Various Persuasions

by AE Lister

  I held the bottle of lube high and squeezed, dripping it onto his perineum and asshole like chocolate sauce on an ice cream sundae. The cold lube hitting his skin made him gasp. His hole clenched. It was a wonderful view.

  “You are so pretty, Vincent, even without your pink lingerie. So sweet.” I used a gloved finger to spread the lube on him, tracing his hole and rubbing up and down his perineum. His gasps were lovely to hear, and when I slid my index finger into his hole, he stiffened and cried out softly.

  “Oh yes, sweetheart. So delicate and pretty.” I touched him gently, moving my finger in and out slowly, swirling it inside him, teasing it over his prostate. His balls tightened and lifted. I peeked over top and saw that his cock was hard again, although the glans was still hidden. I added a second finger, then a third, as he cursed and groaned.

  “You like that, sweetheart?”

  “Oh yes, Sir. Oh God, yes.” It was the same as having one of my girls spread on the bench, his noises so sweet and breathy, his body so responsive. But I enjoyed the sight of his cock as it responded to my touch, more than I had ever thought I would. I wanted to kiss his penis as it grew and showed itself, as my fingers pushed deeper and rougher. I could have made him come just from this, and one day I would. But I was too eager to use the toys I’d selected.

  When I withdrew my fingers, he sighed and his cock jerked regretfully. “I think you need something bigger in there, don’t you, Vincent?”

  He moaned and pulled against his restraints. “Yes!”

  “Eager boy. A-plus for enthusiasm.”

  “Thank you, Sir.”

  “Thank me after I put this dildo in your ass.”

  “Yes, Sir. Always, Sir.”

  He was just so sweet and so polite. Daphne knew I’d go nuts for that.

  I wasn’t fond of brats. They tried my patience, which was pretty limited already. Some Doms liked to rise to that challenge. Not me. I liked my subs to be deferential and polite, eager to please. Good girls and boys who waited patiently for what I decided was best.

  Vincent was everything and more.

  I took my time with the dildo. It was bigger than the vibe and it was fun to go slow, to watch his ass open gradually to accommodate it, to hear his sounds as the dildo went deeper and deeper. When it was finally seated inside him, I held it there and spoke over his soft moans.

  “What do you say, Vincent?”

  “Thank you. Thank you, Sir. Oh, thank you, Sir.”

  I looked at his dick, which was fully, painfully hard again. He definitely liked ass play. And since it was one of my favorite things to do to a sub, I felt a sense of synergy with him. It wasn’t like I thought he was meant for me or anything as dramatic as that, but I thought Daphne had been right to send him here and to convince me to try him out.

  “I’m going to fuck you with this now, boy,” I said harshly, like a Leather Daddy in one of those porn scenes shot at the distillery in San Fran…because those were the best.

  Vincent groaned as I dragged the dildo out and shoved it back in, over and over, as his moans became louder and his hips moved on the bench.

  “Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck,” he panted. I rocked it against his prostate and his moan became high-pitched and desperate. I could have made him come from this. But I pulled the dildo out and threw it to the floor with a loud thump.

  “That’s enough of that.”

  Vincent uttered a devastated cry as his gaze followed the dildo then returned to me. He looked so sad but I held up the beads and his eye closed in relief.

  “Yessss,” he moaned. “Oh please, yes.”

  His thighs quivered as I added more lube and began to push the first ‘bead’ against his already-stretched hole. The beads were roughly the same girth as the dildo, but round. The first went in pretty smoothly and Vincent sighed as his ass closed after it. I rubbed the shiny pink skin with the pad of my finger.

  “Good?”

  “Oh my God. So good. More.”

  Greedy boy.

  I pressed the second ball against his hole as he slowly opened for me, taking it inside his body with a groan. Again, I rubbed his anus and reached over with my other hand, grabbing his cock. “How do you like them apples?”

  He laughed, then groaned as he felt their fullness. “You didn’t put apples in me, did you, Sir?”

  I grinned, teasing his hole, poking my finger in to push the balls farther inside him. “Nah. I believe in using appropriately manufactured sex toys. Ready for the rest?”

