I wait.
In the candlelit, perfumed dimness of your bedroom, I wait. My cock is throbbing, aching, practically screaming to be allowed to cum. My balls - well, my balls feel like they've swollen to three times their normal size and are pulsing with a deep-seated ache, a dull pounding that feels as if something is inside me, hammering to get out. I want more than anything in the world to be able to touch my cock, jack it hard and fast until the hot cum explodes...but I can't.
You, being the dominant bitch that you are, have left me restrained. I am fully naked, standing upright and spread eagled against a wooden X-cross, my wrists and ankles bound tight with soft leather straps to the four ends of the cross. Three more, larger straps keep my thighs, waist and chest pinned. Even my head is bound tight - yet another strap is cinched across my forehead, and I can only look straight ahead.
I have been this way for some time, I don't know how long, ever since you gave my aching dick a final, light caress after a long teasing session, kissed me gently on the cheek, and said you had to go out for awhile. You wouldn't say for how long. I tried to protest, sweat standing out on my brow, but I couldn't: in the final humiliation, you had fixed a dildo gag firmly into my mouth and strapped it tight around the back of my head. The shorter side of the gag, the part in my mouth, was still long and thick enough to make it impossible to utter more than a few muffled grunts. The longer side was a thick, ridged, veiny black hard rubber cock with a monstrous, bulbous head, jutting a good ten inches out from my face. During the tease session you had repeatedly driven me mad by sucking on the dildo, softly and sensually, keeping your gaze locked on mine the entire time. It makes me almost weep with frustration even now, just to think about it.
Here I am now, bound tight, dildo gag strapped immovably in place, naked, covered in a light sheen of sweat that make the slight movements of air in the room sheer torture on my hot, blood-engorged cock. There is complete silence in the house. Every time I think I hear a noise my heart leaps - maybe you've finally returned, and maybe you're in a mood to finally give my cock and balls the release they so desperately need. But each time I'm disappointed; it's a neighbor's car, somebody walking by outside, never you. My wait stretches into eternity, and I know nothing but silence and the deep, almost inhuman ache in my groin.
The story of how I ended up here is a deceptively simple one. Boy meets girl, boy and girl discover mutual interest in BDSM, boy lets girl dominate him. Run-of-the-mill romance.
Hardly.
---
You worked as a dancer at one of the nicer gentlemen's clubs in town, one that I began to frequent when my job required me to relocate across town. Being single and unattached, it was easy enough to pack up my small apartment and find another one, and shortly after settling in I went out on a Friday night to check out the nightlife in my new neighborhood. Your club had a reputation among locals as having the hottest dancers and the best brew selection; both turned out to be true.
My first time there, I went with a couple of other guys from my new apartment complex. We ordered microbrews and sat near the stage, where an eye-poppingly gorgeous blonde with enormous tits was writhing around a gleaming pole like a sexy snake. We sipped our beers and watched appreciatively as she wrapped long, muscular legs around the pole and leaned back, showing an impossible flexibility, bending her head almost to the floor behind her, her styled blonde hair falling around her and her boobs jutting straight up at the ceiling. All of us showed her some love in the form of twenties we slipped into her tiny g-string. In return we each got a nice little ass wiggle. She was drop-dead gorgeous, all right, and I don't know about my companions, but I had a pretty good hard-on by the time her show was over and she left the stage.
Then you came on, and I forgot all about the blonde.
The DJ announced you simply as "Miss Diamond," and you strutted onstage to the beat of Katy Perry's "Roar." My first impression of you was one of total self-assurance - you projected confidence like a lioness. You owned the place; not just the stage, but the entire room, instantly and effortlessly becoming the focal point of every eye.
Mocha skin; long straight jet-black hair; a slender and athletic build; big tits - these were some of my first impressions. But what stood out most of all was your face - your exotic, almond-shaped face with deep dark eyes that were slightly uptilted, suggesting some oriental ancestry. Your mouth was a bow curved into a small and wicked-looking smile. You wore a form-fitting leather bustier, fishnet stockings, and what looked like eight-inch stiletto platform heels. Your breasts filled out the bustier nicely, bulging slightly and providing the room with a nice glimpse of ample cleavage.
As you slowly circled the stage you seemed to meet the eye of everybody in the room in turn, fixing each person with your gaze for a moment, then moving on. Your walk was balanced and confident, which, along with the heels, gave the impression of someone very tall (I would find out later that you were only about five-six, but by then your dominant, type-A personality had made that completely irrelevant). You reached the side of the stage where I sat, and your eyes found mine for the first time. In the space of a few short seconds, you seemed to see into me in a way that I found unsettling and exciting at the same time. When your eyes released mine, I realized my cock was at full staff and I could feel precum oozing out into my boxers. Your smile seemed to widen just slightly as you looked away from me, as if you knew exactly what effect you'd had.
I have no idea how long your show lasted, but it wasn't nearly long enough. My eyes never left the stage, and when I think back on it, the memory is wrapped in a gauzy fog of entrancement. Even then, before we had even met, I was utterly under your spell - I think I was lost with that first eye contact. I remember your lithe body swaying under the pulsing lights, hypnotic movements almost like a ritual, removal of clothing so smoothly that it hardly seemed to happen at all. You took forever to reveal your breasts to your enraptured audience, teasing with little flashes of boob and nipple here and there, thrown into your erotic dance almost like afterthoughts, but without a doubt carefully planned for maximum effect - as I learned all too well later, you are a masterful cockteaser. When you finally did strip off the bustier completely and expose your tits, my jaw dropped. They were large, probably double-D, and deliciously firm, set high and tipped with hard little nipples that were a very dark chocolate brown, and they made my mouth water.
Afterwards, I asked the bartender about your show schedule, not wanting to miss the next one.
"Ask her yourself, buddy," he said, and slipped a folded piece of paper across the bar to me.
On the paper, in elegant, flowing script, was a single curt command: Come to my dressing room.
---
I didn't even have to think about it. I made my way backstage, heart pounding, mouth dry, and after a few wrong turns found myself outside a closed door with a capital D on it in old English script. I knocked hesitantly.
You opened the door, and my knees immediately felt weak. You were even more exotically beautiful up close than you had been on stage. Your almond face had only the lightest makeup, just subtle accents here and there, especially around your eyes, accentuating their small upward oriental tilt. You were wearing a black silk robe, tied at the waist, and your hair was done up in a careless ponytail draped across one shoulder. The robe barely covered your nipples and left most of your delectably big boobs exposed. It was short, too, ending right below your ass and showing off your sexy legs in their entirety.
"Come in, baby," you whispered softly, locking eyes with me. When I hesitated out of sheer nervousness, your dark eyes narrowed. "In. Now."
The iron authority behind that soft command sent a tingle through my groin and made me obey instantly. I've never thought of myself as particularly submissive, but there was no resisting that voice or those eyes; my legs moved me forward into the small room before I was even aware of it.
