Under Her Thumb, page 5
“Do you know what BDSM is?” I asked him, licking and scraping my teeth over his nipples.
“Sure, I’ve seen it on the Internet. Why? Do you want me to do that stuff to you; tie you up and stuff?”
“No, Tom,” I said. I bit down on his nipple and he arched his back, pushing his groin against me and groaning. I smiled at him. “No, sweetie. I’m going to do that stuff to you.” I felt his cock jump against me as I pushed him back against the bed.
“But I never did—I mean, I don’t think…”
“Relax C L, you’ll love it,” I said, pushing myself into a sitting position atop his hips and toying with his cock. I held it against my lace-covered cunt and rubbed it against myself.
That night I introduced him to a few toys: clothespins for his nipples, which turned his cock into a leaky faucet; a padded leather paddle for his perfect runner’s butt, which pinked up nicely with a few gentle swats, and a blindfold for sex. The blindfold seemed to make the biggest impression on him. Bigger, even, than the clothespins.
I tied his wrists to the bed with scarves, figuring I’d save the actual leather cuffs until he was a bit more comfortable with the whole idea. Once his hands were immobilized, I introduced the blindfold. His breathing sped and his head snapped to me every time I moved or made a sound. He jumped when I scratched at his nipples with my fingernails and jumped again when I lowered my mouth to his cock and swirled my tongue around its head. When I pulled on his balls he moaned and pushed his groin into my hands.
“Oh, you like that, do you?” I gently smacked his cock with my free hand. He sucked in a breath and his cock jerked but stayed hard. I smacked it a little harder, fascinated to see how his body would react.
“Mother fucker,” he yelled, but thrust himself toward me at the same time. He bit his upper lip.
“Like that, too, huh?” I asked. I lowered my mouth to him again. Again, he jumped but then relaxed.
“Jesus Christ, this is fucking unreal,” he said.
“Oh, honey, this is nothing. Just you wait,” I said, pulling the blindfold off. “I have such plans for you.” Without untying his wrists, I smoothed a condom on him and pushed my panties to the side as I slid onto him, taking him in to the root, grinding hard against him.
The sex, while short, was good. I knew he wouldn’t be able to last very long after my getting him that excited, but that was all right; we’d work on it. I left him tied to the bed while I removed the filled condom and cleaned him up. “Are you seeing anyone,” I asked.
“No,” he said. “Just you, if you want to.”
“When’s your next run?”
“Saturday afternoon. Why?”
It was Thursday. Who knew if either of us would be any good at work tomorrow, but who cared, really? It would be Friday, anyway. I got off the bed and went over to the dresser to retrieve a box. “I have a present for you,” I said, opening the box and taking out the chastity device. Before he could say anything, or see what I held, I snapped it onto his now-flaccid cock and balls. I closed the little plastic lock and showed him the key, which I put inside a little ornate box on the bedside table.
“I told you I’d lock it up for you. By the way, I never got to come. Do you think that’s right? You think it’s right that you get to come, and I don’t?”
His mouth formed an O. “Oh, shit. Sorry! I didn’t mean to, um, you want me to, I mean I could eat you, or something.” He grinned his best cute-little-boy grin and cocked his head. “You want to untie my hands?”
“No, that’s Okay.” I leaned back away from him and took my bra off, then removed my panties. “I can do it.” On my knees, between his legs, I began to masturbate. I was already wet from our earlier games and from putting him in chastity, so my finger slipped inside easily. I pumped it in and out a few times before adding a second finger, pumping them both more vigorously, making that wet, sucking, slurping sound.
He pulled his knees up and humped the air. Unfortunately, there was no way for him to get hard while wearing the device. In fact, the act of arousal was a bit painful, I would imagine. I could tell he wanted to touch himself, but his hands were restrained. And, of course, I knew that even if he’d had use of them, it wouldn’t have done him any good. The device wouldn’t allow his fingers inside. He was locked up tight, but he’d easily be able to bathe and attend to business, although peeing would be much easier and far less messy sitting down. Ah, well, he’d find that out on his own. Just the thought made me squeeze my breast and pinch the nipple before bringing the hand down to circle my clit while the other hand pumped inside. The more I thought about his arousal, the louder the little obscene noises coming from my pussy got. The louder the noises got, the more tortured he looked, poor baby. When he gave a strangled cry, I came. It was a nice, long orgasm with lots of little after-quakes; just the release I needed.