  I inserted the third, fourth and fifth balls. By the time his ass accepted the final one, his cock had leaked vast amounts of pre-cum and his moans were constant. He fucking loved this. It was incredible to witness.

  “Dammit,” I swore, wishing I could have rubbed myself. I could have totally gotten myself off to this image. “If I were a real bastard, as you say, I’d make you get up and walk around the room, keeping those babies inside you.”

  He whimpered at the thought.

  “But I don’t think you’d make it off the bench before you shot your second load, would you, Vincent?”

  He shook his head, whimpering again. “No, Sir. No, Sir.”

  I slapped his cock, playing rough now. He cried out and shifted on the bench, feeling the rubber balls inside him. I did it again.

  “Oh fuck. Oh fuck!” His voice came out reedy and thin, like he was holding on by a bare thread.

  I tickled the bottoms of his feet, making him squirm. Any movements, however slight, that he made just rolled those balls around inside him, forcing him to feel them. His cock surged and more liquid seeped out.

  “I’m not going to touch your cock, Vincent. I’m going to pull each of these balls out, one by one, and we’ll see how many I can reclaim before you climax. Okay?”

  He groaned in anguish.

  I began to pull on the cord as his anus stretched around the ball. He made a desperate sound as it slowly emerged, but he didn’t come. I was betting he would go off on the third or fourth ball.

  I rubbed his anus as I carefully pulled the next ball from him. On a hunch, as it popped out, I flicked my finger against his taint and that was it. He screamed as he came. I kept pulling. His cock jutted in the air, his body jerking as he howled and spurted. I pulled the last ball out. Lube dripped from his ass and the toy fell to the floor as Vincent’s scream died away and he gasped for air.

  “Oh fuck. Jesus Christ, Jesus Christ,” he muttered, words slurring, eyes shutting, damp hair stuck to his forehead.

  “I think Jesus Christ would be jealous of you, sweetheart,” I said, rubbing his anus and taint to sooth him.

  He continued to breath heavily for some time, while I removed my gloves and stroked the insides of his thighs until they stopped quivering.

  “You okay, sweetheart?”

  He didn’t answer right away.

  “Vincent?”

  “Yeah. I mean, I’ll recover, Sir. I think.” His voice sounded shaky and weak.

  I laughed and stood up, looking at him lying there, blissed out, completely spent and stunningly gorgeous. I cupped his chin in my hand and smiled down at him. “I think you’ll be fine.”

  “Okay. Sure.”

  I removed the cuffs and helped him stand. He gazed down at his limp dick, the mess of semen on his chest and belly, and swayed.

  “You need a drink of water and something to eat. I’ll help you upstairs.”

  He stared at me with a dreamy look, like he just wanted to take a nap.

  “You can have a rest after, but then you owe me two more orgasms.”

  He blinked. “I can barely think right now but didn’t I already have two? That leaves one.”

  I smiled. “One’s mine.”

  His chin dropped as understanding dawned. “Oh!”

  Once we made it upstairs, I ran a bath and helped him clean the lube and semen off his body while the warm water relaxed his muscles. While he was soaking, I dipped into the bedroom and found the pair of boy shorts I had found in the
women’s department and purchased for him. When I held them up for him, I turned them so he could see that the word ‘Princess’ was written in large purple letters on the rear.

  “I bought three pairs in different colors. They’re cotton, so they’ll be more comfortable for lounging than the lace ones.”

  He put the briefs on with his gray T-shirt. I sat him at the kitchen table and fed him leftover tuna salad from a fork. Once he had some food in him, I took him upstairs and we cuddled on my bed until he fell asleep.

  I only realized I’d done the same when I woke up an hour later, staring into blue eyes that looked like a summer day on steroids. Why were they so bright?

  I squinted at him. “Are you on drugs?”

  He snorted a laugh. “No. Why?”

  “Your eyes are too bright. They are unnaturally blue, Vincent.”

  “Sorry.” He didn’t look sorry.

  I reached out and touched his cheek. “They’re beautiful, sweetheart. But why are they so bright?”

