by AE Lister
“Oh please, please. Fuck me with your finger. Please.”
Oh, my dirty, dirty boy. Not so polite now, except he did keep saying ‘please’.
“Just one finger?” I swirled my index finger around the edge of his hole as it unclenched and clenched in anticipation.
He lifted up his head and yelled, “All of them!” Then he let it fall back. “All of them.”
I stopped what I was doing for a moment.
“Did Mistress Daphne fist you, Vincent?”
He was quiet, just soft moans coming now. Then, “Yes.”
Wow. My insides throbbed with desire as I imagined it.
“Did you like it?”
“Fuck, yes. So much. So much.”
“Hmm-m,” I said again, swirling my finger around his hole, watching his cock jerk. “I’m not going to fist you today.”
He sighed with disappointment. “Okay.”
“But that’s definitely something I’d like to explore with you.”
He groaned and I pushed my finger into him finally.
He cried out as his stomach muscles clenched and his anus accepted my finger. I shoved in deeper and was rewarded with a groan and Vincent’s mouth opening and closing.
“How’s that?”
“Good, oh fuck, more.”
All politeness gone. Achievement unlocked.
“Keep that crop from falling, Vincent,” I said as I pulled my finger out and pushed back in again. He moaned and shuddered. I added a second finger, then a third. Oh yeah, I could have totally fisted him. I mean, my hands weren’t even that big…but not this time.
As I withdrew, Vincent jerked and the crop fell, making a clatter as it hit the floor. He froze, panting and awaited my reaction.
I peeled off the nitrile glove, again with lots of noise, and dropped it to the floor. Then I walked over and bent down to pick up the crop, not saying anything. Vincent tracked my steps, although he couldn’t see me.
“You’re not really going to use that on my balls, are you, Sir?” he squeaked.
“I haven’t decided yet,” I said.
“I’m not really into ball torture,” he gasped, squirming.
“I’ll keep that in mind. You remember your safeword?”
“Yes. Piano.”
“Okay. I need you to try to keep still because I don’t want to hit you in the wrong spot with this. I don’t want to hurt you too much.” I grinned, even though he couldn’t see. “Just enough.”
“Yes, Sir.”
I touched the tip of the crop to the rosy head of his penis, which had fully emerged from his foreskin and glistened with moisture. He was ripe for the taking. I tapped it, making him gasp and squirm. So much for staying still.
I glided the tip of the crop along the underside of his cock to touch his balls then poked behind them. He groaned.
“I’ll start small,” I said.
I traced the tip of the crop to his inner thigh and gave it a sharp swat. He gasped. I did it again. A moan this time.
“Okay?”
“Yesssss…”
He liked that. Good. I had chosen the right crop to start with.
I swatted the insides of both thighs, then the outsides, then moved down to his calves. Because I was hitting him very lightly, I could go there safely. I was just teasing him. I wouldn’t have bound him this way for severe impact play. That was better reserved for the buttock area.
I traced the tip of the crop up one leg and along his hip to his belly. Again, light stingy taps over his belly, near his cock to scare him. I just wanted to get him worked up and it seemed to be doing the trick. He looked beautiful moaning and licking his lips with the purple mask over his eyes and his body displayed this way.
There wasn’t much of a difference between a man’s body and a woman’s body when it came down to it. The vulnerable spots were basically the same, the responses similar. But the feeling of exploring a man in this way was exhilarating since I’d never done it before. Zane had never let me top him. He had taught me how to dominate women. And he had taught me well— Well enough that I seemed able to carry over those skills to be what Vincent needed.
I used the crop like a feather, tracing Vincent’s skin along his muscles and limbs, enjoying the way he tensed and relaxed, listening to his breathing, his moans and gasps. He was as delicate as a flower in some ways, but I could already see he was incredibly strong and inviolable in others. To seek out this kind of thing from strangers took guts.
“Oh, sweetheart, you’re doing so well.” I loved calling him that, and he seemed to like it too. While some men would have bristled at so soft an endearment, it seemed to reach deep into Vincent’s soul and water an empty well. “I can see you’re very aroused.”
He groaned and his cock jerked, as if to prove me right.
“I’m going to turn you over so I can demonstrate the true effectiveness of each of these crops on your backside.”
He shuddered.
It only took a few minutes to reposition him on his front, with his knees and wrists bound this time. I’d lowered the bench so he was kneeling on the floor, his erect cock jutting below. His cheek lay against the padded leather as he tested his wrist bindings. The purple mask was still in place because his face looked beautiful with it on and because I wanted him to concentrate on the different sensations produced by each implement.
I was confident that he liked this position. He seemed more relaxed and able to accommodate the indignity of being bound.
“Let’s get down to business.” I tapped the skin of his buttock with the tip of the crop, harder than before. “I’m going to ask you some questions and I want you to try to answer them honestly. If you don’t like a question, you can pass. Okay?”
“Yes, Sir,” he said obediently.
I mean, this entire weekend was essentially a first date, so I wanted to know things.
“Where did you grow up?” I asked, snapping the crop against his ass.
He cried out but answered. “Toronto. Sir.”
