Picked Up

"Let's go then," she said, and he was tugged to his feet again. He was led around for a while, into another room, and pushed gently onto a bed. The leash dropped, his hands were unfastened from each other, and there was a long pause while she moved around the room, doing God knows what. Finally, he felt a tug on his leash, drawing him to what he assumed was the center of the bed and gentle hands laid him back and positioned him the way she wanted him. He was shivering again in anticipation, his mind giving him hundreds of possibilities for what could happen.

She tied his feet up first, giving him plenty of chance to escape if he wanted to, but he lay where she'd put him, his only movement his trembling. She must have had a four-poster bed, as his legs were tied spread-eagle with very little slack. Then his wrists were fastened similarly, only the rope was through the cuffs not around his wrists. The leash was unhooked, though the collar was left on.

"I'll be right back," she said, giving him a gentle kiss on the very tip of his cock and making him thrust as much as his bonds would permit. He struggled with them for one frustrated moment, before settling down again. Her laugh drifted off as she left the room.

He tugged on each bond carefully, testing to see how strong they were and make sure that he wouldn't be able to get free and settled down again serenely. He was past the fear now, past the worry, and just enjoying the ride. His senses were so heightened that he almost didn't miss seeing. The silence stretched on, and he wondered where she'd gone. Maybe sight would be nice, so that he could tell where she was, but he didn't say anything. He just waited. Something told him she'd be back eventually. Maybe this was even punishment for not cooling down when she'd wanted him to.

She returned, after how long he didn't know. There were gentle clinks, like she was setting something glass or metal down. He wondered what she was up to. "Mistress, may I ask what you're planning?"

"You're a quick study," she said approvingly. "I'm planning a little dessert before we finish here tonight."

"Dessert?" he asked, voice trembling. She laughed.

"You'll like it," she promised. He heard her doing something, and couldn't identify the sounds. "I'm planning on having a hot fudge Sunday."

"Hot fudge?" he asked, trying to focus on what she was saying. "That does sound good. May I have some too?" She laughed softly.

"If you ask politely," she said, and he felt something cold and wet touch his stomach. He jumped and gasped. "Stay still, otherwise my Sunday will fall, and I'll be quite upset," she warned, and he stopped trying to squirm away from the cold. Well, mostly. The next two scoops of what he assumed were ice cream were further down his stomach, until the last one slid right up to his cock and made him gasp and jump again. She gave a disappointed click of her tongue, and suddenly he felt her straddle his chest, facing away from him and towards dessert.

She was wet, and the heat of her pussy against his collarbone completely distracted him from what she was doing. He picked his head up and pressed his lips against one of the globes of her, kissing it as eagerly as he would have her lips. She gave an approving hum and moved back a little to give him better access. He whimpered and squirmed under her weight as the hot fudge was added, not hot enough to burn just hot enough to make him squirm. When some of it dribbled onto his cock, he almost bit her ass in surprise, and moaned loudly.

"Whipped cream?" she asked, and it took him a moment to realize she was talking to him.

"Please," he moaned, and she moved a little before resettling herself and shaking the can of whipped cream. 'Jeez,' he thought as she shook the can. 'I'll never be able to look at a Sunday the same way again.' The thought was cut off with her spraying whipped cream in lazy swirls from one of his nipples to the other, around his belly button, all over his balls, and up the length of his cock. He shook and tried not to spill the melting Sunday. A cherry (or what he assumed was a cherry) was the finishing touch, added on the whipped cream at the tip of his cock.

Then she started eating her Sunday, without bothering with a spoon. She leaned forward and dragged her tongue along the lazy swirls of whipped cream, teasing his nipples in the process, making sure to suck all of the whipped cream off of his chest. He felt her pussy hovering over his mouth, and stuck his tongue out trying to taste her, but she was too far away. He groaned again, and her mouth moved lower. His cock was jerking again, and he thought he might cum before she even touched him. After a few minutes of her eating her Sunday off of his stomach, she paused.

"How silly of me, I forgot to ask if you wanted any," she said, turning around and sitting down on his stomach after drawing a finger through the sticky mess there.

"I'd love some," he panted, not really talking about ice cream. She laughed softly.

"Then some you shall have," she told him, and slipped a finger into his mouth. The sweet taste of vanilla ice cream and chocolate and whipped cream met his tongue, and another taste that he couldn't identify but loved instantly. Hell, he'd have loved just about anything as long as she fed it to him. This, though, was really good, and he sucked hard on her fingers to get all of the juices off, already wanting more.