I removed my fingers from my cunt and held them under his nose before pushing them into his mouth. He closed his eyes and sucked on them, wrapping his tongue between and around them, cleaning every little bit of come off them before I withdrew them and untied his wrists.
“Wow, that was fucking amazing,” he said. He reached between his legs to explore the device attached to his genitals. “Mind if I look?” he asked.
“Of course not, be my guest,” I replied, smiling.
He jumped off the bed and walked over to the full-length mirror by my closet. He turned this way and that and humped the air, looking at the chastity cage. He ran his fingers over it again and whistled. “That’s pretty cool.” He looked up and smiled at me. “So, Okay, take it off.”
“No, Cocky Locky. You’ll remain locked up all tomorrow and through the run on Saturday. That way, you can be sure that your junk won’t fall out of your shorts again.”
“But, I don’t wear those shorts anymore,” he said.
“Be that as it may, you’re going to remain locked up until I release you. You can call me from the bar, at the end of the run, and I’ll meet you there. Does that sound good?” He gave me a look. “Well, whatever. It won’t come off until Saturday—if I take it off then. We’ll see.” He gasped. “Here,” I handed him his underwear and pants. “Put these on.”
Looking at me the whole time, he stepped into his underwear and gingerly pulled them up, then did the same with his jeans. When he was dressed, I put my clothes back on, too.
“See, no one can tell you’re wearing it. You’ll be fine.” I stepped in for a kiss and grabbed his ass, shoving myself against his crotch. “Call me tomorrow night, after work.” With a final kiss, I let him out the door. “Get home safe,” I said.
That night I thought of all the fun we could have. We could have our own hash, maybe a sort of scavenger-hunt hash. I could set the trail with lots of stops along the way for him to pick up little fun items, or perform small tasks, with the run ending here, or maybe a bar where he’d have to show me what he found, or maybe… Now, that orgasm was truly mind-blowing.
UNCHARTED TERRITORY
Evan Mora
She calls me at 10:38 in the morning, at work.
“I want your ass,” she says.
That’s all she says, all she has to say. It’s not a question, and there’s nothing for me to say except yes, so I do.
Hang up the phone. Make excuses. Meaningless words forgotten as soon as they’re spoken. It’s possible that someone will ask me about my so-called emergency tomorrow, but I don’t care. This is what she does to me.
Sitting on the streetcar, head against the window, the slow west-to-east trundle drives me mad. I feel it already—the urgency, the need. The ache that starts in my cunt and radiates outward until my hands shake like a junkie who’s past due for a fix. And I am. It’s been more than a week. Long enough for the tenderness in my limbs to recede and my bruises to turn from purple to yellowish green, long enough for one ache to be replaced by another. That’s part of it, I know. Part of the game that we play that is not a game at all. She makes me wait because I don’t want to wait; because it’s another way she can make me suffer.
My stomach flip-flops when we lurch to a stop across from her building. I clutch the upturned collar of my peacoat together at my throat in a vain effort to keep the cold January winds at bay, shivering as much with apprehension as from the temperature. It’s an unsettling counterpoint to the arousal thrumming through me, this nervous thread of fear. Today will be different. She’s been preparing me for this, has been from the start, but the knowing doesn’t make it any easier. She doesn’t want to spank me or sink her teeth into my ass—she wants her cock buried deep inside what, for me, is uncharted territory.
“Come in, boy,” she says by way of greeting, turning to walk back toward the living room and leaving me to close the door and trail after her, the faint scent of her lavender perfume teasing my senses.
“Well?” she says, seating herself regally in a leather wingback chair, crossing her legs above the knee, her black pencil skirt rising a tantalizing inch higher on her smooth, tanned thigh. She is an imposing woman, from the top of her salon-styled dark tresses down to the tips of her perfectly manicured toes—but it goes so much deeper than that. She has the kind of presence that inspires devotion and commands obedience. My devotion. My obedience. I swallow hard.