“Downtown Toronto? Or the suburbs?” I said, hitting him on the other cheek.
He gasped. “Suburbs. Big house. Three sisters.”
Ah, that explained some of it. I ran the tip of the crop into his cleft, sliding it against his anus. He moaned.
“Are your parents together?”
“Divorced…when I was eight. Why are we talking about my parents?” he asked.
“Sorry. Never mind. Forget them. They’re irrelevant.”
He laughed, then gasped as I struck him again. “I like that, Sir.”
“I like that you like it.” I gave him a final strike, then laid the crop down on the love seat and picked up another. This one was green and had a smaller tip, so it would sting a bit more where the last one had had more of a thwunk. “This is my second crop purchase. My sub wanted something a little sharper.” I slapped his buttock with it and he moaned.
“What do you think? Better than the other one or not as good?”
“Better,” he said, panting and squirming.
I slapped his ass with it a few more times, then reached underneath and palmed his cock, which was hard and throbbing.
“Mmm-hmm. You do like that one.”
He thrust into my hand, groaning. He would have come if I’d let him. I took my hand away.
“Not yet, sweetheart. We still have three more to sample.”
He whimpered in a most delicious way. I worked him over with the green crop for a little longer, then switched to the red one. This one was similar to the first and dealt a heavier, less-stingy impact. I already knew he liked it and his sounds indicated he was enjoying himself.
Then I picked up the quirt. “This is my fourth purchase,” I said, gliding the knotted end along Vincent’s back and over his pinking buttocks.
He shuddered and groaned, pulling on his bindings. “Oh fuck,” he muttered.
I grinned. “Yeah, this one’s gonna hurt more than the others. The sting is pretty severe.”
He struggled like he wanted to escape.
I checked in. “Do you want to try it? I can hold off on this and the cat for now.”
He settled down. I ran the end of the quirt over the line of his body again. He liked that, so I kept doing it until he told me to go ahead.
“Good boy. You’re very brave.”
He shuddered a breath as I pulled back and brought the tip of the quirt down quite hard on his right buttock.
He howled and jerked. “Fuck! Fuck.”
I couldn’t help smiling because I was an evil genius and because he looked so fucking good tied down, struggling against the pain. I brought it down twice on his left buttock and he cried out again. I reached underneath. His cock was rock-hard and leaking. He was getting off on this big time. I fucking loved it.
I whipped his ass with the quirt then dropped it to the floor and picked up the cat. I did the same thing and ran the strands of the cat along his back. There were five strands and each one resembled the strand on the quirt. His head jerked up and he cursed.
“Yes, or no? We can stop anytime.”
He thrust into the air and I wondered if he was close. His ass was pretty red, he was sweating and panting and the pelvic movements were telling. I waited for his answer.
Finally, he moaned, “Yessss,” and I had a feeling he was close.
I would use the cat on him then get him off. He had definitely earned it and the cat was nasty, so I’d just give him a small taste.
He came on the third strike of the cat on his back. I was standing there with my mouth open watching him convulse and his cock spray semen onto the floor of my basement, while I almost had a sympathetic orgasm of my own. It was fucking amazing to watch. And I could barely compute that he’d come without a hand on his cock, only the thin furls of the cat-o-nine tails on his skin. It was a fucking revelation.
And his sounds! He moaned so loudly and long that I wondered if my neighbors would hear. I honestly didn’t care, and the cadence of his pleasure was music to my ears.
I dropped the cat and moved forward, sliding on my knees by his head and stroking his hair, making comforting noises as his cries began to dissipate. I reached under the table and gave his cock a comforting stroke, although I knew he would be sensitive.
He sighed and jerked in my grasp, trying to get away.
“Vincent, that was fucking incredible. I should punish you for coming without permission, but I’ve honestly never seen anything like that.”
He panted, his mouth open and slack while I pushed the blindfold off his head. His hair was damp with sweat and his eyes had closed.
“Vincent?” I whispered.
He opened them and gazed at me with something close to awe. I couldn’t accept this. It had been him as much as me.
“Thank you,” he whispered.
Something inside me broke open and filled with sunshine.
Chapter Nine
I gave Vincent a solid two hours of aftercare that included a cuddle, a warm bath and rubbing his sore spots with arnica cream. He was very quiet while we did this and I wondered if he was experiencing sub drop, but when I asked him questions, his answers reassured me.
Just before he left, as we confirmed he would return the next Saturday at nine and wouldn’t get himself off in the meantime, he looked at me with an expression so mournful that I started to think I’d done something wrong.
“What’s the matter?”
“I miss you already,” he said softly, sincerely, and it was enough to send a small bite of panic through me. I’d thoroughly enjoyed our day but it had affected me deeply, and I needed some time to myself to sort that out. I wondered why Vincent didn’t seem to relish the same thing.
But he was so sweet that I couldn’t help smiling. “You can text me. And if you ask nicely, I might even call you.”
“Yeah?” he said, brightening.
I raised my eyebrows. “Maybe. If you can prove to me what a good boy you’re being without me there to watch you.”
He grinned.
“And, uh, Vincent?”
“Yeah?”
“You owe me an essay.”