"Please, Mistress, may I have some more?" he asked, when she pulled her fingers out of his mouth. "Please?" She didn't respond, just repositioned herself again, feeding him a bite of ice cream and hot fudge this time, allowing him to suck it all off of her fingers again before the next bite.

"Is it good?" she asked, and he moaned around her fingers in agreement. He still wasn't sure what that strange flavor was, but it really was great. "More?" she asked, and he would have begged, except he didn't want to let her fingers out of his mouth for that long. She gave a faint laugh, and he felt her shift on the bed again, before his nose encountered something wet. He had expected more ice cream, but instead, it looked like she was sitting on his face, feeding him her pussy instead. He flicked his tongue to her clit, and had the satisfaction of hearing her give a contented murmur of delight. He went at it like a starving man, eating her out as well as he could with his hands tied. He tugged ineffectively at the bonds, and she gave a short, breathless laugh.

"Mmmm, that's it," she purred at him. "Let me ride that tongue." He was more turned on then he could ever remember being before in his life, and moaned almost continuously into her pussy. That was the strange taste, the taste of her juices mixing into the ice cream. He loved it.

He nearly screamed when she leaned forwards and he felt her lips suck off a blob of rapidly cooling fudge. Her tongue laved his skin, taking as much of the melting ice cream as she could get along with it. She slowly, torturously, ate her ice cream Sunday, making him jump and writhe with every teasing touch of lips or tongue. He nearly came on the spot when she nipped his hip, giving a strangled scream of delight. He licked and sucked furiously, as if by his enthusiasm he could make her give him a little relief. When she finally did drag her tongue up the underside of his cock, his entire body shook with the effort of holding off his orgasm.

"Such a good boy," she purred at him, teasing him again with a light touch of her tongue on his cock. "Don't cum, not yet." Hearing her say that only made it harder for him to hold back, and he squirmed, sucking hard on her clit. She cleaned his cock off with the same teasing strokes of her tongue, driving him higher and higher until he wasn't sucking on her anymore, he was panting with the effort of holding back his orgasm.

"Now, cum for me," she whispered, and he screamed with the force of it. His hips arched off the bed, and he seemed to cum forever. Finally, he drifted down again from the bliss she'd given him, twitching every now and then with aftershocks.

"Thank you, Mistress," he whispered, and he meant it.

She permitted him to shower again, though he had to leave the blindfold on while he did, and she didn't join him this time. It wasn't until he was clean and dried off that what they'd done caught up with him, and made him freeze. He hesitated for a long time before finding the collar that was on the sink and putting it back on. He'd have to think about what this meant, both for him and to him, but later.

The trip back to the bar was a silent one, him still blindfolded, and her clearly lost in her own thoughts. He was pleased that he was still aloud to wear the collar. For some reason it made him feel special. He did his best to not think about everything they'd done that night, just continue to live in the moment, but the moment was slipping away. Real life was beginning to intrude. Finally, after what seemed like a much shorter drive then the route they'd used to get to her apartment (though that could have been sexual frustration making time seem strange) he felt the car stop.

"Okay, I have one last thing I want you to do," she told him as they sat there in the car. "I want you to leave that blindfold on for a while. Count to 50 slowly, and then you can take it off and do whatever you want with the rest of your night."

"Will I see you again?" he asked hesitantly.

"Maybe," she said, and he could hear a faint smile in her voice. "I come to this bar quite a bit. You were a lot of fun to play with, so I might even take you home with me again." He smiled happily at that, and she got out of the car. He heard her open his door and hastily unbuckled his seat belt, but waited for her to guide him to his feet. She gave him one last, lingering kiss on the lips before hooking a finger in his collar and leading him to what he assumed was a safe place. Then she was gone, heals clicking back towards his car. He heard it start to run again, and started counting slowly, all the way to 50 even though she would have no way of knowing if he'd done it or not. Then he sighed and took off the blindfold.

He walked home with the collar and the blindfold in his pocket, still forcing the memories of the night into the back of his mind. He reached his apartment, and was unlocking the door, when he realized that he didn't have his tie anymore. He grinned, and all of the memories came flooding back. He sat down on his couch, reliving all of it. It brought a silly smile to his face and his cock to attention again, but he made no move to touch it just yet. He wondered if it would please her either way, if he jacked off to the fantasies that night had inspired or if he stopped himself, and decided it would be better to wait. Who knew? Maybe she'd be at the bar tomorrow? His smile grew, and he started imagining all the wonderful things she might do to him the next time, if she chose to pick him up again.