I undress under her impassive gaze, heart hammering in my chest. Tie, dress shirt, binder. These are the first to come off, folded neatly and placed in a pile on the floor. My nipples crinkle into hard points of arousal, and I blush to the roots of my short-cropped hair. Shoes, belt and trousers follow, and then all that remains are my snug boxer briefs. I draw a fortifying breath, then push them down and off in a single motion, laying them on the top of the pile.
The transition is the hardest part. Out there, in the world, my image is one of strength and confidence; but in here, with her, there is no room for imagery, only the most basic truth, stripped and exposed. The silence is deafening. I wish she would say something. Order me to kneel, tell me to come to her—anything. But she doesn’t. Not yet. She just looks at me. I try hard not to fidget, not to cover my sex, not to let her see how she makes me tremble.
“Come here,” she says finally, and I nearly stumble in my haste to get to her, relieved by the comforting familiarity of sitting at her feet. She strokes my hair idly and I rest my head against the side of her leg, kiss the skin there softly. She pulls my head back sharply.
“I didn’t tell you to kiss me, boy,” she says.
“I’m sorry, Mistress,” I murmur. Her hand fisted into my hair feels amazing and my clit jumps at the little hurt. She shakes my head gently before letting go.
“Liar,” she says, with a hint of affection. “We’ll deal with that later Kai. In the meantime,” she continues, “I want you to tell me how your assignment is progressing.”
My assignment.
“It’s progressing well, Mistress,” I stammer, my cheeks reddening again.
Mistress Alessa told me when we met that she expected all of me to be available to her whenever she wanted. When she found out I’d never engaged in any kind of ass-play before, she’d smiled with delight, “Why, that’s my very favorite thing!” she’d exclaimed. Penetration in general wasn’t high on my list—I preferred to be the one wearing the cock—but in short order I found myself fucking her while her finger was pressed deep into my ass, and then, after a spanking that set my skin aflame and had me on the verge of orgasm, I was over her knee with her fingers pumping my ass, crying out and coming shamefully on her lap, tears streaming down my face. She’d sent me off that day with a fat anal plug and instructions to masturbate myself to orgasm every night with the plug deep in my ass.
“You’ve been practicing every day?” she presses.
“Yes, Mistress.” I think even the tips of my ears are blushing.
“Excellent,” she says. “Go upstairs and get ready for me.”
Just like that? I pad quickly and silently across the hardwood floors and up the stairs to her master suite, my stomach a jumble of nerves even as my sex pulses insistently between my legs.
I stop short at the side of her bed. I know how she wants me: facedown, shoulders on the bed, ass raised; there are pillows piled neatly in the center of the bed with a towel draped over them to place under my hips, but that’s not what has me frozen in place. There’s a leather hood lying next to the pillows with only a thin slit for a mouth and what looks like a leather blindfold snapped over any eyeholes it might have.
I break out in a cold sweat. I can’t do it. I can’t pick up this hood and calmly put it on. I’m a wreck just thinking about offering up my ass to this woman, and she’s got me so tied up in knots I’d do just about fucking anything for her. But this? It’s too much.
“Is there a problem, boy?” Her voice is so close to my ear I jump, and then the words just spill out.
“Yes, Mistr—I mean no, Mistress—I’m sorry Mistress…I can’t…” I’m wringing my hands, imploring her to understand, my whole body trembling.
She grabs me by the neck and pushes me down.
“Brace yourself,” she says in a clipped voice, and I bend forward, forearms on the bed, ass pushed out toward her. I press my face into the mattress, squeezing my eyes shut against the stupid tears that spring up and then the first lash lands, a slash of heat and pain across the center of my ass that rocks me forward and has me biting my lip to keep from crying out.
She wields the leather strap expertly on my tender skin, covering my ass and my shoulders and then the more sensitive skin on the top of my thighs until I am crying out, tears falling in earnest, awash with misery and pain.