“Fuck.”
* * * *
Sunday was a complete write off.
I couldn’t stop thinking about Vincent. I half expected him to text or call me but he didn’t and I felt disappointed. Fuck it, I was crushed, which made me furious at myself and frustrated with him. Why wouldn’t he at least touch base?
At least I could go to work on Monday and Tuesday, which helped. The office was as busy as usual. By Wednesday I had to admit it bothered me that he hadn’t texted at all. I wondered if he was second-guessing our connection or if he was regretting ever having come over. Then again, there’d been no text saying any of that.
I decided if I didn’t hear from him by the time I was done with supper on Wednesday, I would send him a quick text making sure he was okay. He’s seemed okay when he’d left but maybe he’d started having regrets?
At five minutes after six I got a message from him. I actually sighed with relief.
Trouble: Hi, Sir. I’m having issues with your request.
My grin almost split my face but I decided to clarify:
Me: The essay or the one where you have to keep your hands off your dick?
Trouble: The essay is done, Sir.
Me: Wow. I’m pleased to hear that.
I quickly changed his contact name from Trouble to SweetH—for Sweetheart—because the essay was done and he deserved it.
SweetH: It’s the other thing, Sir.
Me: Which, as I recall, wasn’t a request but an order.
SweetH: I believe I was supposed to abstain from having an orgasm, not from keeping my hands off. Is that correct, Sir?
Me: That is correct. Although the other seems like an exercise in frustration.
SweetH: It is. I want to come so bad. This is hard. And so am I. Sir.
Me: Then maybe you should keep your hands off your dick.
SweetH: I wish they were your hands, Sir.
Me: No you don’t. If they were my hands, I’d be deliberately teasing you and edging you and not letting you come.
SweetH: It kind of feels like you are, Sir.
Me: Well then, maybe I should call you.
SweetH: *Happy excited faces with hearts*
Oh hell. He had me wrapped around his finger—or his cock. Whatever.
“Hi.”
“Hello, Vincent.”
I heard breathing. Then, “Am I in trouble?”
“Not yet.” He sounded really turned on. “How hard are you, Vincent?”
“Painfully hard.”
“After only two days?” I made a clicking noise.
“Almost three,” he said mournfully.
“You should probably have a cold shower.”
“I did.”
“You did?”
He sighed. “After work…but it’s back.”
I laughed. “The perils of being twenty-four, I guess.”
“And having a dream Dom.” His voice was warm and so sweet.
“Flattery is not going to get you an orgasm.” I was pretty sure I was blushing, which was fucking ridiculous.
“Fuck. Damn.” He sounded genuinely disappointed.
I actually laughed. “Oh, Vincent, you kill me.”
His breath hitched. “In a good way?”
“In a very good way. Now listen. Go take another cold shower and watch TV or something. Get your mind off sex.”
He laughed. “It’s not on sex.”
“Then what are you thinking about that’s making you so hard?”
I heard him swallow thickly. “Your basement. Being tied down. Being whipped.”
My mouth dried as I remembered what had happened in my basement on Saturday. “I see.”
“Can we do that again?”
Oh, fuck yes. “I think that can be arranged, but only if you fulfill my requirements this week. The essay…and no orgasms. You w
ant to touch your dick, be my guest. But if I find out you climaxed, you are going to have one boring-ass weekend. Do you understand?”
“But I live alone, Sir. If I have an orgasm, who’s going to tell you?”
“You are.”
He groaned, then laughed. “Yes, Sir.”
I hung up the phone with a smile on my face.
I slept well, knowing that Vincent might struggle but that he’d do his very best to obey my orders.
Work on Thursday sucked balls, but when I finally had a chance to relax after supper, I received the following message—
SweetH: I’m still hard, Sir.
Me: That’s good to hear. I like your stamina.
SweetH: *Single tear on sad face emoji*
Me: *Sunglasses and grin on face emoji*
On Friday evening, I got this one.
SweetH: I can’t take it anymore. I need to come. Please!
I smiled at my phone and sat on the sofa, getting comfortable.
Me: You can wait until tomorrow, Vincent.
SweetH: I don’t want to, Sir.
Me: Tell you what. If you do as you’re told and don’t come tonight, tomorrow I’ll let you have not one, not two, but three massive orgasms.
SweetH: Are you screwing with me, Sir?
Me: Not at all.
SweetH: You’re screwing with me, Sir.
Me: Well, tomorrow I’ll be screwing with you.
SweetH: Three orgasms, Sir?
Me: Yep. Massive. Explosive. Epic.
SweetH: Fuck. Okay, fine. Then I’ll hold off, Sir.
Me: Good boy.
SweetH: *Sobbing face emoji*
* * * *
The kid was practically bouncing in place when I opened the door on Saturday morning, a huge smile on his pretty face. This was my fault and I needed to tone things down.
“Vincent, calm down. You’re not getting them right away.”
He looked crestfallen. “But…but I’ve been so good!” He thrust a sheaf of papers at me. “Here’s my essay.”
“Thank you. Take your clothes off and go sit at the piano. Did you wear the panties?”
“Yes, Sir.”
“Leave those on.”
