Long Is The Way Ch. 02

The smell of thick latex rubber overwhelmed him as Owen was cast into darkness. Only stray bits of light peeked into his world as Mistress shimmied her ass back and forth on his features. Elizabeth began reading her book and Owen was left alone with his thoughts. That and the constant pressure of her succulent, smothering ass cheeks.

Getting some air was possible, because Elizabeth didn't have a huge bottom. Yet as she turned page after page, she used every square inch of her ass to full effect. If Owen didn't make any noise or rattle his bindings for a while, she would slide back and forth until she'd centered his face in her darkness and pressed down harshly. Eventually, his lungs would start to struggle and Owen would grunt while yanking his chained wrists and ankles.

This would result in a brief reprieve as Elizabeth lifted herself from the chair. After a few breaths, she dropped her dumper back on Owen and ground against his face anew. This went on for at least a half hour as Elizabeth read a couple chapters in one of her favorite books. Occasionally she'd reach down and tap his body all over with her crop. Gentle swats and pats to his cock, balls, chest and thighs, but nothing with any real force.

Owen's frustration grew as she sat on his face relentlessly. He groaned into her fleshy, rubber-clad depths, pining for pain play. This evening had been his first taste of true submission in a long time. In recent years, he'd become accustomed to service tops giving him what he wanted outright, but Elizabeth wasn't having it. She'd demanded his full obedience and he was giving it willingly. From below her pressing cheeks, Owen pondered if any other woman could ever inspire in him this level of devotion.

* * * * *

*WHIPCRACK WHIPCRACK WHIPCRACK*

Elizabeth's whip bit into his scarred back muscles. The loud thwacks echoed off her basement walls as Owen writhed in her wooden stocks. She was going fairly hard, but all she'd coaxed from him so far were some light grunts and groans. That was after a long round of spankings to both ass cheeks, some attention from her flogger, and now the full, long cracks of her signal whip.

He was a pain slut alright. She'd been correct to skip her beginner whip and go straight to something moderate. Now, Elizabeth knew she could go harder. Next time she'd employ something much more harsh, like her Black Snake or Bullwhip. For now, she would just lean into it even more and show him what a short whip could do.

*WHIPCRACK WHIPCRACK WHIPCRACK*

Owen moaned as the red and black braided cord lashed into the left and right sides of his back. She knew exactly what she was doing. Alternating her strokes and staying away from the spine as she covered every inch of his flesh in delicious agony.

*WHIPCRACK WHIPCRACK*

Two ripping strikes laced into his bottom, one for each glute. They were already swollen red with over eighty spanks from her metal studded paddle. Owen's ass and legs shook as his arms pulled pointlessly on the sturdy wooden headboard. The only thing that would've made it better was being gagged, but it seemed she wasn't willing to go that far during their first session. Elizabeth wanted nothing impeding his use of a safeword during their first round of heavy discipline.

Even so, the pain was exquisite. Despite her use of a basic whip, her skillful strokes were sending him to soaring heights. His endorphins rushed, his flesh burned and his cock hardened below as she belted him over and over again. Owen's pleasured murmurs were practically begs for more. He moaned loudly as another round of strikes sank into his inflamed skin.

*WHIPCRACK WHIPCRACK WHIPCRACK WHIPCRACK WHIPCRACK*

Elizabeth decided to giver her arm a rest. She coiled the whip around her neck and sauntered to Owen's side, taking in a more complete view of his predicament. A giddy laugh escaped her lips in between panted breaths. She observed him bent over in the stocks, his bruised body writhing in perverse pleasure while his cock drooled pre-cum to the cement floor.

Within her, something more than the rush of domination surfaced. A desire to give him MORE. More than he asked for. More than he could ever want. She wanted to hear him sing with submissive glee. To show him the greatest Earthly delights came only from loyal service at her feet. To make him as addicted to the worship of her body and obedience to her commands as he soon would be to her implements of pain.

Her hands rested on her hips as she watched Owen perspire and shiver in the cool air of her dungeon. Elizabeth let him bask in the agony of her last five strokes a while as she caught her breath and her heartbeat slowed. Eventually, she pulled the whip from her shoulders and moved back to his exposed rear.

"Alright, slave! A few questions before we finish tonight. If you want me to continue, you'd better answer them truthfully."

"Yes, Mistress!" he called from the front, sweat dripping from his brow and chin.

Elizabeth sliced her whip through the air, its thick strand whistling loudly. "Are you seeing anyone else regularly? Any other Domme?"

"No, Madam Elizabeth!"

*SCHHNNNNAAAAPPPPPP*

The full length of the signal whip blasted into his bottom, searing both ass cheeks with a deep bite.

"ARRRGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!" His body shook and the stocks rattled.

"Good. Keep it that way! You will see no one else while you serve me! Next question. In our first meeting, did you have any sexual thoughts about me?"

"Uhhhh... I...."

"The truth, slut!"

"Yes..."

"I knew it."

*WHIPCRACK WHIPCRACK WHIPCRACK WHIPCRACK*

Four fresh lashes scorched his quivering, lacerated back. Owen bit his lip and hummed in bliss, his groans escaping through quick inhales of much needed oxygen. His body glistened and convulsed as his nervous system throbbed with delightful suffering.

"Finally. Did you fantasize about me being your Domme? Pleasure yourself thinking about it?"

".....Yes. Yes, Mistress!"

Elizabeth set her whip aside and took up her heavy paddle once more. She crossed back to his flayed bottom and wound up her arms like she was about to hit a home run out of the park.

*SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK*

Owen jolted forward in his wood and metal bondage as her hardest blows of the night walloped his burning cheeks. His bruised flesh rippled with impact as spittle flew from his mouth and he gasped in euphoric wonder. When her sixth and final blow landed, Owen was on cloud nine.

Elizabeth tossed her paddle aside and it clattered to the floor. She circled to his front, put one hand on her hip and raised the other to his head. She grabbed a fistful of his hair and locked her eyes on his. Owen's face was sweaty and slack, his eyes glassy with pain-wracked bliss. He was putty in her hands.

"When you get home tonight, I allow you to have ONE climax. No more. And you will think only of me and your experience tonight, while you do so. After that, you will remain chaste until our next session. Is that clear, slave?"

"Ahhh.." He grunted as he tried to clear his dripping throat and nose of mucus. "Yes.. Yes, Mistress Long!"

She relaxed her grip on his hair and ran her latex fingers through his sweaty locks a few times. She reached down and caressed his face smoothly, bringing his overstimulated psyche back to Earth with gentle rubs.

"Good boy."

* * * * *

After a first aid check, a little massage and a brief after-scene chat, she and Owen said their goodbyes. Three hours had passed in the blink of an eye. It didn't seem possible, but the first kinky meeting of ex-therapist and patient was over. The thrill of domination had faded from Elizabeth's latex locked form.

She set her copy of Wuthering Heights on the console table by the front door. The tired Domme looked out the window and watched Owen walk down the dimly lit path back to his car. She was almost done with her recent reading of the 1847 classic. It had been one of her favorite books since high school. Why not bring it home and finish it tonight?

Elizabeth was dying for a shower, but she continued looking into the gloom until she heard an engine roar to life and saw his headlights turn on. She never watched her clients leave with this much interest, but she was this time. Was she being a fool? Was this affair as doomed as the great literary tragedies of the past?

Her mind cried out in warning, but her heart beat all the louder, drowning out all admonition and filling Elizabeth with life and hope. The fatigued Femdom glanced down at Emily Bronte's seminal novel. Her gaze returned to the window as Owen's car backed out and drove off into the night.

'Whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same.'