by Joey W. Hill
Setting the knife aside, she slid the button of the jeans free and worked the zipper down, moving carefully over the sizeable impediment there. He had lean hips, long thighs. If he were a club submissive, she would have had him toe off his shoes himself, enjoying his struggle to do it while maintaining his balance against the give of the suspended hook. But he was her Master, and she liked the dichotomy of it, having him at her mercy while she knelt at his feet, leaving his jeans open as she slid off the loafers. She suppressed a smile at the dirt in them from the garden. In her position, it was easy to rub her cheek over his confined erection, inhale the damp musk of his arousal.
“While you’re down there...” There was strain behind the humor, and she managed a breathy chuckle.
“You wish.” She curled her fingers in the jeans and worked them down his legs, scraping his thighs with her nails, giving his knees a passing caress, knowing the backs were slightly ticklish. The beauty of eroticism and domestic bliss mixed. She wondered that anyone ever tired of their spouse, thinking the terrain too familiar, the mind too well plumbed. Maybe because she was a Mistress, she knew that the male body was infinitely responsive, the mind never fully revealed. And for a complex man like her husband, she could spend ten lifetimes with him and still not have it all.
He wore his preferred boxers underneath the jeans, the snug knit that emphasized the hips and thighs, the large cock stretching the fabric. She took the underwear down next, making a pleased purr behind her teeth as his organ stretched up toward his belly, hard and enthralling, the testicles a heavy, virile weight between his thighs. Her pussy contracted, weeping into the thin stretched fabric of the riding breeches, her thighs already loosening in response to his cock’s proximity, the implied demand of it.
How often had she woken in the middle of the night to see the shelter of his broad shoulders over her, the wide chest? Felt his knee insinuating between hers, her legs already spreading for him, body automatically welcoming him?
Controlling her body’s learned and eager response, she finished removing the jeans and underwear, then stepped back to survey pure art. Lean, long muscle in his arms and chest, thighs and stomach, cock aroused and at her mercy. She walked around him, dropping the clothes in a pile to the side, and studied a back like that of a powerful Roman god’s, tapering down to firm, high buttocks and spread thighs. Moving casually as if considering him from all angles, she picked up something else from the cabinet without pausing or giving away what she’d acquired. When she came back around, one step, two, she laid her unoccupied hand on his lower back, caressing the rise of his ass. Shifting onto her toes, she put her lips on his nape, bit down.
“Are you mine, Tyler?”
“Yours and no other. You’re killing me, Marguerite.”
“Really?” She bit him again, suckled the place hard, wanting to leave a nice imprint of teeth. Why was it so many sensual things had such silly, demeaning names? A hickey. It sounded juvenile, harmless, rather than a mark of pure erotic possession.
He let out a growl, responding in kind, and she brought her tongue into it. Pressing her body to his bare side, she slid hard nipples over the expanse of his ribs. Her pubic mound rubbed against his flank, telling him how snug her riding breeches were. The seam bit into her labia, making the friction of his hard heat a pleasurable gift.
Considering him sufficiently distracted, she made her move. Before he had time to react or tighten, she positioned the slim probe between his buttocks and slid it through the two rings of muscle in one economical movement. The slick lubricant on it made it sink swiftly into the dark channel and her fingers followed, delving between the buttocks to tease and caress the now stretched rim.
“Son of a—”
She’d never placed anything there. It really wasn’t something a submissive did to her Master, was it? Unless she happened to also be a Mistress, who knew the kind of pleasure it could bring, how it could reduce a male to mindless orgasm.
“Easy,” she crooned, placing her hand on his shoulder, her fingers caressing his throat. “You have such a tight ass, Master. One would think you were a virgin.”
His strangled sound might have been the closest thing to a threat she’d ever heard from him. It only made her anticipate his revenge. But that would be later. She wanted to savor this now. She worked the probe, stroked him inside, and was rewarded with a jerk of movement. She’d had four mirrors placed fore and aft, to the left and right, so she could see his every reaction. His lips were stretched back, breath coming through his teeth as he tried to suppress his response to the stimulation.
“I want you harder than you’ve ever been in your life, Tyler. I want you to beg me to let you come.”
“Not...happening.”
He was probably wondering once again how this qualified as his birthday present, but she knew he didn’t know how to think like a submissive. He didn’t know the release that came with full surrender. But she was going to take him there, because she was the only one who could. She wanted to take him where he had taken her, countless times before.
Fitting the harness around the base of the probe, she threaded the straps through his legs, coming forward to work the cock ring over him and tighten the straps for it, constricting the testicles. She couldn’t resist bending down after she did it, pushing her hair back onto one shoulder to keep it out of the way as she took him fully in her mouth. She went all the way to the base, teasing those metal rings and tight strap, the flesh constricted under them, before withdrawing with painful slowness, savoring every considerable inch of him. He was hot steel beneath her tongue and lips. Flicking her tongue over the slit at the end, she tasted salty male fluid.
When she straightened, the muscles in his jaw were drawn tight enough to break. “I want to feed you now,” she decided. “I know you haven’t had lunch, because we were going to have an early dinner.”
