Amanda Adams Becomes My Queen

I've never worn make-up before. I've never even tried lipstick. The closest I've gotten is putting on the beeswax stuff on my lips so they didn't get sunburned. I love some glam-rock bands and that look never looked wrong to me, so the idea of you putting makeup on me isn't entirely repulsive. My curiosity is about to get the better of me. If I've ever wondered what I'd look like as a girl, you're about to help me settle some of those questions.

You make me sit on the bed by the bedside table and pull up the chair in the corner by the writing desk for yourself. You've changed slightly into work mode and the creativity looks good on you especially wearing your black lingerie, I can tell you intend to do as flattering a job as possible.

You have a little routine you go through with my eyes. You apply masquera and eye-shadow, "This is a nice shade on you... it makes your blue eyes look so big and pretty."

Then you apply cover-up and a hint of blush to my cheeks and cheek bones. You finally pull out a light pink lipstick to match my yoga pants, "Almost done, Buttercup, you're going to look so cute for your pictures... Don't worry, I'll probably only send them to your wife- but who knows what she'll do with them?" you laugh.

"You're all done; and looking so cute. I could just eat you up. Now go stand in front of the mirror again. I'd like to catch more than one angle of you in these shots."

I do. You do.

"Do little poses! Show me sexy... Stick out your butt... Look at me over your shoulder..."

After you make me do 16 poses, you leave me to stand there looking at myself as you look at your pictures admiringly.

"These turned out nice, but the lighting isn't great... I need daylight... Or a studio."

*

"Well you're all dressed up with nowhere to go now! And how sad it's almost bed time... you've had quite the day, haven't you, Buttercup?"

"Yes my Queen."

"Tomorrow is going to be even longer; you're going to have so much work to do and training to receive. Should we go to bed now?"

"That's entirely up to you, my Queen, I don't feel very sleepy."

"I haven't given you details on sleeping arrangements, they're pretty simple really..."

The key around your neck catches the light and gleams at me, "You shall assist me in my nighttime routine: stand by while I let down my hair, undress, and change into my sleeping things- sometimes I just prefer to sleep nude- or nude save a necklace... Then you will accompany me to the bathroom and offer what assistance I might ask in brushing my hair and teeth and whatever else I might need to do in there... Then you will tuck me in and stand by my bed side until I drift off to sleep... When you are sure that I'm sleeping only then may you return to your room and sleep yourself. Would all that be agreeable to my Buttercup?"

"Yes indeed, my Queen."

"If I'm overtaken by a capricious mood and pull you into my bed that's my own business, and you must leave immediately if I ever command you to, understand?"

"Yes, your Majesty."

*

"Now follow me."

I follow you into your large master bedroom adorned with fine dark curtains covering massive windows. You must love wood floors a lot to have them in your own bedroom. A polar-bear skin rug covers the floor at the foot of your four post bed. I'm even more intimidated- there seems to be no end to your majesty.

"Here's where you'll stand when I'm changing- on that X."

On the floor is an actual cross of blue masking tape. I stand on it.

"You may glance at me while I change but you may not stare- try to be a lady."

You begin to strip off your lingerie matter-of-factly. I'm really doing my best not to stare but my wide eyes fail me. I'm mesmerized and you know it.

"You're dangerously close to earning ten strokes for staring," you smile and raise an eyebrow.

At the mention of more strokes my ass cries out to me with pain pleading for me to avert my eyes. I don't want to feel your sting any more tonight, and manage to move my gaze from the splendid show you're putting on.

"I think I will sleep nude tonight after all," you decide as you let your hair down.

Ironically now you are nude- save the necklace- and I am wearing the clothes you gave me. At the sight of you walking into the bathroom in front of me I want nothing more than to beg you to unlock me and take me to bed, but I know that would be the ultimate mistake- and I would never sell you on the idea that way. I try not to think about the aching blue pain spreading upward from between my legs and instead think about taking my place on the next blue X and serving you faithfully just as you commanded me.

In the bathroom I drink in what visions of you I can without staring.

You begin to soliloquize, "I think I might collar you as soon as tomorrow... I guess that all depends on how tonight goes... I admit that I've been having fun so far, but now that I'm naked I can feel wetness begin to pool at my lips and soon it may run down my inner thigh. I am the Queen and I should have what I want. Sometimes what I want is satisfaction and when I do, I take it."

At that you turn to me and grab my cage trough the pink pants, "Do I deserve satisfaction, slave girl? Don't answer with words! Answer with throbs. I don't have to listen to my body and right now I just can't make up my mind... Considering how early it is in your training, the responsible thing for a Queen to do would be to send you back to your rooms to wash the makeup off your face and afterward, have you immediately go to bed. Then I could vibrate myself to a loud orgasm and fall fast asleep with you listening from your room."

*

I can literally say nothing while you're speaking, I just hope you don't notice that I'm shaking with desire. You finish your teeth and hand me a hairbrush, "Brush my hair while I sit and relax."

I can see why you like this nighttime routine, it must be very meditative for you, but my heart is hammering away as I do this thing which seems at once so mundane and yet so intimate. Every time you close your eyes I drink in your image from the mirror- your nudity. You seem so natural in it- so unashamed- invulnerable.

