The end of the adventures of Emily and Mike (names changed). Can be read in series or standalone, background in Part 1.
Tess O'Meter Green.
-X
Following our escapades at BDSM Manor, Mike and I entered the beautiful fall season not realizing that after nearly four years of on and off fun and frolics (mostly on!) we were also nearing the end of our friends with benefits adventures.
As the leaves turned red and gold, we went hiking for a few days on Vancouver Island, and I took the opportunity to show Mike what proper zip-wiring is all about.
Most of which he spent adding to my grey hairs by hanging upside down in the harness. I mean, the man has no hips! How is that even possible?
Not too long after we returned to our favourite kinky accommodation and I lost the toss on whose turn it was to submit first. (Not that kind of toss you filthy minded people.)
Mike had decided to try some mild humiliation (just between the two of us) and had spotted some equipment the last time we were here.
So I found myself, blushing a deep crimson color, on a gynecological examination bench, with my legs in medical stirrups.
I was also strapped in across the torso, just below my breasts, and my wrists were tied. Not enough to panic me. I could reach my hair, my breasts, flail around quite a lot.
But I didn't have enough freedom to grab Mike's head and hold him against me.
Had I been able to reach that far, I would have used his ability to breathe in some short-term hostage negotiations.
As in, let me cum or learn how to breathe through your ears, you bastard.
He had been holding me on the edge for what seemed like hours.
Not only was this acutely embarrassing, legs akimbo, thighs a-quivering, and incredibly vulnerable. The evil sod would not allow me relief.
"You fucking bastard!" I yelled for the hundredth time, "let me cum."
Mike ran his tongue obscenely through my folds, deliberately making a slurping sound as he did so, and then rubbed his stubbly beard over my clit, before raising his head and grinning at me.
"Honestly, no," he said, "I'm enjoying this way too much."
"Please!"
"I think you forgot something," he grumbled.
I was a sweaty, red faced, panting mess, and not in the mood for niceties.
"Piss off."
Mike raised his eyebrows, then bent down and french kissed my pussy.
"Ahhhh, no, no. Pleeaaassseeee," I sobbed.
"Please what?"
I gave in, "Please Master, please my lovely, lovely Master, let me cum."
Mike licked me again and then walked around and leaned over me, "I think you have to apologize first for being so rude."
I pouted, "Sorry, Master. Please may I cum," I was crying at this point. My pussy was throbbing so hard, it HURT.
"Kiss me," Mike demanded.
"Urghh, no," I moaned.
Mike laughed.
I squeezed some extra tears out in the hope he would relent.
"Won't work," he said, "You've forgotten to call me Master at least six times this evening, and you've been very rude."
He leaned closer, "Kiss me, and you can cum."
Wrinkling my nose, I reached up and pulled his face down to mine. Mike's tongue quickly dived deep as he explored my mouth in the sloppiest kiss on record.
Which was pretty gross in itself; even worse as I could taste myself.
He laughed at my hopeful look when he stood back up and walking back between my legs, he quickly covered himself and then sheathed himself deep inside me.
"Ahhhh," I was shaking the entire bench as Mike started to thrust, so, so ready to cum.
It didn't take long for either of us. Mike braced on the bench, his hands resting either side of my waist, both of us breathing hard.
"Thank you, Master," I smiled, relaxing back against the bench.
With an evil smirk Mike pushed himself upright, disposed of the condom, and then started the whole thing again.
Unsurprisingly we slept late the following morning, and went for walk along the coast, before returning for my evening in charge.
Mike was surprised when we walked into our playroom for the night.
Sparkling clean, it was the same room as the night before, and set up exactly the same way.
"What, you wanna go again?" he asked me, looking confused.
I gave him the look, "Get onto that bench, Boy Toy!"
Mike smiled ruefully, and with good grace stripped down and clambered onto the bench. Allowing me to secure him exactly as I had been secured the night before.
This meant I had fantastic access to his little boy hole, and his balls hung down beautifully vulnerable, his cock was easy reach as well.
As I secured his ankles and knees, I saw it dawn on him just how exposed this bench was.
"Whoa," he said softly.
"Fun, yea?" I teased him, as I cuffed his wrists.
He laughed a little shakily.
In fact he had a little more movement with his arms. I had asked the owner to set it up so Mike could almost, but not quite reach his cock.
Ohhh, how frustrating.
I worked Mike hard that night.
Edging him with fingers, mouth, and hands.
Using our entire collection of butt plugs (clean as they were, we didn't feel comfortable using the ones provided here!) to move him up through the sizes.
His balls being steadily compressed and stretched by our umbrella device.
Plus hours and hours of worshipping his throbbing, straining, gorgeous cock.
Ever seen a grown man cry?
Sadly I didn't film it, so I can't show you, but I can guarantee, you won't find anything that hot online.
As you know, Mike is a lot younger than me and very fit, so I didn't feel any guilt at all in making him suffer for three hours, before I finally slipped into my strap-on and pushed inside him, while still fisting his cock.
We were both pretty shocked when one of the wrist cuffs broke. In fact, I was relieved he didn't turn green and tear up the entire building.
I was so impressed (He's pretty slender, you wouldn't imagine he was that strong), that I let him stroke himself to his first (finally!) orgasm, now that he had a hand free to reach.
Then I got a new cuff, retied him and started again.
Revenge is sweet.
-X
Winter came with a vengeance and two of our planned meetings were cancelled due to unusually difficult weather.
Then another due to illness.
Flu. Sucks.
Then another due to work.
We had gone through periods of not meeting before. It's not like we live close, and Mike had dated a couple of times as well.
However, somehow four months has passed; Mike was not his normal filthy self, and I hadn't been able to draw him into any naughty game planning.
As I drove back into his area for a series of meetings and to see him, I was concerned.
He needed to talk to me.
About what?
