky saltiness awakens my own desire. I devour you voraciously. You shudder, I lick and suck, eating you fully, through and through, licking your hard clitoris wetly, pressing my face more tightly into your swaying shuddering moaning reverie.

Abruptly, you throw me away from your body.

"Stand up," you say between gasps, walking back up the bead on your hands and feet. You collapse into the pillows at the head of the bed. I stand and watch you shift you body, naked except for the gloves and the heels, beneath my gaze.

Once nestled comfortably in full view, your eyes lock onto mine. You rip off the coarse fabric on your hands and reach to the gaping pouty lips of your mouth. You suck the fingers of your left hand into your mouth. Provocatively you withdraw the saliva-soaked left hand while you suck on the right hand.

Your wet wandering hand finds a naked nipple. Your body releases an uncontrolled and delightful spasm at your touch. Then the fingers of your right hand slide from your mouth, dripping. It finds another nipple for you to manipulate. You close your eyes and massage your nipples, making yourself wetter and wetter. Then your right hand takes a nonchalant but direct path to the wet and waiting folds of dark pink flesh between your spread legs.

I squirm; deeply bothered by my inability to follow the urges of my own primed body reacting to your wanton gratification. I am trapped by your erotic spectacle and cannot indulge myself. My desire builds to even greater intensity because of your display and the restrictions you've placed on my ability to participate, In fact, I am unwilling to free myself of your gripping sex charged bonds.

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