Whips Or Kisses

“Let me please you,” he responded, eyes moving up to look at me. Under short little spikey bangs. I could even see him swallow. “With my mouth.” I smiled. Finger moving to his lips. “And so it is.” He kissed it. The tip of my finger. Gracious. Eager. I almost felt sorry for what I was about to do. Almost. With his mouth. And so, it shall be. He reclined on my bed. On his back. Vulnerable. His wrists strapped down, spread far from his body. His ankles, still in those boots I find so irresistible, spread equally, locked down. A tight black t-shirt. Black jeans. A belt — hanging open a little, the buckle silver. And a tight black velvet blindfold. His eyes protested when I brought it out. But I said, softly, “All you need is your mouth.” And he nodded. Swallowed. Closed those innocent eyes. And was gone. Spikey little bangs hanging over black velvet. I paced, watching his body growing accustomed to the restraints. I watched, because that is what I like to do. I watched, like a stalking beast, looking over what I would soon have. My fingers moved over his chest once. His head moved in response. To the side, in short– timed — jerks. I imagined dripping water over his body. Or hot wax. I imagined him naked, vulnerable. I imagined giving him oral sex that would make him cringe, plead and beg. I imagined making him suck off each of my fingers. One. At. A. Time. Each time, longer than before. Hissing orders into his ear. Faster. Deeper. Wetter. Masturbating as I did. Sucking my own fingers clean. Tasting it. Instead, I watched. When I saw his hips move — just slightly — I knew it was time. He could hear the buckles of the device. His head turned toward me as I sat next to him on the bed, moving the device around in my hands to determine which end was which. Unfastening the buckles, I listened to his breathing. Felt him moving on the bed. His lips were parted, eagerly. My eyes peered over, my hands moving through latex buckles. “Open a little wider for me, baby. Let me see that tongue of yours.” He parted his lips, opening wider, let his tongue find its way out. Licking. Teasing. I was watching him now, not watching the evil contraption in my hands. Not feeling, anymore, the long black cock. The smooth, cock-shaped rubber. How it was attached to a strip of latex that would soon cover his mouth, riding tightly all the way up under his nose. The other side of it. Nearly eight inches of cock itself, more durable, rigid. Standing straight up. The side I would mount. Fuck. Right on top of his face. And he knew nothing. “You want to please me with your mouth?” I asked him. “Yes,” his response came at once. Eager. So innocent. “Then open wide,” I ordered. And he did. Even though he was blindfolded, I could almost see it behind the velvet. Eyes shut tight, wincing, wondering, gasping, choking. He shook his head instinctively when the rubber cock-shaped device invaded him. “Shhh…” I said, hoping he would hear me above his own choking, whimpering, betrayed gasps. “Trust me,” I whispered, leaning to his ear to breathe to him, distracting him as I locked the straps tightly. Buckling the cock securely into his mouth. And only if you could see me, now, I thought, straddling his chest and hiking up my skirt. I wasted no time. My hands were in his hair. Both of them. I looked down at him like he was some — some 20th century fuck toy. A device, in himself. That hair, hanging down, now damp with a little sweat. The gag locked tightly in his mouth. A nice, 7-inch cock extending up from his gagged mouth, glistening now as I stroked it, slowly, with lubrication. Maybe he smelled the scent of it. Maybe he felt the way my hips were moving suggestively on his chest. “I’m about to fuck you,” I said. Hissing, I imagine, because I was aching with desire. My pussy grinding, already, against the fabric of his t-shirt. I knew he could feel how wet I was. How hot I was. “You…” I hissed. “You have this big, thick cock sticking up from your face. I am going to sit on you. Sit on your face, do you understand? I am going to fuck you. I am going to cum on your face. You will feel it. You will feel it, because the harder I plunge myself down onto you, the deeper that cock will get shoved into your mouth.” He whimpered. It was a priceless, audible whimper. “I am masturbating, right now, on your chest. Getting myself ready.” My words, breathless, distracted him. I could tell. As I moved my fingers under my panties I saw him squirming, more now, and I studied him. Studied my prey. I eased my panties down. I eyed that cock I would soon mount. I though how helpless he must feel, unable to speak, to see. Knowing he was about to be fucked like an object. “You wanted me to use your mouth,” I hissed, leaning over, brushing my lips over his ear. “And I am.” To torture him, more, I moved my wet fingers under his nose. I held him still with my other hand, a fistful of hair, and made him inhale my scent. His whimpers sounded like half-sobs of frustration. “You want to be licking me, don’t you?” I asked. He did not respond, so I tightened my grip and growled, “DON’T YOU?” He nodded, nodded and whimpered a little. “Maybe you will get lucky, ” I said to him. “Maybe a trickle of me will find its way down under that latex, into that gag. And you will see how good I taste.” He was turning