Desperation

I stepped out of my car into the cool night air and gently shut it behind me. A thrill of excitement ran down my spine, and I shivered slightly. Was it the cold, or was it anticipation of the night ahead? I bit my lip nervously and opened the door. I was always excited, arriving to be used like the fuckslave I am. A week's denial made things worse – I was faced with the slave's dilemma: desperately hoping to cum, yet secretly yearning for Mistress to laugh at my needs, and send me home still wanting.

Inside, I stood in Mistress' entryway and stripped methodically, setting my clothes aside in a neat pile. I had put my collar on before leaving home. As my shirt came off, a leather band was revealed around my left bicep. My pants, removed, revealed a pretty blue lacy thong. Those three items were all the outfit I needed. Thus attired, I knelt on a pillow at the foot of her staircase and awaited her pleasure.

Tonight, Mistress was apparently as keen as I was. I had only been kneeling a minute or so when I heard the slow, sensual clack-clacking of her high heels on the wooden floor above. She wasn't hurrying, knowing that the sound would be driving me crazy, sending my anticipation into overdrive.

She came into view, wearing a hot, hot outfit I had bought her for her birthday. The bustier had a snakeskin look, and showed off her fantastic tits to best advantage. The bottom fastened onto black fishnet stockings, over matching panties. On her feet, my favourite strappy black high heels, and dark, plum coloured toenails. She looked good enough to eat – and I hoped I would shortly be eating her.

Slowly, she descended the staircase until her feet were on the step in front of me. "Good evening, slaveboy," she breathed softly. I licked my lips. "Good evening, Mistress. May I worship you, please?"

Mistress smiled. I wasn't looking at her face, but I could tell she was smiling. "You may." I leaned downwards, keeping my hands behind my back, and softly kissed the tops of her toes, through her stockings. I kissed each toe once, then tried to suck her big toe into my mouth, as best her shoe would let me. "Mmmm," she purred softly. "Nothing quite beats the sight of a pussy licking slaveboy on his knees."

When she had had enough, Mistress leaned down and clipped a leash to my collar. According to one of her newest rules, if I had a leash attached like this, I was not permitted to stand. Without a word she turned, giving me a fantastic view of her amazing ass, and walked up the stairs. I scrambled after her on my knees, ignoring for the moment the fact that they hurt on the hard wooden surface of the staircase and floor. If I didn't keep up, Mistress would be able to hurt me far worse. A short walk later we arrived in her living room – the rug underfoot was welcome! – and she unclipped the leash. I was required to stand, with my hands on my head.

In that position, my arousal and excitement were obvious – my cock was sticking straight out through the panties, which had acquired a large wet spot. Hard-ons without permission were not forbidden, exactly, but Mistress liked to humiliate me anyway. Walking towards me, she picked up a crop and used the end of it to push my cock to and fro, still inside the panties. "What is this, slaveboy?" she asked.

"It's your cock, Mistress," I responded softly.

"My cock?"

"Yes Mistress. It is your cock. You own it. I just carry it for you." This was an old formula, one we had repeated many times. But it made my cheeks burn to acknowledge that she owned my cock ... and she loved hearing me admit it.

"And why is it hard, slaveboy? Do you think it will be allowed to cum tonight?"

I smiled ruefully. "It is hard because you are beautiful and exciting, Mistress. And it hopes to cum tonight ... if that is what you choose."

She giggled softly. "Pathetic, aren't you, slaveboy? You haven't cum for a week, and yet if I send you home tonight without one, you won't even wank off in the shower. A true man would have just thrown me down and fucked me by now. But you're not really a man, are you, slaveboy?"

The red of my face just got worse. "No, Mistress."

"What are you?"

"I am your slavewhore, Mistress."

She was still laughing at me. "Correct, slavewhore. Now lay down on your back for me. You might not be much of a man, but your tongue sure does the job." I lay down on my back, legs together. Mistress leaned down to pull my panties down to my knees, then stood over me, her feet either side of my head. From that position I had the most amazing view as she slipped her thumbs under the waistband of her panties and slipped them down her legs. The panties came to a rest on my face, the scent of her pussy overpowering, intoxicating. She left the panties on my face as she stepped out of them, first one leg, then the other. Finally she used the tip of her toe to flick the panties off my face, and I got a clear view upwards to her perfect shaved pussy. It glistened in the soft light. Yum.

Mistress turned around. Her feet were still either side of my head, but she was now facing my feet, and my cock. In that position she knelt, poising her asshole just above my nose. "What do you want, pussyboy?"

"I want to eat you, Mistress! I want to eat your pussy and lick your ass!" With a low, throaty laugh she settled back onto my face, her asshole right over my tongue, her cheeks cutting off my air. "Grab my legs and hold them," she commanded. Damn! No quick strokes on my cock while I ate her. Darting my tongue out, I began worshipping her asshole, driving my tongue in deep, loving the taste, loving the sheer nastiness of having my tongue buried in her ass.

When she had had enough, Mistress leaned forward, laying atop me, and worked her hips backwards until her pussy was lined up just so on my face. In this position, my tongue was licking her clit, and my nose was pressing up into her pussy. The scent was overwhelming, and I loved every bit of it.

