A Mistress and Her Slave

Jared slept only fitfully. First of all, his backside still stung quite badly. Secondly, he was worried equally that he would sleep beyond the time he would need to get breakfast ready for his mistress and about how he was going to make it with the hood blinding his sight. Laurel, on the other hand, slept wonderfully again, the last two nights having been more restful that any she'd had in years. When her alarm went off at 6:30, she awoke, not groggily as usual, not lying in bed hoping for a few more minutes of warmth and comfort, but eagerly, refreshed and ready to face the day.

She felt a bit cruel, both for having whipped Jared so viciously and for her parting comment the night before, which she rightfully thought had negatively impacted his sleep. But she didn't feel bad for feeling cruel. Quite to the contrary—it sent a little charge through her that radiated outward from between her legs. She put on her robe, grabbed the balm she had used on him before bed, and went to his room to wake him.

She caught him in one of the brief periods of sleep he had enjoyed since finally dozing off around two in the morning, though of course he had no idea what time it was when he finally managed to drift off. She unlocked his hood, which was enough to wake him, and then pulled back the covers. She was pleased to see his limp penis immediately begin to swell.

"I'm so glad, slave, that my mere presence arouses you. Now roll over." He did so, at which point she applied more of the balm to his damaged skin. "There. I hope it's feeling better. Though not too much better, as I want there to be no mistake as to why you hurt. Something light for breakfast this morning. Toast, a grapefruit half, and coffee should suffice. You will get some groceries today. Please check for anything I'm almost out of and get whatever you see fit for meals for the next week. Your keys will be on the counter. Please return them to the safe when you get back. Be gone no longer than ninety minutes. I've also thought about your contact with the outside world. Please continue to correspond with friends or family electronically, by e-mail or on Facebook or whatever you normally do. However, no mention will be made of me or our situation. Before I leave for work, you will write your passwords down for me so that I may keep tabs on your communication. Do you have a problem with that?"

"No, Mistress," Jared replied.

"Good. I have a cellphone for you as well. I'll put it on the kitchen counter before I leave. It is to be used solely for communicating with me. I am the only one who has the number, and you will give it to no one else. You are only to receive calls or messages from me; under no circumstances will you contact me unbidden except in the most dire of emergencies. Primarily this is so I can let you know if I am running late, or if something has come up that will keep me away in the evening. I also may have tasks for you from time to time. Any failure on your part to respond to a text, when requested, or to answer a call, will result in punishment. I'll see you at breakfast, slave."

Her control over this man was becoming more and more exciting for her, to the point that she was in an almost constant state of arousal throughout the day. Jared was as well, as she could tell from the way his cock never dropped much below half-mast, at least when she was around. In fact, this state continued for him even when she was away. He'd been used to masturbating at least a couple of times a day, certainly since the divorce but even during most of his marriage—some days even four or five times. With the inherent eroticism of his current situation and his mistress's restrictions on self-pleasure, he was rarely not at least somewhat turned on, even while cleaning the house. And despite the four ejaculations he'd had in the last two days, he was feeling the dull ache of unrequited arousal.

Laurel's workday went from bad to worse. Several meetings with normally-difficult clients went as expected, but even clients she enjoyed seemed to be going out of their way to make her life difficult today. One meeting went so poorly she dropped the client on the spot in a fit of anger, saying goodbye to nearly $40,000 in annual billings. After she stormed out of the conference room and slammed her office door behind her, Laurel fell heavily into her desk chair, seething inside but trying to regain her composure. After a few minutes she heard a quiet knock on her door.

"Ms. French?" came a tentative voice through the door.

"Come in, Jessalyn," she said.

Jessalyn, her young secretary, entered, shutting the door behind her. Jessalyn had proved quite an asset to the office in her relatively brief tenure, rising from receptionist to Laurel's personal assistant in less than a year.

"Is everything ok?" the younger woman asked.

"It's fine," Laurel said. "Just...having a bad day."

"Is there anything I can do?"

"As a matter of fact, there is." Laurel pulled out a file from her desk drawer and slid it across her desk. "I'm stuck on this one. Take it home and look it over and see what you can come up with."

"But...I'm just a secretary, Ms. French," Jessalyn said.

"You've been working here long enough to have a pretty good understanding of what it is we do. I've been impressed with your work. Consider yourself promoted."

"I...I don't know what to say."

"Don't say anything. Just rise to the challenge. I'm going home early." Before she left she sent a text to Jared's new phone that read simply, "Bath in one hour, dinner to follow."