And then, just as suddenly, it stops. Chest heaving, I suck in deep open-mouthed breaths, knowing better than to move without her say-so, acutely aware of the heat emanating from my aching flesh. I hear her moving about behind me, but I’m unprepared when her fingers slip between my legs and into my cunt, and my breath catches in my throat with a gasp.
“Oh, you like that, don’t you, boy?” she whispers against my ear, pumping in and out of me slowly, then drawing her slick fingers forward to tease my clit. I’m so hard it’s almost painful and I whimper, hips rocking forward helplessly when she pulls my hood back and strokes my length between her thumb and forefinger. Her soft laughter caresses my neck as her fingers dance out of reach.
“So eager to come, and yet when I send you up here to get ready for me, I find you dithering about at the side of the bed.” I moan against the coverlet as her fingernails scrape across my ass, and she gives me a hard pinch.
“I told you before, boy, that all of your holes belong to me, didn’t I?” she says.
“Yes, Mistress,” I gasp, as she pinches me again.
“Perhaps you need a reminder to help you remember that in future, hmm?” she purrs, delivering a sharp smack with her hand.
“Yes, Mistress!” I cry.
She kicks my feet wider apart, and then her pelvis is snugged up against my ass and the cool head of her cock slips into my cunt. I grunt into the mattress as she grabs my hips and pulls me back toward her, impaling me fully on her shaft. She fucks me deep and rough, hips slapping against my hot ass, then she leans forward, draping her torso across my back and slipping one hand around to squeeze my neck while she continues to fuck me, slowly cutting off my ability to breathe, the pressure in my head and my clit rising to critical levels.
“You belong to me, boy,” she breathes into my ear. “Whenever and however I like.” She sinks her teeth into the hollow between my shoulder and neck, biting down so deeply that stars explode behind my eyelids and I cry out and come so hard I think for a moment that I might pass out.
She eases her weight off of me, releasing her grip on my throat and withdrawing her cock while I half lie on the bed, panting like a dog, waiting for my vision to clear and wondering whether my legs will hold me if I try to stand up. I needn’t worry though, because she orders me to kneel, and I sink gratefully to the floor at her feet.
“You really are incorrigible, aren’t you?” She looks at me critically. “First you disobey me when I tell you to get ready for me, and then you come like a teenage boy without so much as asking me first.” She tsks disapprovingly. “I’ll have to add that to your list of transgressions, but we’ll deal with that later. For now, I want to see if you can suck my cock without disgracing yourself any further.”
“Yes, Mistress!” I say quickly, rushing on my knees to take up position before the purple cock glistening obscenely between her thighs. She picks up the leather strap in one hand and grasps the base of her cock with the other, slapping it wetly against my face while I chase it like an open-mouthed baby bird. She laughs at my eagerness, but takes pity on me and slides it into my mouth, farther than I’m expecting, and I gag, reaching out instinctively to grab her thighs. It’s the wrong thing to do, and the strap falls smartly against my shoulder.
“Hands behind your back, boy,” she says sharply. I quickly fold them behind me, moaning around her cock, the only apology I can offer with my mouth stuffed full like it is. With one hand she holds my head still so she can fuck my mouth, while the other wields the strap again, letting it fall rhythmically against my shoulders, left then right, in a way that feels almost like a caress. I moan again, with pleasure, losing myself in the myriad sensations flooding my senses.
“What a sweet little cocksucker you are, boy,” she murmurs, and my clit pulses hard at the slight huskiness in her voice, a telltale sign of her pleasure. I’d suck her cock until my jaw ached if it pleased her, but all too soon she’s pulling out, pulling me up by my hair and leading me back to the bed.
“You know what I love about you, boy?” she says, stroking my cheek gently. “I love how pain softens you, how it opens you up…”
She lays the strap down and picks up the hood, and I can’t help but stiffen up again.
“Turn around,” she says, and I turn away from her, heart hammering in my chest all over again, nervous sweat breaking out on my palms. She slips the hood over my head and laces it up snugly in the back. With the blindfold covering the eye sockets, I’m engulfed in blackness and I feel like I’m on the verge of hyperventilating when her soothing voice calls me back to her.