Mistress is not as tall as I am. No, wait. Mistress is the perfect size – but I am too tall. Consequently, when her pussy was in the perfect position on my face, my cock was just – and only just – out of reach of her mouth. No sixty-nining for this slave. Every now and then, however, Mistress would raise herself up on her elbows and knees and lean forwards, pulling her pussy away from me, and putting my cock within range. The first time, she paused in that position and licked the head of my cock all over for a few moments, light feathery licks which she knew would drive me wild. The second time, she took my cock deep into her mouth and sucked hard. The third, she barely breathed on my cock. I never knew when my cock was going to receive attention, or what the attention was going to be. And in between, of course, my all five of my senses were completely occupied by Mistress' pussy. The whole scene was one incredible tease ... I could feel my cock bobbing uselessly as I ate Mistress, desperately hoping for contact with someone or something.

After a while, the teasing on my cock became less frequent, and Mistress began grinding her pussy onto my face with more abandon. Her soft, near-continuous moaning told me she was enjoying herself, and getting closer and closer to the moment of orgasm. Her hips began to buck ... she was fucking my face now, not just riding it. I ignored the soreness in my jaws and attacked her with my tongue. Closer. So close. Right on the edge. Now!

Mistress stiffened, her legs almost crushing my head, and let out a low moan which rose in pitch almost to a squeal. "Fuck yes," she moaned. "Fuck, fuck, fuck yes!"

She rode the orgasm then slumped down on my body, her sopping pussy still over my face as she recovered. I gave soft, long licks, staying away from her over-sensitive clit, just enjoying the knowledge that I had been able to give my owner such pleasure. It is one of the best feelings a slave can get. Eventually Mistress gave my cock one last kiss then began crawling off me, moving her body down mine ... my cock twitched as it brushed her chin. As she moved, I slid between her breasts, along her stomach, touching the wetness of her pussy for one single moment, then she was gone. Much more of this and I was going to go insane.

Still breathing heavily, Mistress sat on the couch, her body naked, her legs splayed. She unclipped the straps on her shoes and dangled one seductively from her toes, letting the other fall to the ground. "Sit up, and spread your legs wide," she commanded. I did so, and licked my lips at the sight before me ... my Mistress, still in her lingerie, with that slightly disheveled just-cum look about her. She was so fucking hot. Her fingers played near her pussy, stroking the skin of her inner thighs. "Now, slaveboy," she said softly, "you know what I want to see. Masturbate for me."

This was a favourite game for Mistress. She loved to watch me masturbating, and she loved even more knowing that she could prolong the game for as long as she wanted ... that I would stroke and play but not cum except on her command. I was not allowed to close my eyes, and had to keep my gaze on her while I stroked myself. My masturbation was for her benefit, not mine, and it had to be bound up in adoration of her. Fortunately, adoring her was easy.

I held the base of my cock with my left hand, and gripped my shaft with the fingertips of the right, slowly stroking up and down, enjoying the heightened arousal, but keeping it well and truly under control. I varied the speed, now faster, now slower, my glazed gaze wandering over the form of my Mistress. I spaced out somewhere along the line there, floating in an erotic haze just short of orgasm. Fuck I wanted to cum. Fuck I wanted to be denied. Fuck I was having fun.

Mistress leaned forward slightly, using her toes to push her shoe towards me. "Do you want to cum, slaveboy?"

What a ridiculous question. "Yes, Mistress!"

"How much?"

"So much Ma'am! Please! Please?"

Apparently my whimpering was amusing to her. "You may cum, slaveboy," she said. "I want you to cum into my shoe. Coat the insole with your cum."

Yes! I grabbed the shoe and set it in front of my cock, then began stroking again. Slightly more contact. Slightly more pace. The strokes weren't that different, but my slavemind knew I had permission to cum now. The cum was boiling in my balls as I kept my pace even, feeling it rise and enjoy my imminent orgasm.

"Hurry up, sissy, before I change my mind!"

That was enough. She knew it would be. With a long, low groan I stroked myself over the top and cum spurted from my long-denied cock. I kept stroking as the second wave of orgasm hit me. Every part of me from my toes to my cock to my temples was throbbing ... and a week's worth of cum coated the inside of Mistress' shoe, running down the curve and pooling right where the ball of her foot would rest.

Mistress was smiling broadly. I knew she'd enjoyed the show. "Now, slave, you know what you need to do. Quickly, before my shoe gets all sticky."

I lifted her shoe to my lips and tipped back my head. I still didn't like the taste of my cum, but the nastiness of doing this at her command overcame my revulsion. The pooled cum flowed over my lips and I swallowed it down, then began licking at the sole of her shoe to clear up the remnants. It would still be sticky, of course, but I did my best. Mistress laughed, telling me how pathetic I was to be licking my own cum from her shoe. She was right, but at that point I was in too much post-orgasmic bliss even to feel humiliated. When I was done, she had me replace her shoes on her feet ... so hot, knowing her perfect foot was resting where my tongue and my cum had just been ... and she stood, ruffling my hair like I was no more than a pet. "Good boy," she said. "Stay here and wait for me. The night is still young."