“You bringing your cunt up here? Because that’s the only meal that interests me right now.”
The raw crudeness made her shiver. Even in his most aroused moments, he had polish. But she’d opened the door to the beast beneath. It was a good thing she’d brought a whip and a chair.
Part Six
“If you don’t mind your manners,” she observed, “I’ll eat these treats that Chloe made, all by myself.” Sidling closer, she held up the tiny finger-shaped pineapple cake, one of Chloe’s specialties. It was filled with a light, sweet cream cheese, so the fragrance of that, plus the irresistible smell of recently baked cake and pineapple so fresh they could have been in Hawaii, couldn’t help but reach his nostrils. Tyler had an incorrigible sweet tooth, particularly when it came to Chloe’s baking.
“Take it gently, now.” She placed one end of it in her mouth, laid her hand on his chest and leaned in, bringing it forward until it brushed his lips. He curled them back like a wolf, but opened his mouth. Clever man that he was, he didn’t close his mouth until he reached her lips, so he not only got the largest possible piece, but a taste of her lips flavored by the pineapple and sugar as well. He chewed without moving back, then flicked cream cheese off her upper and lower lip with his tongue as she held her portion inside her mouth. It made her glad the treat practically melted in the moist heat, because she didn’t want to chew and disrupt his oral seduction.
She was fairly expert at nuances herself, so was thrilled with his rough, urgent edge, telling her the probe and her other tactics were working as she wished.
Bolstered by that, she reluctantly backed off in mid-kiss and picked up the other container, which was more of the same whipped cream cheese, only without cake this time. Taking up the switchblade again, she dipped it into the cheese and then drew a stool up close to him.
“Don’t move a muscle,” she instructed. “I wouldn’t want to cut you.”
When she started with his left nipple, letting him feel the edge as she pressed the cool icing upon him, he gave a quiet grunt. “Which explains why you’re using the sharpest blade you can find.”
/> His wry comment was cut short, replaced by a strangled noise as she pressed the button on the remote she also had sitting on the stool. It activated the heat and vibration of the probe. If his reaction was any indication, she’d seated it right where she wanted it.
“Remember,” she said. “No movement.”
She curved the blade in a sweeping motion around his nipple, painting the cream there, then made a serpentine trail down his rib cage, over his upper abdomen and lower, dipping back into the bowl a couple times until she reached his bound cock. Then she made one sliding stroke from base to the flared head, and set the knife aside.
“I like the filling best of all,” she observed.
“Marguerite...” He swallowed, his upper body jerking as the vibration ratcheted up.
“This is one of the newest acquisitions at Justin’s store. It’s a programmable vibrator. If you know your lover very, very well, his ability to control his release, you can plot a program that will take him up, up...until he’s almost sure he’ll release, and he wants that above all else. Then it will rein him in, teasing and massaging him, so he’s pulled back and forth toward climax until he can’t think of anything else but how hard his cock is, and how much he wants to come.”
“Is there anyone not involved in my birthday celebration?” he demanded. She watched the muscles stretch and tighten in his powerful shoulders, his head drop back as he tried to contain what couldn’t be contained—his body’s erotic response. “As far as I can tell, you have everyone from an infant to my housekeeper involved.”
“Well, I called the White House, since they seem very much into promoting stimulus packages.” She smiled. “But they weren’t available to send a representative.”
“Cute.”
But all vestiges of humor disappeared from his face when she placed both her hands on his rib cage and brought her mouth to his nipple, licking the cream away delicately, scoring him with her teeth.
“Would rather...suck that off...your nipple.”
“Soon,” she crooned. “Let me finish here first. I don’t want to leave a mess, after all.”
“You keep doing that, angel, we’re going to have a mess.”
“Oh, no. I know my Master. He’s very, very stubborn. He’ll consider it a point of pride to hold out as long as he possibly can. I’m counting on it.”
Because the longer it took, the more he held back, the more intense the climax would be. She wanted to see it happen, because she’d feel it in the deepest contraction of her womb, his pleasure connected to her, whether his cock was sunk inside her or not.
She worked her way down, savoring every inch of the firm skin beneath her lips and tongue, making sure she got up each bit of cream cheese, even licking the stickiness away, sucking on the skin. When she reached his cock, she went to one knee, gripping his upper thighs, scratching them with her nails. Slowly, slowly, she slid her mouth around him, taking the head in first, working her tongue under the flared head.
He jerked in her grasp, the stimulation in his ass making what she was doing to his cock even more difficult to endure, particularly when she took her fingers between his spread legs and teased that stretch of skin between testicle sac and cock base, massaging that hyper erotic area.
“Fuck...”
Victory. Tyler rarely let go of his Southern manners around her. Since their volatile courtship, she could count on one hand the number of times he’d cursed around her. He treated her like one of his delicate roses...except when she pricked him with enough thorns to tell him she wanted rougher treatment. If that was the case, right now he probably felt like she was wrapping him in a net full of thorns.