his head a little, disoriented, desperate. I used both hands to hold his head still. “Don’t move. I am ready now.” A slight whimper. I raised myself up. Opened my thighs above his head. Only if he could see me, I thought. And felt it — the tip of that cock, sticking straight up and waiting for me. I teased my lips with it for just a moment, eyes closed, holding the headboard now for leverage. I moaned, softly. I could hear the jingling of straps as he pulled at his wrists and ankles, knowing better than to move his head even an inch. I felt the cock filling me, slowly, and I opened my mouth and let out a gasp. Sliding. Deeper. I moaned. And then I felt his hair tickling the insides of my thighs. A blur. Mostly. I fucked him that way, slowly at first. Then gaining momentum, holding the bed for leverage, plunging myself down onto his face — as it was — feeling the latex of the cock filling me again and again. Dripping, soaking. My pussy coated it, and soon the wetness dripped down, slowly, almost reaching his lips. And when I looked down at him, momentarily, I almost felt sympathy for him, so used. Reaching under with my fingers, I felt the aching wetness of my sex. I tasted it myself, and I told him how good it tasted. I told him to hold still for me. To remain as he was — my fucktoy. And I came. I came right on top of him, grinding my hips in a slow, circular motion. Fully penetrated by the cock that extended from his face. Came so hard that my juices coated his nose, his hair was sticky now. Holding his hair between my fingers, breathing hard. Leaning against the headboard to keep me up. And I could hear his breathing. Feel it brushing against my thighs. And even though I had just cum, I longed to feel it between my legs. Against my pussy. His tongue, deep inside me. Breathing hard, I slowly slid off of the large latex cock that filled me. I lowered my body onto him. I could feel his chest heaving. He felt so alive. My fingers found way to his hair. My eyes were still closed. I wondered, then, if he had the energy to do it again. This time, though, with his tongue. Looking at him, trapped in his darkness, unable to speak. I knew. And as I unlocked the strap that held the gag in place, I was already wanting it again. And he would have no chance to even speak once the cock was pulled from his mouth. e fucked like an object. “You wanted me to use your mouth,” I hissed, leaning over, brushing my lips over his ear. “And I am.” To torture him, more, I moved my wet fingers under his nose. I held him still with my other hand, a fistful of hair, and made him inhale my scent. His whimpers sounded like half-sobs of frustration. “You want to be licking me, don’t you?” I asked. He did not respond, so I tightened my grip and growled, “DON’T YOU?” He nodded, nodded and whimpered a little. “Maybe you will get lucky, ” I said to him. “Maybe a trickle of me will find its way down under that latex, into that gag. And you will see how good I taste.” He was turning his head a little, disoriented, desperate. I used both hands to hold his head still. “Don’t move. I am ready now.” A slight whimper. I raised myself up. Opened my thighs above his head. Only if he could see me, I thought. And felt it — the tip of that cock, sticking straight up and waiting for me. I teased my lips with it for just a moment, eyes closed, holding the headboard now for leverage. I moaned, softly. I could hear the jingling of straps as he pulled at his wrists and ankles, knowing better than to move his head even an inch. I felt the cock filling me, slowly, and I opened my mouth and let out a gasp. Sliding. Deeper. I moaned. And then I felt his hair tickling the insides of my thighs. A blur. Mostly. I fucked him that way, slowly at first. Then gaining momentum, holding the bed for leverage, plunging myself down onto his face — as it was — feeling the latex of the cock filling me again and again. Dripping, soaking. My pussy coated it, and soon the wetness dripped down, slowly, almost reaching his lips. And when I looked down at him, momentarily, I almost felt sympathy for him, so used. Reaching under with my fingers, I felt the aching wetness of my sex. I tasted it myself, and I told him how good it tasted. I told him to hold still for me. To remain as he was — my fucktoy. And I came. I came right on top of him, grinding my hips in a slow, circular motion. Fully penetrated by the cock that extended from his face. Came so hard that my juices coated his nose, his hair was sticky now. Holding his hair between my fingers, breathing hard. Leaning against the headboard to keep me up. And I could hear his breathing. Feel it brushing against my thighs. And even though I had just cum, I longed to feel it between my legs. Against my pussy. His tongue, deep inside me. Breathing hard, I slowly slid off of the large latex cock that filled me. I lowered my body onto him. I could feel his chest heaving. He felt so alive. My fingers found way to his hair. My eyes were still closed. I wondered, then, if he had the energy to do it again. This time, though, with his tongue. Looking at him, trapped in his darkness, unable to speak. I knew. And as I unlocked the strap that held the gag in place, I was already wanting it again. And he would have no chance to even speak once the cock was pulled from his mouth.