The traffic on the way home was atrocious, even though it was well before rush hour. This soured Laurel's mood even more. By the time she got home, she felt like beating her slave's ass just to vent her frustrations; but, given its condition from her attentions the night before, she knew she couldn't, not unless he gave her a very good reason.

He didn't, somewhat to her disappointment. But the steaming bath, which had been scented lightly with lavender bath oils (not because of her direction, but quite pleasing nonetheless) made a tremendous difference, and she once again felt immensely satisfied at having a legitimate slave, quite apart from the sexual elements of the arrangement. Another outstanding dinner removed much more of her tension, as did the foot massage she received, at her command, while she ate.

She retired to the living room to watch a movie while her slave cleared the table and washed the dishes. When he was finished, she called him in.

"Slave, fetch your hood. There's also a mouth panel with a gag built in. Bring that as well."

"Yes, Mistress." When he returned, she noticed his cock had gone from semi-rigid to almost fully erect. She paused the movie and smirked up at him.

"Do you think this is for your enjoyment, slave?"

"No, Mistress."

"Then why is your pathetic little slave dick getting hard?"

"It's involuntary, Mistress."

"So in other words, you can't control yourself?"

"No, Mistress. You control me."

"So I do. In that case, make it limp."

Jared tried with all his might to reduce his erection at least a little, but the situation proved more than a match for his will power, and the presence of his mistress giving him an order and watching him expectantly with her piercing blue eyes only made him grow firmer. After thirty seconds or so, Laurel had had enough.

"Crop," she said simply. Jared went to retrieve it. The fear of being whipped across his backside actually had some of the desired effect, and when he returned he was closer to half-mast than to fully erect. Still, there was an undeniable level of arousal communicated by his cock.

Laurel wrapped her thumb and forefinger about halfway down his dick, squeezing tightly until the head began to darken with blood. Holding the crop far up its length to maximize her control, she struck the tip of his penis sharply. She repeated this every few seconds, pleased that her slave was not uttering a sound, although she could tell from his body's movements and his breath that she was indeed administering an ample amount of pain. She could feel the diameter in her grip begin to diminish. After fifteen or twenty blows, she released him, and saw with some satisfaction that his cock was almost entirely flaccid.

"I can see that's something we'll have to work on. If I want you limp, I expect you to go limp, just as readily as I expect you to be hard when I want you hard. This is my cock, and I expect it to behave as such. Understood?"

"Yes, Mistress."

"Good. Now, hood on." Jared put it on, securing the zipper in the back. Laurel locked it around his neck and then placed the gag into his mouth. It was a soft leather plug, nowhere near the size of the ball gag she had used the first night. But, when the mouth panel was snapped into place, it was every bit as effective, and even his loudest screams would not be audible much beyond the confines of the living room. Still, she felt she had to test this.

"Turn around," she commanded. He did. The welts on his backside still looked quite raw. She applied one sharp blow with the crop, and the scream that issued from his mouth, covered and filled as it was, was pleasantly muffled.

"Don't worry, slave. I was just testing your gag. I find it satisfactory. Do you?"

"Yes, Mistress," was what she assumed his response was.

"Now, I'm going to finish watching my movie. You will stand behind me and massage my neck and shoulders until I tell you to stop, which will not be any time prior to the end of the movie."

His hands were a little clumsy at times, she thought, but the ardor with which he worked more than made up for whatever expertise he lacked. For over an hour he kneaded every last drop of tension from her muscles.

As the credits came up, Laurel stopped the film and waited for a transgression, but to her delight Jared continued unabated. She let him go on for a few more minutes.

"That will do, slave. Are you hard again?"

"Yes, Mistress," he tried to say through the gag and the thick leather. She turned to see his full erection.

"Very nice, slave. For a pathetic slave cock, that is. Bedroom. You may relieve yourself in the bathroom on the way, if necessary."

He picked his way carefully around the sofa and through the room, finding the doorway with his hands, and proceeded down the hall, Laurel following at some distance behind. He turned into the bathroom and urinated, careful to sit down on the toilet to prevent any unwanted drips. Laurel watched this with more than a little satisfaction. When he had finished, washed, and continued on to the bedroom, she said, "Stop," and then removed the mouth panel from the hood. She couldn't believe how relaxed she felt, especially considering the tension that had built up in her body during the course of the day. The bath, the meal, the massages, the feeling of utter freedom from housework, and, maybe most satisfying of all, the fact that she didn't have to care—in fact, didn't care—about the comfort or needs of the man that was doing all this for her. In the past, any time she'd been massaged, or had dinner cooked for her, there was always an unspoken notion of quid pro quo attached. "I cooked you dinner, now you'll go to bed with me." But now...now there was none of that. Just her needs being fulfilled. It made her pussy practically throb.