Right on cue, the probe’s intensity changed, shooting up from mid-level to a high, heavy-hitting vibration that would flail his prostate like a tiny, madly flapping tongue. Given she’d also lubed it up with an aphrodisiac, he should—
He snarled, pulling against the chains, a violent movement, and she let the motion thrust him deeper into her mouth, where she captured him with the suction there, the clamp of her teeth. He froze, a shudder running through him as she flicked the pounding pulse of the underside vein. He was so thick and hot, she couldn’t help indulging the pleasure of sucking on him some more. It brought more pre-cum onto her tongue, mixing with the lingering flavor of the cheese.
He swore again, and a glance upward showed that light sheen of sweat was starting to glisten. But then the vibration sank to a more gentle, teasing stroke. It had been a near thing, but she was satisfied to see she knew her man.
Rising, she brushed her mouth close to his ear. “Close only counts in horseshoes and hand grenades,” she reminded him. “Do you need a little pain to keep it reined in, Master?”
“This is torture enough, angel,” he muttered. “Christ, you are so going to pay for this.”
“Only after you pay first.” She caught his earlobe in her teeth and let him feel the flick of the flexible crop she’d retrieved from the floor, brushing it on the inside of his knee.
Because she did know her man, she knew he wasn’t turned on by being flogged. But the audacity of her doing it to him was a different matter. Not to mention knowing how it affected her...
“I’m going to whip your ass with this now,” she whispered, her breath hot on his mouth. She inhaled the lingering scent of the cake. “Not because you enjoy that, but because it will make me so hot and wet to do it. To see this crop striking your ass, leaving a red stripe, watching you flex against it. I’m going to take the tail at the end, use it to tease your rim, push against the base of that probe. I’ll make you take it in just a little deeper a push you onto your toes, make you strain upward because your body has nowhere else to go.”
She moved behind him, her hand trailing his side again, then resting high on one buttock. The crop flicked down, followed the channel between his cheeks, teasing that probe, as she’d said, manipulating it. “Then you know what I’m going to do?”
He was trying not to do what she said, his toes gripping the ground so hard that his calves flexed.
“What, angel?”
“I’m going to be so, so wet then, I’m going to unzip these tight pants, push them to my knees. Then I’m going to put my hands on the stool in front of you and back slowly, slowly onto your cock. I’ll tighten the cock harness before I do, though, so you’ll feel that restriction, and know you won’t come until I’m all done with my own climax, serviced by the all-too-proud lord of the plantation. Then maybe we’ll hose you down and give you a good currying.”
He cocked his head. His breath was coming through his flared nostrils rapidly enough he sounded like a fractious stallion in truth, but when he spoke, his voice was heavy with intent, unbridled lust.
“You promised I could suck some of that cream cheese off you first. Let me taste you, angel. Or are you worried I can talk you out of doing all that with just the feel of my lips on your tight nipple? Make you forget everything but letting me off this chain.”
“And what would you do if I did?” she asked in a low voice, reveling in the dangerous tone of his voice, the way his hands clenched in the restraints.
“I’d take you to your hands and knees and cover you like a mare, ramming into your sweet ass until you’d never again think you could get the upper hand on your Master.”
“Mmm. Doesn’t sound like a reasonable plan. In fact, sounds like I’d have every incentive in the world to try to get the upper hand again. And again.” She cocked her head, listening to the hum of the probe. “Better hang on, Master. This one’s going to be at maximum power.”
“Son of a...”
As the motor’s sound increased, she unbuttoned her shirt, watching him with her lips parted, her body humming along at the same high frequency. His cock constricted, moving in that quick jerk that preceded more viscous fluid, his thighs trembling with the effort of holding himself back. He let out another snarl, a long, drawn out one, a way of focusing his energy, keeping himself from letting go completely.
The higher frequencies in the probe’s program would get shorter and shorter, adjusting for his shorter and shorter fuse. When she slid her cunt back on him as she described, he would start coming the second she engulfed the broad head. She’d timed it that way.
As excited as her own body was, she expected his climax would knock her over into hers. Unless she enraged him further by letting herself go first.
Picking up the knife, she wiped a generous gathering of the cream cheese on her left nipple and drew in her breath at just that one sensation, her lower belly tightening, anticipating his mouth. He was panting, his biceps knotted as she drew the stool directly in front of him. With grace and a perfect balance that belied her internal unsteadiness, she propped herself on her knees and slid her hands over his shoulders to hold her there.
“My breast is right in front of your mouth, Master. All you have to do is reach for it.”
He pushed against her hands, insistent strength, but just the tip of his tongue came out, making the barest contact with the cream, not even putting pressure on the aroused nipple behind it. Still, it made her sway forward, her fingers digging into his flesh.
“I’m going to make you come, angel. Just from doing this.”
“Only if I let you.”
“You’re not going to give yourself that choice.”
Part Seven
She slid her hand from his shoulder, up to cup the back of his head, her fingers burrowing in the short, layered hair there on his skull, at his nape, bringing him in closer. He might very well be right, because even as aroused as he was, he was always far-too-aware of how high he could drive her. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d proven he could Master her while he himself was fully restrained. It was more than the physical that gave them power over one another, though. She had a gift to give him, and she fully intended to hold onto enough control to accomplish it.
