Mistress

He woke slowly, groggily, to find his wrists bound and attached to the base of the massive iron headboard. As he tested his restraints, he discovered that there was merely an inch of give, though, thankfully, his fingers were free and he could wiggle them around. His feet were another story: they were attached to what felt like it must be a small spreader bar, maybe two feet in length. He could move a bit and even lift the bar off the mattress, but he wasn’t going to be able to do much else—which was likely exactly what his mistress wanted.

That mistress was currently straddling his thighs, stroking his cock slowly in her petite little hand. To say that he woke up hard would be an understatement: he was currently achingly ready to go. In fact, he slowly began to sense that something was off, and he issued an animalistic growl before trying to formulate anything coherent. “What the fuck is on my balls?” he questioned, amused and a bit horrified.

The voice of his mistress filled the air and he realized then what he had missed: he was blindfolded. The world was pure black noir with not even a fleck of light leaking into its edges. Fuck. He quickly swiped at his bottom lip with the tip of his tongue, then sighed. “What did you do to me, lover?” he asked in a husky tone.

Still stroking his impressive length, she grinned. “I’m waking you up, lover, because it’s time to play.”

He allowed his head to drop back onto the pillow, his breath catching in his throat as she gripped him tightly and stroked his throbbing flesh. “What’s on my balls?”

“A cock ring,” she answered, her voice sweet as candy.

Realizing that restrained as he was he didn’t have much more choice than to lie back and take whatever she was going to dish out, he sighed. He wrapped his fingers around one of the rungs on the headboard and gritted his teeth at the sensations that she was bringing to his body. “What’s it....going to do?” he groaned.

“Hopefully it will help you to get the hardest, most achingly painful erection of your life,” her voice chimed like church bells.

“I think I’m there already,” he laughed nervously. “I feel like my cock is going to break free of my skin.”

“Good,” she taunted. She absolutely loved that he couldn’t see her right now, that he would have to follow her movements based solely off sensations and the sound of her voice. Despite this, she would love to say that she had dressed the part tonight—in a see-through blue latex mini-dress with some truly killer stiletto, stripper heels—but instead she was completely naked so as to waste no time.

She grabbed her long, black leather riding crop in her hand, and gazed up her lover’s beautiful body. With him restrained to the bed, his stunning, heavily tattooed body was laid out in a feast for her eyes. From his muscular shoulders down to his fat, twitching cock, she appreciated every single, delicious inch of him. But she had to snap herself out of her trance, she had to force herself to harness her inner-goddess and turn the tables on her partner. He was much larger than her, easily five-inches taller and physically more domineering that she ever could be, but this game was going to allow her to take control.

So, without further ado, she raised the crop into the air and brought it down right onto the Victorian coffin tattooed on his chest. Had he not been tethered, he would have sat up straight in bed when he screamed, “JESUS!”

“I thought you didn’t believe in him?” she taunted.

He made a noise, something like a strangled snort. “You’re not funny. Jesus Christ, that hurt!”

Lowering the crop down to her favorite part of his body, she chewed on her bottom lip before beginning to issue a series of gentle taps to his balls. “Does that hurt?”

He began testing his restraints again as he groaned. “A little bit,” he confessed but it actually sounded like a strained question to her.

She grinned triumphantly. “What should I do to you next?”

Before he could respond, she climbed off the bed and went to their dresser, where she had left a candle burning. Carefully, she brought it back over to the bed with her, then re-straddled his gorgeous body and ran her free hand up his chest and over his tiny nipples. “I have a surprise for you,” she purred.

“What is it?” he inquired. She watched as his luscious, pale pink lips quirked into a smile. Perhaps it would be considered abnormal or bizarre, but she was obsessed with those plush, wonderfully full and kissable lips.

“I can’t tell you,” she laughed. She inched backward then, so that she was seated just above his kneecaps with his glorious erection right in front of her. She leaned up and over his chest and grinned. “This will definitely hurt, baby.”

