"Tony, may I please suck your cock?"
Anthony put his newspaper down, glancing up in bemusement. Sure enough, before him stood Sophie, unsteady and shaking in her unforgiving ballet boots. A faint sheen of perspiration beaded on her forehead, a most pleasing display of the toll the exertion was taking on her. Her green eyes were wide and pleading, and she had even put on the reddest, sluttiest coat of lipstick she owned.
Little Tony immediately sprung to attention, screaming, "Yes!!" for all it was worth... but Anthony had other plans. He leaned back in his chair, stroking his chin as he looked her over from head to toe. "I don't know, Sophie. Didn't you just do that an hour ago?"
It was a stroke of pure genius, if he could say so himself. The first day of "ballet boot week" had been somewhat underwhelming. Sophie had remained stubbornly seated as much as she could, insisting that her punishment had been to *wear* the boots, not to stand or walk in them. And so the next day Anthony, inspired by an article he had once read on mild predicament bondage, had bought her a corset and decreed that it be worn with the boots.
It was a gorgeous piece of handmade leather, red with black accents, heavily steel-boned throughout. The last point was key - Anthony had taken his time lacing her in, giving her body time to adjust each time before tightening them further. Half an hour later, they both admired the most dramatic silhouette they had ever achieved - her waist curved sharply inward, pulled in tightly by the heavy steel bones. Sophie loved it; that is, until she realized that it was most uncomfortable to sit down in such tightly-laced attire.
And thus she was faced with the predicament: Stand in the torturous heels, or sit and feel the corset grip her torso more tightly, squeezing her breasts up and out so much that she thought they might burst. Neither position was bearable for too long, and so she was forced to alternate between the two, much to her chagrin. Naturally, lying down was not allowed before bedtime.
Even then, Anthony came back from his evening jog the following day to find her kneeling on the couch, having found a happy medium between the two positions. And so the third rule was made: Kneeling was only allowed during blowjobs.
"Please, Tony! My feet are killing me," Sophie begged, shifting from foot to foot. It was Saturday afternoon, and Anthony had laced her into the corset as soon as she was out of her morning shower, a good inch tighter than the previous day. It had been a long, long day for her, he mused.
He ran his hands down the curve of her waist, soft flesh cinched by hard steel, reveling in the wonderful, intoxicating cruelty of having her suffer so for his viewing pleasure. He loved how it reinforced the power imbalance between them - and judging from the moist thighs before him, she seemed to love it just as much.
"You'll have to offer me better than that," he teased her. "It's a big ask, you know."
"Anything."
"Really?"
Her eyes met his, and he felt precum dribbling against the inside of his boxer shorts.
"Stay here," he directed her, then rose and headed for the bedroom.
He returned shortly, carrying a knapsack and a modest slip-on dress. She blinked at the dress questioningly. "Uh...?"
He motioned towards her with the dress. "Put it on, dear. We're going for a short walk."
She narrowed her eyes suspiciously, but did as she was told. The "walk" consisted of him leading her to the shed in her garden - only a hundred metres from the kitchen door, but a good 10 minutes for a woman teetering in ballet boots.
"I had no idea you liked getting blowjobs in garden sheds, Tony."
Anthony chuckled. "What makes you think I'll be getting a blowjob in the shed?"
Her eyes widened, but he simply kissed her on the forehead, before pulling the dress up over her head. Handcuffs came out of his knapsack, which he noted she put her hands behind her back for most cooperatively. Laughing, he corrected her. "I appreciate the gesture, Sophie, but I'd like them in front of you." So in front of her they went on, before her wrists were pulled over her head and behind her neck, attached to the D-ring behind her collar.
Sophie glowered at him in apprehension. The position forced her hands behind her head, pushing her breasts up and out.
"Tony..." she murmured, shifting uncomfortably from one foot to another. "I'm not sure I like where this is going..."
The bastard only grinned in return, pinching her swollen nipples with one hand as he stroked her fiery curls with the other. "But I do. And that's what matters, mm?" She whimpered in protest, and he could see a slow trickle making its way down her upper thigh, where the tops of her stockings met bare flesh. Excellent.
The nipple clamps went on next, attached to little silver bells that seemed impossibly loud in the silence of the shed. A ring gag followed, forcing her glossy red lips two inches apart. He had her stand there, shifting her weight uncomfortably, as he pulled out two rather unusual contraptions - her regular dildo with a loop on the end, and a small, square piece of equipment that looked somewhat like an alarm.
"This convenient little contraption is triggered by impact. Watch," he told her, as he dropped the alarm. A continuous din rang through the shed, lights flashing as it beeped loudly.
Sophie's eyes darted around wildly - had anyone heard? She then realized that the shed was soundproof - nobody would hear anything that happened inside.
Anthony kindly reset the alarm. "But when you're outside..." he confirmed her fears blithely, as he then attached the contraption to the end of the dildo.
"HNNGHHHH!!" she protested, jade eyes widening.
"Legs spread," he instructed her sternly, ignoring the whimpers of protest. In the dildo went, slipping through her dripping folds easily. "Oh, my dear Sophie. What will we ever do with you?" he teased her.
"So, here's the deal," he carried on, sounding as casual as if he was explaining how to turn the TV on. His hands, slick with her juices, cupped her face, smearing her carefully-applied makeup all over. Her cheeks turned a rosy shade all on their own - she could smell her own scent, clear and musky, could only imagine what a sight her face must be. The humiliation was almost unbearable.
Only 'almost', though. She would not safeword. Deep down inside her, some part of her craved this, lapped it all up with astonishing greed.
Anthony stepped back, nodding in satisfaction at her mussed-up appearance. "I will be going back to the house now, Sophie. It's about an hour before the sun begins to set, probably two hours before complete darkness. You can decide when you want to be giving me the blowjob that you owe me."
He kissed the corner of her spread lips. "Remember, my little slut. No kneeling if you don't have my cock in your mouth."
Amidst her garbled wails, he opened the door and walked out of the shed, leaving the door open.
***
