Masquerade

Michelle and John were still at the kitchen table, after having had their supper, in heated discussion about a masquerade party they were to attend that night.

“Honey,” he said placatingly, “we’re both to blame. We knew the damn party was coming up and neither one of us took enough interest to think about renting costumes. Is there any way we can fake it with stuff we have around here?”

“What did you have in mind?” she asked sarcastically. “Do you want to do the old oil sheik trick again using one of the bed sheets?”

“Nah, I guess we can’t pull that stunt two years in a row.”

“No,” she said affirmatively. “You as the oil sheik and me as the tart isn’t going to cut it two years in a row.”

“Maybe not,” he said, “but you sure caused a stir last year dressed the way you were. Maybe you can improve on that theme.”

Brightening, she responded, “You’re right. They ate it up, didn’t they? There’s nothing like a little eroticism to turn a room on its collective ear. I suppose I could get sexy with what I have, but what are we going to do about you?”

An idea flashed in John’s mind. It was outrageous, he knew, but their friends thought of the couple as being racy and, he admitted, he liked the reputation. “Suppose I just wear my underwear and go as your love slave?”

Michelle laughed at first, then stopped for a moment and thought about it. Actually, she considered, that really could be a good idea. Their friends wouldn’t be disappointed and, besides, they’d probably have a lot of fun.

“That’s not half bad,” she said. “I’ll wear my leather mini, seamed black stockings and I’ll make sure my garters show from time to time. The patent leather black spikes would fit right in, too. And, to really make them stand up and notice, I’ll only wear a black bra... no blouse, just the push-up bra. Okay so far?”

“Yeah, but you’ve gotta add those shoulder-length gloves of yours, lots of make-up, your costume jewelry... you know, the whole nine yards.”

A couple of hours later, Michelle was erotically, mind-bendingly in costume. Her five-feet, seven inches – made taller by her spike heels – clad in the black garments and only the black bra put a bulge in John’s undershorts, his only apparel.

Michelle struck a provocative pose and said, “Well, I see my love slave is behaving and reacting in the proper manner for his mistress. This outfit turns you on, huh?”

He fingered his erection and responded, “Yeah, but how do I handle this at the party? Outrageous is one thing – this is something else. I can’t be walking behind you all night with a hard-on.”

“You’re right,” she said, “you can’t. But the idea of you going in just your underwear is still a good one. How about changing out of those bikinis and into a pair of boxer shorts. I can tie your cock down with a scarf so that it snuggles neatly against your leg.”

John had a curious look on his face as he approved her plan. “Okay, it’s worth a try. I suppose the bulkiness of the boxers will allow for it.”

Michelle scooped a scarf from the dresser, took John’s penis in hand, and wrapped the scarf around it once before bringing the loose ends around his thigh and tying it. She then pulled up his boxers to see how it looked. She was pleased. There was only a hint of his rigid penis outline; tantalizing, but not too provocative.

Playfully, she slapped his shorts over the cock and said, “There you go, love slave. Your hard-on will be a secret only we two will share.”

“Great. But now that you’ve got it all tied up, I want you more than ever. Let’s fool around a bit before we go.”

“Not on a bet,” she said. “I’ve just spent a lot of time putting together this look and I won’t have it ruined that quickly. But,” she teased, “if you obey me tonight I might let you have you way later on.”

John and Michelle made their way downstairs. At the kitchen door, Michelle observed that the mistress and love slave act, to go over properly, needed refinement. His following her in his underwear didn’t quite cut it.

John had the answer right away. He hurried down to the basement, rummaged around a bit, then returned with the collar and leash they’d used for their old dog. He also brought Michelle’s riding crop, the one she’d used when the equestrian bit was the in-thing with their crowd. He handed her all three.

“Perfect!” she exclaimed. “Here, let me put the collar around your neck. Ooooo, it fits beautifully. And now I’ll just clip the leash onto it. There, you’re leashed like the slave you are and if you misbehave, I’ll use this whip on you.”

John reacted immediately to her words. His cock was harder than ever. He didn’t quite comprehend why he was more turned on than he thought he ever would be... but he was. And Michelle was fabulous! The leather skirt, the high heels and the deep-plunging bra made him weak in the knees. Did her being dressed that way and having him collared have anything to do with this? Her threat to use the riding whip on him, although in jest, caused a deep-rooted pang of sexual longing.