As the wax poured down from the candle onto his chest, he drew in a rough breath then let out an animalistic hiss, but his body remained fairly still. When there was no wax left with which to play, she blew out the candle and leaned over to place it safely onto the bedside table. Then, she ran her hands up and down his toned chest, digging the tips of her nails gently into the hardened wax accumulations and spreading them all over his colorful skin.

“Shit,” he hissed. “That felt fucking weird!”

She shrugged, not that he could see it. “You said that you wanted me to take control and surprise you.”

He considered this for a moment, licking his lips once again. “So I did. What are you going to do to me next?”

She took that moment to snatch a little steel implement from the bedside table. With the pinwheel in her hand, she positioned her moist core right over his erection and pressed herself down gently with a loud moan.

“Fuck,” he growled in the back of his throat. “That feels amazing.”

“How about this?” she inquired as she gently pushed the spokes of the Wartenberg pinwheel down into his skin and rolled it up the center of his chest.

A myriad of emotions crossed over his features, but he seemed to settle on curiosity. “What the fuck is that?”

“A Wartenberg wheel,” she laughed.

“A whosenberg what?” he grinned.

She laughed again and dragged the spokes of the object around his left nipple carefully. “It’s a little silver wheel with spikes to excite your tactile response.”

“You’re exciting something,” he smirked as he fidgeted his body beneath her. “And it actually hurts how fucking hard I am right now.”

“I can feel that,” she grinned as she bounced gently to let him know that she was very happy to have her body pressed against his. “And I might have another surprise for you!”

Unable to move, he did his best to shrug his shoulders. “Oh?”

She reached down, holding his cock delicately before lowering herself onto him and sinking downward slowly.

“Holy shit,” he sighed hungrily. “That feels fucking amazing.”

She moved her hips in a slow circle as she sank all the way down, allowing his entirety to fill her body to bursting. Not that he could see anything she was doing, but she grabbed her breasts in her hands and squeezed roughly as she placed her body fully down onto his. “Fuck,” she moaned softly. “You are perfect!”

Out of reflex, he went to reach for her hips to direct her movements, then met with resistance on his wrists and groaned. “Shit, babe. I can’t touch you!”

“That’s kind of the point,” she giggled.

He continued trying to twist himself just so in order to increase sensation, but he was bound too tightly. Frustrated, he gritted his teeth and then ultimately made a noise of defeat. “Please,” he pleaded in a soft voice. “Move, do something, do anything. Make me fucking cum!”

Atop him, she began to ride him at a painfully languid pace, running her delicate hands over his chest and slowly removing all of the wax pieces. She purred and made noises of pleasure, but she spoke not a single word.

He felt his muscles tensing, needing something more or a faster pace. He growled. “Baby, please? Faster! Fuck me faster!”

At this, she slowed her pace but began to twirl two of her fingers over her clit in a languid circle. She arched her back into her own touch, leaning her head back and allowing her long hair to dust across his legs.

He groaned in frustration. “Fucking hell, baby.” His voice was turning toward a growl the slower she moved. “Please, baby, fuck me harder!”

“Call me your mistress!” she taunted as she continued the brutally slow pace of her movements.

He actually had the audacity to chuckle at this, wrapping his tattooed fingers around the headboard and trying to piston his hips upward. “Mistress,” he smirked, “please fuck me faster! You’re killing me here. I’m so close, I just need that little bit more. Mistress, please?”

Ignoring him, she continued her fancy finger-work, only gyrating her hips at a minimum to make sure that he stayed painfully hard and ready inside her. The more he pleaded, the slower she moved until she was finally able to bring herself to orgasm. The visual of having his body laid out beneath her—the frustration apparent on his beautiful features, and the beauty of seeing his wrists bound and his helplessness—helped propel her release to new heights, and as she tossed her head back she felt her body’s fluid release as she screamed out his name.

When she climbed off his length, he let out a disappointed growl. “Fuck, Mistress,” he tossed his head side to side, as if trying to see her. “I need it, I’m so close. Please, mistress?”

“No,” was all she said as she leaned down and began to lick her juices from his chest.