A standalone story, but it follows Part 1, Loving Bonds. Thanks for your attention.
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"Today, lover," I whispered into his ear. "Today, it's my turn." I nibbled his earlobe with sharp, white teeth. He shifted in his sleep.
Reaching over his side, I grasped his morning wood and started rubbing a fingertip under its head. He came slowly awake.
It was just after 10. I had been up for some time, preparing.
He rolled over onto his back and smiled. My heart fluttered; I felt the smile all the way down to my toes.
Damn, but he was good-looking!
I gave him a few rapid pumps, with what I hoped was my most brilliant smile.
"Go pee," I told him. "I expect you back here in two minutes."
"Shower?"
"Later," I said. "Today is my revenge for yesterday and I own your sweet ass. Get moving."
While he was gone, I tidied up the bed a little and brought a tray in from the kitchen, placing it beside the bed on the side table. Returning, he glanced at it. I shook my finger at him and wordlessly pointed at the bed.
As soon as he lay down, I swung my leg over him, trapping his arms. I reached for the tray and moved it to beside us on the bed.
"Breakfast," I announced. "A good day begins with a good breakfast." I pulled a grape from the bunch with my teeth, then leaned towards him so that he could take it from my lips. He extended taking it into a lingering, soft kiss, then chewed slowly and swallowed.
So much love in our life! I felt so blessed.
And excited. Don't overlook excited.
I held up a fresh croissant (OK, a day old, but not bad for a small town in French Polynesia), broke off a piece, buttered it in front of him and put it to his lips. He again chewed appreciatively and swallowed.
A piece of fresh papaya followed, then a sip of black coffee, extra dark the way he liked it.
Piece by piece, sip by sip, I fed him his breakfast at the same time as I ate my own, pausing on occasion to lick a crumb or drop of juice from his chest. Both of us were starkers, nudity being our norm at the villa.
I let him sip the last of the coffee, then rose off him. "Stand up," I said.
He rose and stood, hands at his side.
No time like the present,
I thought and, without further ado, put leather cuffs on his ankles and wrists and clipped his hands behind him. Coming back around from behind him, I saw he was smiling.
The smile fell a little when I produced something new, a small leather collar fastened to a fine leash of braided leather. Bending, I snapped the collar around his scrotum. He started to speak, but I hushed him with a finger to his lips.
Taking the leash, I led him down to the bay and walked him ankle-deep through the perfectly clear water around the promontory. He followed silently on his tether. We both scanned the ocean from time to time. Whales sometimes come by on the ocean side and whales are good luck.
While the villagers rarely fished this area, the possibility of a boat passing by was still very real. Just the thought of it had me smiling. I wouldn't have dodged, and leashed the way he was, he would've had no say in the matter. The sun was warm on our skins and the breezes tender on places most people never get to feel a breeze.
Eventually, I led him back to the two palm trees where he had so brilliantly, patiently, lovingly tormented me the day before. I unclipped his hands and passed the paracord already tied to the tree trunks through the cleats on the back of his cuffs. I secured him in a classic 'X' position, arms stretched out high. I nudged his feet apart, far enough that his leg muscles were just straining, and snugged up the two bottom lines to keep them spread. I took the end of the leash and held it in front of his mouth. He grasped it in his teeth and I stroked his cheek with my hand.
The sun was well up, but he was still in the shade, facing the sun-splashed surf 40 paces away.
I reached down, removed the leash and gently stretched his scrotum downwards, his now semiflacid cock resting on the back of my wrist. We both smiled. It was to be a fun day. He'd bought the platinum ticket, complete with back-stage pass, and I was to be band, conductor and tour guide all in one.
Stepping back, I admired his spread-eagled form. While not a gym-rat, he kept himself in nice shape and I admired his crisp-cut muscles, especially his abs and buttocks. With curly brown hair and a full beard, he looked like a captured demigod from some ancient Greek myth.
I went back to the villa and up the three steps to inside. I returned with a large bowl, a pitcher of hot water and some toiletries, including some ivory-coloured strips which I laid out in a patch of warm morning sun. He eyed the last curiously and I smiled to myself. Men think they know everything.
After removing the leash and lathering up the washcloth, I proceeded to slowly wash and rinse his entire body, head to foot. Done properly, bathing your partner can be as erotic as sex. and his manhood stiffened to salute the passing clouds.
I spread shaving cream across his cheeks and throat with my fingers, making sensuous swirls with my fingertips, then slowly shaved my man around his beard, wiping off the leftover lather with the washcloth when I had finished. I tossed the soapy water into a nearby bush and refilled the bowl from the pitcher. Returning, I slowly ran my fingers over his smooth cheeks, kissed him lightly and stood back.
He was not a hairy man; even his chest was almost smooth - not that that detracted in any way from his masculinity. Furry is for bears, in my opinion. In any case, his lack of body hair was about to make my task much easier.
I sat down on a nearby bench, facing him, legs crossed. He watched my eyes roam over his body.
I got up, strolled over, and ran a fingertip along the underside of his old man.
"Not bad," I remarked. "Not bad at all."
He smiled.
"But," I pouted, "not quite perfect."
His eyebrows rose in question.
I walked slowly around him. Yesterday, he'd blindfolded me to heighten the sensations. Today, no blindfold. Like most men, he was a visual creature and I knew that being able to see would boost his excitement.
Walking around him, I trailed my fingertips over his muscles. From behind, I reached between his outspread thighs and fondled his heavy sex. I weighed his pendulous ball-sack, bouncing lightly it in my hand. I could sense his cock twitch in response and wondered for the thousandth time how men do that. I walked around to his front and, guiding my breasts with my hands, slowly rubbed my nipples against his; I felt him breathe deeply with excitement. His cock brushed between my legs.
"There is one thing we could try," I said. I picked up the can of shaving cream again.
"Wait!" he said. "I like the beard."