"Now, what should we do with that hard little cock of mine this evening?" she asked.

"Anything you wish, Mistress."

"Anything I wish. So correct, slave."

From her cedar chest, Laurel took out several leather straps, about 3 inches in width and of varying lengths, each with a rolling buckle and several holes—belts, essentially. She laid them on the bed.

"Lay down on the straps, slave." He did so. She proceeded to fasten them around his body, first his ankles, then just below and just above his knees. A fourth went around his waist and also pinned his wrists to his sides. A fifth did the same for his forearms, and a sixth his upper arms. She pulled them taut enough to be uncomfortable; they dug into Jared's flesh but not enough to restrict his blood flow to any significant degree. Finally, she fastened each of the buckles with a little padlock. Jared was more or less completely immobilized. He could probably have rolled over, but anything else was beyond question.

From the chest, Laurel took another mouth panel to fit the hood, identical to the first on the inside portion but with a large silicone phallus projecting outward as well. She inserted it into Jared's willing mouth and snapped it into place.

"I have decided, slave, that we're not going to anything at all with my cock. Does that disappoint you?"

"No, Mistress," came the muffled reply.

"I find that hard to believe, slave. Be perfectly honest. Does that disappoint you?"

"Yes, Mistress."

"It does? Well, I'll tell you what." She reached into her nightstand drawer and took out her vibrator and a pump bottle of lube. She squirted some of the lube onto his erection and watched the thick clear liquid slowly dribble down his shaft. "I'm going to stroke your cock five times. Just five. If you can come in those five strokes, you're welcome to do so. If not, too bad for you."

She wrapped her hand around the base of his shaft and slowly slid up it, but was careful to lift her index finger off as she approached the tip, not wanting to stimulate the underside of his head. As she slid back down, a bit faster, she counted, "One." She could feel him stiffening against his bonds. She repeated her movement at the same pace, counting, "Two." Then she gave two quick up-and-down strokes. "Three four." She held the base of his cock firmly, and began to press down into his balls. Finally she moved up and down at an intermediate pace, counted, "Five," and let go of the rigid member.

"Oh, that's a shame, slave. I know you were so close," she said, drawing out the last two words teasingly. "I, on the other hand, will have no difficulty coming." With that, she squirted some lube onto the dildo that jutted from Jared's leather-encased face, swung one leg over his chest, and lowered herself onto the fake cock. She teased herself at first, experimenting with depth of penetration and the speed at which she moved up and down, but then fell into a steady rhythm. She rested her hands on Jared's chest for support and soon had the dildo buried deep inside her, no longer riding up and down but instead grinding it around inside her. Normally she had difficulty achieving orgasm without the aid of a vibrator, but her arousal was such that she knew she wouldn't need it this time. With one hand she reached down and began to rub her clit. A few seconds of this was all it took as the walls of her cunt convulsed around the slick silicon. She knew she had another one in her, though. Temporarily dismounting, she swung around so that she was facing the head of the bed, and then re-impaled herself on the dildo. With both hands, she grasped the back of Jared's hooded head and simultaneously mashed herself down onto him while pulling the dildo up into her sopping vagina.

Jared knew of course exactly what she was doing, although he could feel nothing but the pressure of her hands on the back of his head and the leather of the hood pressing into his mouth and lips. The pain of his lips being pressed down onto his teeth was building as she repeatedly pushed down onto him, harder and harder until it was almost as if he was being punched in the mouth. He longed to be able to see his mistress's body riding him in this way, her breasts heaving up and down, the look of ecstasy on her face. As it was, he could only imagine the sight. The tightness of his bonds kept him from being able to do anything with his body, and though straining against them was pleasurable, he eventually let himself go limp. All except for his cock, which was aching for a release he knew would not come, although a glimmer of hope for mercy from his mistress remained.

Finally, Laurel cried out in pleasure as she came again, this time without any manual stimulation of her clit, but simply from the pounding her pussy was taking. She stopped her movements as she came and instead concentrated on pressing the dildo as deeply inside her as possible.

Now sated, for the time being, she rolled off onto her back. She couldn't help but admire the bound, naked body beside her, rigid cock straining against the confines of its skin. She ran her hand over Jared's chest, said, "Thank you, slave," and turned out the light.