By wickid’s pet

He was running late.  Traffic had slowed because of an accident, and it had put him about 15 minutes behind.  Joe knew he should have left home sooner, rather than playing it so close.  This did not bode well for a first play session with his prospective mistress.  They had corresponded online for a few weeks now, getting to know each other, and learning each other’s likes and dislikes.  As an office manager, Joe spent each day supervising personnel, giving orders and bossing people around.   Little did his co-workers suspect that he was really a submissive at heart, and had an urgent desire to be dominated.

Joe had had other mistresses in the past, but Ms Donna had a certain special dominating quality that greatly appealed to his submissive side.  She was a statuesque blonde with an attractive figure and killer legs.  They had met for dinner at a nearby restaurant a week earlier to get acquainted face to face.  Ms Donna did most of the talking during that first meeting.  “Joe, before I accept you as a slave, you must prove yourself worthy of Me.  I have scheduled a play session at My home.  “I will expect you at My home, one week from tonight, where we will see whether you measure up as an obedient slave.  I will expect you at 6:30 sharp.  You will bring a tote bag containing your various restraints and toys, including a collar and handcuffs.”  Joe lowered his eyes and murmured “Yes, Maam”.

Now it was 6:47 as he pulled into her driveway.  Grabbing the tote bag as he exited the car, he walked quickly down the sidewalk and up the few steps of the porch to her front door.  He was about to ring the doorbell when he saw a note taped to the wall just below the button.  Retrieving the note and opening it, he read: ”When you arrive, you are to remove all clothing and place them in your car.  Lock the car and place the keys in your tote bag.  Pull out your collar and handcuffs.  You will then put on your collar.  You will see a short chain which is locked securely to the porch railing.  Clip the other end of the chain to you collar, then put the handcuffs on behind your back.  When you are finished, kneel on the porch and ring the doorbell with your nose.”  Joe hurriedly complied with the note’s instructions.  After stripping naked and stowing his clothes, he put on the collar and clipped the chain to it.  Next, he picked up the handcuffs and locked one around his left wrist.  Placing his hands behind his back, he took a deep breath, knowing this was the point of no return.  Once he locked the other handcuff on, he was helpless to do anything.  He could not run away, nor could he cover himself should anyone happen along.  Before he could change his mind, he quickly ratcheted the other cuff on.  Gingerly dropping to his knees, he made his way over to the doorbell button and pressed it with his nose, then settled back on his heels.

