Mistress Beatrix

I coiled the leash in my hand. Yanked her face closer to my pussy.

"Now, what is your task?" I asked.

Holly grinned coyly.

"To make you come, mistress."

"Then what are you waiting for? Do it."

She put her tongue to my clit, filling me immediately with fireworks.

"Yeah, that's it," I moaned as I ground my pussy against her mouth. She licked dutifully. She really knew how to drive a girl crazy. Her tongue was sometimes lithe and loving, and other times, rough and rigid. She also used her mouth prodigiously, sucking on my swollen, clit, and on my pussy lips.

The snow outside had turned into a heavy snowstorm, masking the city like a veil. All the better. I didn't want the marvelous view of New York City to distract me from the mind-blowing nirvana that was Holly's mouth.

I pulled her face tightly against my pussy, and the closer I got to coming, the harder I rode her mouth.

My orgasm was a messy scream. Emphasis on the messy. I gushed all over her face.

"Oh my God," I gasped as I collapsed atop her, trembling. "That. Was wonderful."

"Mmm, I'm glad you enjoyed that, mistress. Do I get a reward?"

"I suppose you've earned it."

I was still gasping for air and collecting my wits. But that didn't stop me from wanting to make her come harder than she ever had in her life.

I had the perfect implement for that. My riding crop was a custom-made gift from a friend. Its handle is a luxurious polished black walnut that gleamed in the bedroom light. It was shaped for a good weight and feel in hand and was thick and smooth enough for the special purpose I had in mind.

I penetrated Holly's pussy with the riding crop handle and slowly pumped it in and out of her as I licked her clit.

She squirmed in her bindings and moaned loudly, pleading with me to go deeper and faster.

"You like that, huh?" I asked as I pumped it faster.

She nodded vigorously.

"Uh-huh!"

Her legs began to tremble, then the rest of her body, as if she were being possessed by an earthquake. I kept going faster, both with my tongue and the riding crop, and her loins kept ratcheting up like a catapult.

"Yes!" She screamed. "Yes, mistress! Please make me come!"

I felt the squeezing orgasm rush through her in coursing, ever growing waves until finally it burst out of her.

"Oh fuck!" she squealed.

I gave her a moment to enjoy the quivering aftershocks. Then, when she had begun her float back down to earth, I began the tender aftermath ritual. I unraveled the ropes from her body. I removed her corset, and the riding crop. I wiped her body clean of sex, sweat, and saliva and when she was in a slightly cleaner states, I doffed my leather lingerie (finally), and slid beside her to kiss and cuddle her. A solemn, silent moment to enjoy the afterglow of an intense orgasm.

Then, when the afterglow faded and the buzzing had mellowed out, we went to shower together. Then we returned to bed to gaze longingly into each other's eyes as we waited for sleep to take us.

To the uninitiated, the compassion, and the feeling of intense, unconditional love that presides in the aftermath of a session can seem like a paradox. But in a good domme/sub partnership, those emotions just overflow. The tender stillness of the refractory following an intense session is one of those weird and wonderful quirks that keeps me hooked on the BDSM lifestyle. Though I had only known her for a few hours, I felt it now with Holly. I felt loving comfort in her eyes like I was home. It was a beautiful high better than any drug can give you.

"Merry Christmas," she whispered as she edged into sleep.

"Merry Christmas," I whispered back. "I'm glad I got to spend it with you."

"I'm glad I got to spend it with you too... mistress."

She smiled and weaved her fingers through mine and squeezed. I squeezed back, shut my eyes, and followed her into a deep, dreamless sleep.

Her flight back to Seattle was late that afternoon, but I didn't want to see her go. I wanted our time together to last forever.

We had a lazy brunch at a place near Lincoln Park I knew to be open on Christmas day, then I went with her to JFK and saw her off at the security gate. She wore a crisp, fashionable suit, looking every part of what she always was.

We didn't kiss at the airport. But she held my hand for a moment, then handed me a business card. "Hey, Bea. I had a lot of fun. Let's keep in touch," she said.

"Yeah. Sure. Let's keep in touch," I replied awkwardly.

I wanted to say, "I'll miss you," but somehow it seemed silly to say now. Whatever special spark there was last night that led to such a hot and beautiful love was no longer there. The gas lamp of our passion seemed to have run out of gas.

It didn't feel like we would keep in touch. It felt more like she had satisfied her adventurous curiosity with me last night and appreciated me for it. Like two ships passing in the night. Two horny ships that each got what we were looking for on a lonely Christmas night.

I stayed and watched her as she made her way through the security gate line. She took a phone call as she shuffled through. Hung it up to put it in the tray as she passed through the detector, then picked it right back up and plastered the phone right back to her face after she was wanded by the TSA officer. Then, she walked off to her gate.

But just before she could get out of sight, with the phone still on her face, she turned back to look for me, as if she had just remembered me. And when she found me, and our eyes met, she lowered the phone and kept her eyes on mine. Her beautiful Marisa Tomei eyes.

She smiled and blew me a kiss then finally melted into the crowd.

It wasn't until I was halfway back home on the Manhattan-bound A train, crawling through the zig-zag rooftops of blue-skied Brooklyn, that I picked up the courage to text her at the number on her business card. I didn't really expect to get a text back from her, but I texted anyways. I needed to, as a sort of closure thing. A short and sweet:

Hi Holly. This is B. Have a safe flight!

I had put a heart emoji at the end of the text but cut it after deciding it was silly, before sending the text.

For an eternity (roughly the time it takes the A train to get to my stop), I stared at the single line of text. In that eternity I never got a response.

Oh well, it was nice while it lasted. We met at a bar and had a crazy night together. That was all it was. How many one-night stands happen in the world every day? Even on Christmas? Especially on Christmas? Millions, I bet. Nothing personal. I tried not to let it bother me. I should be grateful that I got to spend the night with her as opposed to carrying out my original plan. Still, as I stared down at my lonely line of text to her, I couldn't help but feel an emptiness that resounded like a cold gong.

I spent most of the rest of the day wandering around the city listlessly. I listened to music and podcasts while I watched the city continue to churn its incoherent dreams on a beautiful white Christmas day and ended the day by watching the sunset over the Hudson River on Pier 84.

When I got home, I showered, then ordered Chinese, and ate alone, curled up on the couch with a Netflix series on the laptop. Then I went to bed. On the way to sleep, with nothing to distract me, I couldn't help but replay the previous night in my head again and again. I had to cherish the memory as much as possible while I still felt the excitement from it course through me like electricity.

I was already asleep when my phone vibrated. At first, I thought it was the alarm, but as I tried to find the snooze button, I saw through the sleep in my eyes that I had received a new text message. A line of text beneath the one that I had sent to Holly while on the A train hours ago. The best Christmas present I could ever hope for. It read:

Sorry I missed your text earlier. Made it back home safe and sound, but I'm already dying to see my mistress again. Got any plans for New Year's? <3

I might have had a plan for New Years. But I already forgot what it was.

Thank you so much for reading my story. I really appreciate comments, critiques, feedback, or words of encouragement to help me hone my craft. So please leave a comment below, or send me an email! Let me know what you thought of the story.

Now here's a short, thematically appropriate playlist:

It Never Entered My Mind - Miles Davis Quintet

Silent Night - Chet Baker

Claire de Lune - Kamasi Washington

River - Joni Mitchell

The Christmas Song - Teddy Swims

Come Out and Play - Billie Eilish

I hope you enjoy the rest of your day!