Monday, 9 April 2012

Coming home (Part 2)

Once Mistress had finished photographing, I heard the camera being placed on the table and felt her walk towards me. I tensed, expecting more pain, but instead I felt my hands (still bound together) being released from the beam above. Without a word I was led by my roped hands to the bedroom, and told to stand whilst the bed was prepared. My hands were directed to my thankfully still erect member and I was ordered to keep myself hard. She placed the end of the rope between my teeth and adjusted the length to make the movement just difficult enough for me to know that I wasn't being allowed to touch myself for my own pleasure.

After a few moments I was ordered to lie on my back in the centre of the bed. My hands were bound tightly to the bed above my head, and my legs spread wide. Mistress then roped my ankles to the corners of the bed, stretching me out so that all but the slightest movement was impossible. Loving my predicament, she took her opportunity to tease me by rubbing herself hard against my cock, whilst reminding me repeatedly that I was not going to be allowed to come. She writhed on top of me, grinding against me, as I struggled to avoid orgasm. Suddenly, I felt my head being jerked back by the hair, and a warm breast was pushed forcefully towards my lips. 'Use your tongue! Come on, use it!'. I sucked hard and drew my tongue across the nipple as my face was thrust forwards by the back of my head. She was clearly dissatisfied with my work and suggested that I could do better. I doubled my effort, sucking and licking, as she roughly pressed my face into her. Unfortunately I just couldn't meet her expectations, 'Not good enough!'. The breast withdrew and I felt a ringing slap to my cheek. Then another, and another. 'Now. Use your tongue! You can do much better than that!' I tried again in vain, slurping and licking, gently clasping her nipples between my teeth, but to no avail. Six more loud slaps to the face. 'Now, time for your punishment. Remember, slave, you are not coming tonight.' My mouth was prised open, and three juice laden fingers wiped across my tongue. 

'Taste me', she commanded. I eagerly licked them clean, savouring every last morsel of their musky coating. By the time I'd lapped up a few more sticky 'fingerfuls', MIstress' hand was covered in my saliva. With her dry hand, she grabbed my cock and began to pump it furiously. 'Remember, you are not coming tonight!'. I gritted my teeth and did my best to resist whilst the wet hand began to transfer my saliva to my balls, supplementing it with her own. Mistress is the only woman I have experienced who uses this technique, and I have to say I find it wonderfully erotic. 'Please, stop!' I begged. I was perilously close to orgasm and new that the penalty would be harsh if I couldn't control myself. She let go, and for a brief second, and I thought it was over. Not so. Her tongue began to softly probe my balls, whilst the hand pumped again. 'Please!'. I struggled desperately to stop myself shooting sperm across the bed. Again, she stopped. This time, after a few seconds, I felt her mouth engulfing the head of my cock. I groaned with the agony of denial as once again, her hand wanked me hard. I lost track of time in between my repeated cries for mercy and her relentless taunting, but apparently I had lasted the full 15 minutes without disobeying her orders, as I eventually heard her whisper 'Well done baby. You did it'. 

I relaxed and revelled in the achievement, despite desperately needing relief. I had taken my punishment and pleased my Mistress once more. My aching balls and stinging buttocks were plentiful reward. After such a long time away from BDSM, I was glad to have finally come home, albeit without actually being allowed to come.

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