And then he realized it. John WANTED her to whip him! He wanted to be in bondage to her.

Now, how in the world could he tell her those thoughts? How could he admit that what they were doing right now was the utmost in sexual excitement?

Instead he said, “Michelle, you were right about the props. They seem to make a world of difference. But, before we go, maybe we better practice some of the theatrics of this thing so that we look that much more convincing.”

Michelle, while putting the collar around his neck and attaching the leash, felt a shudder of pure longing rampage through her body. Dressed the way she was, she felt like a goddess – erotic and desired – whose right it was to have a sex slave, a slave like John. Just the thought of actually using her whip on him made her flush.

“You’re right,” she said. “If we’re going to win first prize, we not only have to look the part, we have to play it. Let’s go into the living room and practice.”

She walked ahead of him, holding her end of the leash, as he followed on the tether.

“My slave should never stand taller than me, his mistress. Perhaps you’d better down on your hands and knees and we’ll practice your crawling behind me.” With that, she imperiously pointed to the floor with her crop and John went to his knees. Taking a firm hold on the leash, tightening the slack, Michelle led him on his hands and knees around the circumference of the room. When she stopped, John remained on all fours and she sat on his back.

“This is good,” she said. “I can use you as my chair wherever we are in the party room. Is that good theatrics?” she asked.

John had difficulty answering her question, but he eventually go to it. “Yes,” he said, “that’s a perfect start. And for the purpose of scripting, you should probably be calling me ‘slave’ and I should be answering ‘Mistress’. How does that sound, Mistress?”

“Perfect, slave. You will address me as Mistress throughout this evening.”

“Yes, Mistress.”

She rose from his back and lead him to where she sat on the sofa, crossing her legs. “Slave, that bondage and discipline video we saw a while ago had the mistress getting her shoes kissed and licked by her slave. I want my feet worshiped, too.”

John looked up at her for a moment with eyes that spoke volumes. His thankfulness that Michelle had read him correctly and that she herself was also affected by this game almost made him weep. He bent his head and kissed her shoes, licking them all over and even going so far as to lick the outsides of her heels. Michelle, still holding the leash attached to the collar around his neck, tilted her crossed foot, aimed her spiked heel directly at his mouth and said, “Suck it, slave.”

John obeyed, wrapping his lips around the heel she’d aimed at him. He sucked and licked it with enthusiasm while his cock throbbed in its bondage.

The intensity of John’s worship didn’t escape Michelle. She saw him getting increasingly worked up. And it excited her, too. Perhaps, she thought, this was just the spark the couple needed in their love life.”

“Stop, slave,” she said. “You’re enjoying my leather too much. Besides, I just had a great idea. Stay on your knees where you are. I’ll be right back.”

Michelle seductively strolled away from him, aware that she was breathing hard, and went up to the bedroom. Pausing for just a moment before her make-up table, she thought about this amazing turn of events and how much she liked it. She picked up an old tube of lipstick and went back to the living room. Showing John what she had, she said: “To really make this an effective and believable masquerade, I thought I’d paint some welts over your thighs and lower back with this old lipstick to simulate the marks of a whipping. What do you think, slave?”

“Full points for inventiveness, Mistress. Welts would make a perfect addition. But do you know what a welt from your riding crop would look like on my skin?”

“Well, I’ve go the basic idea,” she said. “But, no, I don’t really. Any suggestions, slave?”

“Perhaps, Mistress, you might use your crop on me a few times to see what happens. Then you can use the lipstick to trace over them a draw a few more.”

Michelle had been hoping for an excuse to come along. Ever since she’d put the collar around his neck and held the crop, she’d wanted to whip him. “Very well, slave,” she said. “Crawl up to the couch and lay your chest across the cushions. Stay on the floor and get your ass up as high as you can.”

John hurried to comply. He couldn’t believe how much he wanted his wife to dominate, humiliate and punish him. All he knew was that he needed to obey and suffer for her... Right now.

Michelle took a position behind her husband, pulled his boxers down to his knees, and raised the crop. She paused for a moment before bringing it down over his lower thighs. John gasped, but before he had a chance to react further, Michelle struck again. This time he moaned. His wife used the whip on him three more times before stopping.

