There really was no excuse for this. Overwhelmed by January’s relentless mundanity? Weeks, months even, of barely talking to my partner? Brexitrump? Perhaps I just needed to switch it all off and throw myself into a few hours of hedonistic pleasure. A couple of nice wins at poker provided the final impetus and the funds.
What I really wanted was to feel.
Fear. Excitement. Pain. Emotion. Pleasure.
I wanted to feel it all to the absolute limit.
Which is how I came to be waiting in Better Than A Bed, a downstairs dungeon, for Katie to return from the bathroom, knowing that Mistress Elita would be with us an hour later.
She always takes my breath away. She’s small, tiny really; her diminuitive stature somehow emphasized by the silky, strappy bit of material I bought her from Coco de Mer. She kneels in front of me. Submissive but wanting. I touch her, feel her hair, her face, her neck. I run a single finger down over her body, starting at her Adam’s apple then outlining her breasts, gliding over her smooth stomach before imparting the briefest of promises between her legs.
“You make me feel special” she whispers.
She leans forward unbidden and takes my nipple into her mouth, teasing it gently, then with more intent, knowing exactly where my on-switch is and finding it with unerring precision. I arch my back in pleasure, reach my hands behind her to grab her bottom, pulling her onto me, letting her feel the effect she is having. She tends to the other nipple. Harder, biting this time.
We’re two minutes in and I’m lost already.
She’s over the firm, rolled arm of the leather chaise longue; stretched by a rope through her wrist cuffs, face forced down to the leather seat, close enough to smell it. The chaise is perfect for this. She looks so beautiful: vulnerable, sexy, mine. I spank her; firm smacks on the cheeks of her bottom, though not too hard. This is not punishment, this is an awakening of the senses, a preparation for what is to come. Some strokes with a flogger make her yelp, wriggling her bottom on the leather couch.
We’re ten minutes in and I want her already
Her back to the wooden cross, hands cuffed behind it, clips on her nipples. I tug on the chain connecting the clips. Does she wince, or squeal? No; she breathes in deeply, sucking up the sensations, rolling with them, letting them work though her body. She doesn’t cry out in pain, she moans in pleasure, hot little pain-slut that she is. I take the clips off, let the blood flow back to her nipples then replace them immediately, a nasty little trick I learned from Elita. A vibrator, mains powered, powerful; I pull on the chain while rubbing the vibrator backward and forwards over her clitoris. Her orgasm is long, noisy and unconstrained.
I want her more
A long wide bench. Middle of the room. I kneel her on it, legs strapped to each side, exposing her. A flogger. The blows are light but I know they will be stingy, insistent, bringing nerve endings alive. The blows are all over her body. ALL over. Back, breasts, legs, between her thighs. And yes, there too, but softly, sensitizing her skin, making her want it more, making her want it all.
I check the time. Elita’s not far away now. I have planned this, schemed it. I have Katie bend forward and clip her wrist cuffs to the sides of the bench. When she arrives I want Elita to see her this way: on all fours, legs spread, exposed, waiting; prepared for her as if, in some debauched fantasy of Roman times, I had gifted this special slave to my Mistress. Which is, of course, exactly what I have done.
I hear Elita arrive, heels clicking as she heads to the bathroom to change.
It’s not just about the position though. Katie should be needy, wanting, desperate even. Coming at her from behind I bury my face in her sweet smelling cunt, licking, sucking, teasing until she’s gasping and moaning aloud, perched on the very edge. Then I leave her like that, squirming against the restraints, needing to orgasm like someone suffocating needs air.
I back myself up to the cross, place my hands behind it as if I had been tied there and wait. Katie looks perfect.
When Elita enters, all haughty silk and lace, she takes one look at Katie and smiles, though not a smile of amusement or gratitude.
She smiles as a wolf might smile, seeing a lamb caught in a fence.
She walks round Katie slowly, admiring her nearly naked body. There’s a slightly unnerving, yet highly erotic, fascination in watching Elita contemplate her prey in this way.
First though she gives me her usual affectionate greeting – which is to say she grabs both nipples and twists and squeezes them until I cry out, involuntarily pushing back against the cross, knees buckling, trying to escape her vicious grasp.
The warm-up act is over. I can only hope we’re both ready for the main event……….
What a vision!
You can find out what happened next here
Nice!
Very fine scene setting. Speaking of which, I like the setting (the space).