A few minutes went by without any sign of Ms Donna.  After about five minutes, he began to worry – did he have the right day?  Of course he did – he had been counting the days all week!  Maybe She wasn’t home – and he would be stuck there until someone rescued him!  He began to test the security of the handcuffs, to see if there was enough slack in them to slip one off.  No such luck – he had been too good at securing himself.  He backed away from the porch rail, to see if there was any chance the chain might not be properly secured.  Again, no such luck – the taut chain held perfectly.  At ten minutes, he started to panic – what if he were forced to be here all night?  Still kneeling, he hobbled over to the doorbell button and pressed it again with his nose, this time holding it in for a few seconds to ensure a ring.  A few seconds later, the door opened, and Ms Donna stepped out, a vision in a stunning low-cut long black dress and calf-high black leather high heeled boots. Her natural blonde hair fluttered in the breeze.  She looked down on him, hands on Her hips.  Joe bowed to Her, placing his forehead on the floor.  “I thought you wouldn’t mind waiting a few extra minutes, since you have kept Me waiting all this time, slave,” She told him.  “You may beg to kiss My boots,” she exclaimed, pushing his head in the direction of Her right boot with the end of Her crop.  Not wanting to incur any more of Her wrath, he said “Please Mistress, may I kiss Your boots?”  “I have not yet decided if I will be your Mistress,” she told him.  “You will call me Ms Donna or Ma’am for now.”  “Please Ms Donna, may I kiss Your boots?” as he prepared to do so.  Before he could kiss Her boot, she placed the end of the crop between his lips and the boot.  “Kissing My boots is a privilege – you must first earn that privilege by begging for punishment.  You may apologize for being late and beg for punishment.”  “Ms Donna, I apologize for being late, and beg for punishment.” he replied softly, as he kissed the crop.  Pick a number between one and ten,” she ordered.  Joe pondered this for a moment.  Whatever number he picked was sure to figure in on how many blows he received with the crop.  “Two,” he replied timidly.  “Two it is – your sentence of ten blows has been increased by two!” She laughed evilly, as She carried out the sentence of twelve blows on his back, arms and legs.  “You may now thank Me for your punishment and kiss My boots”, she told him.  “Thank you, Ms Donna, for my punishment, and for the honor of kissing Your boots,” he replied, covering Her boots with kisses.  When he was finished, She turned and walked back in the house.  “I’ll be right back – don’t run away, now!” she laughed.  She returned with a dog leash and clipped it to his collar, simultaneously releasing the chain.  Picking up his tote bag, she pulled him by the leash to a standing position, then bent him at the waist till his upper body was horizontal.  Then, gripping the leash where it joined the collar, she led him into the house.

Once in the living room, She ordered him again to his knees.  He sat back on his heels, eyes lowered.  Reclining on the couch, she extended a foot toward Joe and announced “You may beg me to lick My boots.”  Instead of responding as ordered, Joe made the mistake of glancing up briefly at Ms Donna.  “Did I tell you to look at me?” she snapped, giving his body a couple of swats with Her crop.  “No Ms Donna, please forgive me.    M-May I please have the honor of licking Your boots?”  With an air of boredom, she said, “You may begin.  I want to see every inch of these boots cleaned, both tops and bottoms.  Got it?”  “Yes, Ms Donna.” he replied respectfully.  As he bent to his task (literally), he found it more difficult than expected, as his hands were still locked together behind his back.  Starting at the toe, he worked his way back to the high heel of each boot and up to the boot tops.  Then, as he sat back up, she lifted each boot in turn so he could clean off the soles.  “Make sure you suck every bit of dirt off the heels,” She told him.

When he finished with Her boots, she got up and led him into the bathroom.  She had him kneel facing a wall and tied his leash to a towel bar.  Joe knelt stoically as Ms Donna removed her boots first, then her dress, leaving her attired in only a thong.  She bent down and unbuckled Joe’s collar.  “You may remove My thong,” she announced.  He turned on his knees to face her.  With his hands still secured behind his back, he only had one option.  He leaned forward and gingerly gripped the right side of her thong in his teeth.  After pulling it down a few inches, he had to switch sides and start again.  Finally, he made it far enough down her thighs to slip it all the way down to her feet.  As she stepped out of the thong, she told him to stay down.  “Before I take a shower, I need a little pre-wash.  You will now clean My feet,” she ordered, extending a foot.  Joe bent to his task, beginning with her toes.  He ran his tongue slowly over each toe, starting with her little toe and working his way up to the big toe.   As she lifted her foot, he carefully licked the underside of each toe, then took each one into his mouth and sucked on it.  Next, he started taking two toes at once into his mouth, running his tongue in between and massaging the sensitive skin, eliciting a few contented moans from his domme.  Once finished, he began making long sweeps up and down the length of her foot, top and bottom, with his tongue.  When she was satisfied, she extended her other foot for a replay.