  “Because you said something about you having an orgasm. And you have no idea how excited I am to help you with that.” His forehead creased and some of the lightness left his eyes. “I mean, if that was the idea? I mean, I assume…”

  “Shh-h, don’t speak. But, yes. I’m going to demand your assistance, Vincent. Because I can’t take it anymore.”

  He raised his eyebrows, obeying my command to be silent.

  “I can’t take watching you fucking unravel and blossom under my hand without having a part of you.”

  A genuine and delighted smile bloomed on his face. “Well then, you’d better tie me down because if you don’t, I feel like I might just go airborne.”

  I grinned at him. “Yeah, that was the plan. Clothes off and lie on your stomach with your arms and legs spread.”

  He seemed confused. “Stomach, Sir?”

  “Yes, Vincent. Do you have a problem with that?”

  “No. I just… I kind of imagined you were going to…sit on my face or something.”

  “Well, we’re going to go the ‘or something’ route, okay? Just trust me.”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  He got into position. By the time I’d finished cuffing and fastening his wrists and ankles to the eye hooks in my bed frame, he was erect. I knew this because he had to shift position and rutted into the mattress in a casual I don’t even realize I’m doing it kind of way. When he saw me staring, he stopped, looking guilty.

  “I feel like I should enroll you in some kind of competition. Is there an Olympics of Tumescence?”

  He blushed. “I feel like there should be. I could see Daphne organizing it.”

  I laughed. “Yeah, me too. I’ll suggest it next time I see her.”

  I produced the cat from behind my back like a circus showman. “Ta-da.”

  Vincent’s eyes widened and he unconsciously ground against the mattress again. “Fuck.”

  “Now look. I’ve got plans for your mouth and your cock, so don’t you dare come until I say it’s okay. Got it?”

  I ran the strands of the cat down his back and over his buttocks. He shuddered and stiffened.

  “Yes, Sir.”

  A thought occurred to me. “Would you like a blindfold, Vincent?”

  “Yes, Sir. Thank you, Sir.”

  I put down the cat and retrieved a soft piece of black silk from a drawer. So…maybe I had blindfolds stashed all over my house. Sue me.

  Blindfolds were a great way to focus a sub and could give them a sense of security and enhance their ability to surrender. When I resumed playing the cat along his back, he moaned with anticipation and balled his hands into fists.

  “Please safeword at any point if you need to.”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  I took some time trailing the cat tails across his body, down his arms, the backs of his legs, before stepping back and getting down to business, as Vincent had called it—the very enjoyable business of turning my dear sub into a writhing, panting, moaning mess.

  As usual, his responses to this treatment—the sight of his beautiful muscles tensing and relaxing, his pleas to be allowed to climax and just the sounds he made deep in his throat, left me in a state. I dropped the cat, pulled off my leggings then my underpants—a pair of men’s tighty-whiteys if I had to say—and unbuttoned my shirt the rest of the way, leaving it on. I felt I must retain some level of dignity, even if it was superficial. I moved to the foot of the bed because I couldn’t resist diving into him before I did anything else.

  He must have felt the mattress shift when I climbed on behind him because his head jerked up, angling toward me, even though he couldn’t see. As soon as he felt my hands on his buttocks, spreading him, he dropped his head to the mattress and pulled hard on his wrist cuffs. He knew what was coming and he apparently wanted it, badly.

  This time I was not so delicate. I plunged my face into the crack of his ass and ate him out like the pro I was. My tongue had a mind of its own and licked, prodded and invaded Vincent’s most sensitive orifice. He cried out and struggled under my assault, but I had a firm grip and he wasn’t going anywhere. I rolled my tongue into a tube and started plunging it in and out of him as he went crazy with pleas and curses.

  “Oh fuck, please, please, please, God, Jesus, fuck, Sir! Sir! Sir!”

  I paused and lifted my head. “What do you want?”

  He whined in desperation. “Oh my God. I can’t take it. I’m going to come.”

  “You’d better not, Vincent. The punishment will be severe. And I don’t mean a fun punishment. I’m talking not being allowed to come back tomorrow.”