After many brushstrokes, you take my wrist and then grab the brush from my hand, "Good girl, I think we have discovered one of your hidden talents... Can't wait to uncover more of them."

You lithely get up and lead me by the hand to your bedside, "This is the spot you stand by and patiently wait for me to drift off."

"Yes, my Queen." I expect you to draw back the bed spread or have me do it, but instead you do something amazing. You crawl onto your bed with your elbows and knees on the comforter and point your ass directly out at me. I'm staring with utter astonishment. You look back at me over your shoulder, "There is one more thing I'm craving tonight... it's something that makes me feel so adored and helps me to fall asleep faster than a glass of warm cream... Buttercup, kiss my ass and take your time; I'll tell you when you're done. And keep your hands on the bed or I'll have to cuff them behind you again. Do not mess up this opportunity."

*

This is when I totally lose it. It's as if you're inviting me to cut with you to the front of some extremely long line. You're wagging your butt invitingly but it only takes a second for me to move into this should-be-humiliating servitude. Now your womanly butt is a part of you that my DNA screams out at me to love and admire and as demeaning as it is, and as subservient as it makes me, I am singing inside that you decided to reinforce your authority over me by making me your ass kisser.

I begin kissing first with my lips and am impressed by your not-unpleasant musk. I can really feel my animal instincts taking over. How will I ever be able to keep myself from taking this further? Then I see the chain gleaming as ever around the back of your neck and remember your words: hands on the bed.

If my cock has ever strained at this new prison, it's straining now, and I can feel that metal beginning to bite.

The old 'vanilla' man I was only hours ago would have cross examined even the most hygienic woman about how exactly she had cleaned herself before diving in to such a potentially dirty project; but with you, that question is completely irrelevant. And I don't ask it- even in my head- as I plunge my tongue in and feel you squeeze around it. Your encouraging moans are melting my mind.

"Good Buttercup, good girl!" you whisper and moan. I wonder- not really caring- if you'll ever tell me to stop.

*

But you don't tell me to stop; and my tongue happily continues. Instead, you begin speaking again, "Butter...cup, you were good at brushing hair... and I complemented you for it, but when it comes to ass-kissing, you're better than I...I..I. ever could have imagined. Maybe all these deprivations I've imposed on you have drawn out your true talents and made you better... or maybe you're just hungry in all the right ways..."

My strong tongue continues its work as you speak.

"Stand up!" you command abruptly. I'm knocked loose from my eating and stumble drunkenly to attention. I truly have no idea what you will do now. Order me to leave the room perhaps?

You twist around and recline elegantly on your elbows facing me. Your mound is teasingly perked between your thighs. you look at my face for a long scrutinizing moment and then lie completely back and remove the chain from around your neck. the key is now in your right hand- in your fingers...

"Approach the bed," you command.

I walk that step and stand with my knees against your bedspread. your reach out and pull down my yoga pants- my panties... Next you do the thing that all my deepest fears assured me you would not. You lean forward and take your miniature prison in your two hands carefully. I can feel the heat in your hands as you work. you delicately unlock your bolt and pull apart the pieces. You carefully place the these pieces of your mechanism on the table by your bed and by the time you've turned your attention back to me, I'm- for the first time in many hours- fully erect.

*

Dressed in full drag- except for my exposed crotch- my erection makes a most-ironic self introduction. Aside from this throbbing member, I feel nothing like a man.

I'm breathing heavy. I see my target- your blush-colored rose petals- and I can barely keep my body from pouncing on you. I'm trembling.

"Hands behind your back!" Your words bring me back from my animal visions.

You spit into you hand and begin stroking an expert stroke. I almost forget to notice that this is the most intimate attention you've given to me yet- a hand job. It feels...somehow charitable, and I am desperate for it.

Your right hand is moving slowly up and down my shaft. Every time you get to the tip- that sensitive spot right below the urethra- you press slightly in with your perfectly manicured thumb. By stroke three, you've summoned the clear slippery liquid to my tip, and you spread it around my dome with your finger tips.

"You're right on the edge, Buttercup," you seem to encourage, but something in your tone gives me pause. You're smiling bigger than I'm used to seeing you smile. Its like you're stroking me not only with your hand but also with your entire body. You grind your hips seductively down into your comforter and gently side to side. I'm on the edge and tipping over.

"I did not give you permission to cum."

These dreadful words come sliding out of your smiling lips. As if in punctuation, you open your thighs for no other purpose than to give me a nice inviting view of your pink pulsation. I'm so lustful that it takes me a moment to realize that you've stopped stroking. You lift your fingers off of me one by one until all that's left is your index finger pointing to my tip. You let it rest there.

"Okay that's all... for now... that's all you get tonight, Buttercup, I'm suddenly very tired and ready for bed, thanks for the orgasms."

You're searching my face for astonishment and you find it, "I have brought you to the edge tonight on purpose- I didn't have to do it- but I did it because I want you to get used to being on the edge very very often."

I let out a pathetic, silent whimpering breath.

"Time for bed, Buttercup. You have my permission to go to your quarters early tonight."

I sadly turn and begin to walk away.