Once he was finished, she walked over to the shower stall and stepped in.  “Get up and join me in the shower,” she told him.  When he had entered the shower stall, she reached out and closed the door.  “Open,” she ordered, looking him straight in the eye.  When he complied, she stuffed one end of an oval-shaped sponge into his mouth.  “Do not drop this, or else,” she said.  After turning on the shower and adjusting the temperature, she opened a bottle of liquid soap and poured a generous amount on the sponge still held in Joe’s mouth.  “You may now wash Me,” she announced.  Joe began at her neck, dragging the sponge back and forth across her skin.  He worked his way around and down, scrubbing her shoulders, back and breasts.  Kneeling down, he continued the cleansing of her beautiful body.  He washed her stomach and lower back.  As he began washing her buns, she grabbed him by the hair and forced his nose into her crack, running it up and down to ensure a thorough cleaning of that area.  Joe had to breathe through his mouth, which still held the sponge.  Next, she turned around and allowed him to sponge her pussy.  After a few seconds, she grabbed his hair and forced his face into her slit.  This time, she maneuvered his head until his nose was touching her clit.  She began rubbing his nose up and down, and back and forth vigorously.  As she approached orgasm, she began to moan, which soon developed into a series of pants and groans.  A loud wail escaped her lips as she arched her back and let the first climax of the evening wash over her.  Joe obediently kept rubbing her clit with his nose.  Once she gained her composure, she told him to finish his cleaning task.  Shaking his head to clear the soap out of his nose, Joe proceeded to scrub her legs and feet.

When the shower was finished, Ms Donna stepped out of the stall and held the door for Joe to follow.  She picked up a nearby clothes hanger with spring clips built in.  She proceeded to clip the hanger to Joe’s nipples, and placed the hook end over a towel bar.

Standing on tiptoe, Joe’s nipples were stretched painfully upward.  “Just hanging you out to dry,” she told him with a smirk.  After she had towel dried, she left the bathroom to get herself a drink.  She sat in the bedroom and relaxed for a few minutes, leaving Joe to drip dry in the bathroom.  When she was satisfied he was dry, she unclipped the hanger from his nipples and re-attached the collar and leash.  Untying the leash from the towel bar, she led him into the bedroom and had him kneel, facing the side of the bed.  Laying the leash straight out on the bed, she sat down in front of Joe, facing him and straddling the leash.  She pulled the leash taut behind her, pulling Joe’s head forward and down toward her crotch.  Picking up a crop, she used it to push his head all the way down to her puss.  “You may now beg to pleasure me, slave.” she ordered.  “Please my I pleasure You, Ms Donna?” Joe murmured.  SMACK!  A slap of the crop exploded on his back.  “I don’t hear much sincerity, slave; try again.”  “PLEASE may I pleasure You, Ms Donna?” Joe asked, a little louder this time.  SMACK!  “PLEASE may this slave have the honor of pleasuring You?” Joe croaked.  “That’s better, slavc, you’re learning.  Get busy.”  He began gingerly licking up and down her outer lips.  SMACK!  This was his signal to apply himself.  He dove in, probing with his tongue and eliciting a few moans.  He gradually made his way up to her clit, driving her wild.  As she rode his tongue through wave after wave of pleasure, she kept him on task with an occasional swat of her crop.

Finally, she was satisfied and allowed him a break.  She was in a very good place now, having had several mind blowing orgasms.  She decided to reward her slave (yes, Her slave).  She allowed him to lay across the bed and she lay down next to him, with her feet by his head, and vice versa.  “You may lick My feet, slave,” she told him.  “Would you like to cum?”  “Yes Ms Donna if it pleased You,” Joe answered quickly.  She began stroking him as he happily licked her feet.  “You will not cum without permission, slave.”  “Yes, Ms Donna,” he answered.

“You may address Me as Mistress,” she said kindly.