“That’s enough, slave,” she said. “I’ve got a good idea now of how to paint on the rest of your welts.” She paused, then sounding alluring and mysterious, said, “Or perhaps I should forget the lipstick and just keep on using my whip.”

John turned on his knees from the chesterfield, put his head down to her shoes and licked both before saying: “Thank you for whipping me, Mistress. If you decide to make my welts real, that is your prerogative.”

Michelle loved it. She loved putting her marks on his ass and thighs with the whip and she adored seeing him lick her shoes in gratitude. And she was still ecstatic knowing she’d tied his cock to his leg.

“Slave,” she asked, “how would you feel about not going to the party tonight?”

“That would be wonderful, Mistress,” he responded.

They understood one another.

“Then let’s try for a few more of those beautiful wells, slave. And just so there’s absolutely no confusion, I’ll be using my whip and not the lipstick to them on you. Get back into position.”

“Yes, Mistress.”

Holding his leash in the palm of her left hand, she used her right to flog. Starting on the fleshy part of his legs just above the knees, and working her way up to the top of his ass. Michelle didn’t want to use the crop on his back because she knew it would be too cruel and instrument now for such a sensitive portion of anatomy.

John was squirming, trying to avoid or, at least, to soften the impact of her blows.

Michelle, in a cunning and shrewd stroke of brilliance, said: “Slave, if you keep trying to avoid my whip, I’ll never use it on you again. Do you really understand what that means?”

He settled down, promising to remain still. She flogged longer than she’d intended. At first, she simply enjoyed using the whip. But, as it progressed, she began to feel the physiological changes, changes that took her from being an enthusiastic Dominatrix to being one very turned-on lady.

John’s ass welted when she stopped. Still holding the leash, she used the crop to point to her feet. John bent his head and kissed her shoes, his tears rolling down his cheeks and onto her leather.

“Thank me for your punishment, slave,” she softly commanded.

John complied, going further by saying, “Mistress, you’ve brought to life my most secret sexual fantasy. Thank you.”

“Up until tonight, I hadn’t thought much about domination, slave. But, I must admit, I love having you naked and on the end of my leash. And I love whipping you. Your cock is still hard, slave, and that tells me I wasn’t nearly strict enough. But I’ll make up for it next time.”

“Thank you, Mistress.”

Michelle reached to his groin, untying the scarf bound around his thigh and releasing his penis. It sprang to full attention. She had him stand, turn around and put his hands behind his back. Using the leash, the new mistress tied her slave’s wrists high on his back so that they were out of the way while being attached to his collar. Grasping his cock in her hand, she used it like a handle to pull him upstairs.

In the bedroom, Michelle had John lie atop the bed. Milking him for a moment, she said: “Keep it up for me, slave. I plan on riding both of us off at least three times tonight.”

She removed her leather skirt, pulled down her panties and approached wearing only the garter belt, stockings, bra, gloves and high heels. Getting on the bed, she fondled his genitals before positioning herself above him and then slowly slid his member inside her. Rocking atop him, Michelle’s climax fast approached. She reached down to his chest and twisted his nipples between her fingers. His moans of “yes, yes” told her that he was enjoying it as much as she.

They both came. Explosively!

Michelle stayed where she was, exhausted, his cock still inside her. Soon, it lost its erection and slipped out. Re-gaining her strength, she moved astride him so that her knees were on either side of his face and her crotch was directly atop his mouth.

“Lick me, slave. Suck and swallow our love juices,” she commanded, as she took her crop in hand to reinforce the demand.

Later, after he’d been released and they were having a drink downstairs, he asked at what point she got turned on to domination. She admitted she liked the idea from moment he’d made the costume suggestion. But, she said, that it truly began when she saw her erotic image in the bedroom mirror. The feeling was confirmed, she said, when she buckled the collar around his neck and held the whip in her hands.

Looking at him over the edge of the glass of wine she was sipping, Michelle said, “I’m not sorry we missed the masquerade party. It gave us a whole new understanding of one another. But your idea for costuming and poise is still a good one. Between now and next year, I’m sure I can find even more startling clothing to wear in my role. And, for the next 12 months, we’re going to be doing an awful lot of practicing on how a slave responds and reacts to his mistress.

“Get back down on your knees.”