  “What? Oh God, Sir, really? But…but…I’m so fucking hard and I’m leaking all over your sheets!”

  “Keep it together, Vincent. I promise the reward will be yours soon if you can hold out.”

  “Yes, Sir. I’ll try.”

  And with that, I parted his ass again and gazed at the saliva-slick skin of his twitching anus, just before I bowed to him again. This time I used my teeth gently—and not so gently—around his rim, slipping my tongue in as far as it would go and slurping it noisily everyfuckingwhere.

  He tried to stay still, probably because all the writhing was working his cock into a frenzy, and he did a good job. When my mouth and tongue began to tire, I drew back and gave him a resounding slap on his behind that echoed as loud as his howl in the quiet room.

  “Good boy. Very, very good boy,” I said, slapping him hard with each word. He groaned in protest and lay there, subdued and muttering under his breath.

  “What’s that?” I asked, rubbing my hands over the globes of his ass because they were just so perfect and soft and pink and hot from the abuse.

  “You are such a bastard,” he hissed, but I heard the affection in it too. “Such a bastard.”

  I grinned. “I know. I am, aren’t I? Still like me or do you hate me now?”

  “I couldn’t ever hate you, Sir.”

  “Do you like me, though?”

  What possessed me to continue this line of conversation I didn’t know.

  “I think I love you.”

  His words hung between us as all the air left my chest and the room started to spin. But I got myself under control. He was in subspace right now. Anything he said was highly influenced by those endorphins shooting through him.

  So, I decided to minimize the damage.

  “You did not just say that, did you, Vincent? I’m going to pretend you didn’t say that, because we are in the middle of an intense scene and it means nothing. And you’re very naughty to think that saying something like that is going to make any difference in terms of the way I’m going to treat you right now. Got it?”

  He let out a mournful sigh, as if he’d just realized his mistake. My heart hurt for him a little. “I like you a lot, Vincent. And I know you like me. And I think that’s pretty amazing for the short time we’ve known each other.”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  I moved forward, climbing over his ass
and straddling his lower back, leaning forward and putting my mouth by his ear. “Do you feel this, Vincent?” I slid my crotch back and forth over his skin. I was so wet he felt like a waterslide.

  He gasped. “Fuck, Sir. You’re soaking wet.”

  “Yes, I am. And it’s all your fault. So, I’m going to get you to do something about it, all right?”

  He bobbed his head furiously. “Yes, Sir. Oh, please Sir, please! Please let me do something!”

  I laughed at his desperation but was also getting to a pretty needy place. I placed my hands on his shoulder blades and pushed myself up to a standing position over him. Then I stepped over his arms and maneuvered myself so I was sitting in front of him, propped up by the headboard of my bed, my legs spread, knees bent over his arms, shirt fanning out to either side.

  “Can you smell me?” I asked.

  He groaned and licked his lips, sniffing the air like a dog after cocaine. I knew he could smell me. I could smell myself. I scooched forward and placed my hands on his face, guiding him to where I needed him. “Do as you will, sweetheart. Make me come.”

  He uttered the sweetest sound, then instead of ravaging me like I expected, he tentatively reached his tongue out and licked me delicately from my ass to the top of my clit. He did this again and it was all I could do not to grab his head and press his mouth down onto me.

  But I didn’t want to do that. I wanted to see what he would do. I wanted to see how he would enjoy me.

  I let out a most un-Dom-like whimper and fisted my hands in the bedsheets as he explored me gently, so softly with his agile tongue while my soul combusted into flames of frustration. I let my head fall back and stared at the popcorn ceiling, trying to keep breathing as I focused on what his tongue was doing to me.

  He took me apart one slow lick at a time until I was the one begging. I mean, I could have just told him what to do and how to do it. But what would have been the fun in that?

  “Fuck, Vincent, Jesus! Jesus. How is your tongue so fucking soft?” I moaned in a most unladylike fashion since I was no lady at all. “Please, please, please, do it harder. Please, please, please just fucking eat me.” I tried not to squirm as he increased the strength and vigor of his attack.