"Do you feel a little ridiculous?" Ella asked, smirking. She couldn't help herself. She was on a high. She had him. She had him right where she wanted him, and he knew it, and he loved it, almost as much as she did.
His chuckle was short lived. "I feel . . . more than ridiculous."
She raised an eyebrow. He couldn't see it; his head was bowed and he was trembling. "Explain."
It was an order, and it thrilled them both. She hadn't gotten past the guilt of controlling him, but she was enjoying pushing his buttons now. She'd never felt in her life felt anything quite like it. It was an electric current that ran between them: she sent him a charge and he caved into shaky silent submission, which sent a charge back to her. His reaction, his utter submission, was like a mellow burst of lightning from the center of her gut out. Her nipples woke up. Her insides melted, and everything wet knew right where to drain.
"I feel humiliated."
She felt her throat bob. Worry overwhelmed her. Had she taken it too far? She gave a little tug on the leash and watched his cock bob, watch him scoot forward on his knees. The leash was attached to a small ring on his chastity device. She wondered how the little metal cage could withstand his swollen cock; his flesh pressed up against the bars, straining. It was penis prison for the very naughty. Every now and then she could see the whole package throb. Every now and then a long drip would leak from the tip and she could pretend to fuss at him for it. It was yet another button she'd discovered.
"Jim," she started to say, started to apologize, started to spring forward and remove the leash and free him from the cock cage, "maybe we should--"
He shivered. "I'm so . . . totally turned on . . . Mistress."
It exploded within her, from her belly, from her heart, in her brain, pure pleasure. It was like an orgasm, but without the physical convulsions of ecstasy. She was high on him again, on them, on what she was doing to him, on what he was allowing to happen, on what they both wanted to happen.
She whispered because her throat was too dry to work; every thing liquid in her was draining into her panties. She felt the matting of the cotton gusset pressing against her wet swollen lips, barely hidden beneath her short, leather skirt. "Good boy."
He shuddered with pleasure. He parted his lips to speak, but nothing came out.
He was just like her, too aroused to think straight. They were in tune like never before.
She swallowed and tried to get a hold of herself. "Turn--turn around now."
He shuffled on his knees until the leash grew taut. She grinned and gave him a little slack.
"Arms behind you."
He complied, and the fact that he complied made her face hot. It almost seemed involuntary, as if she were in direct control of his body, bypassing his thoughts. If you could've told her six months ago that they would be here doing this, she wouldn't have believed it.
She wrapped rope around his wrists, trapping his arms behind him. They'd considered handcuffs, but Ella felt rope was more romantic. That made her giggle. It shouldn't make sense, but it did. Her friend, her mentor from the Divine Tantra site had sent her links, video instructions on the safety and "how to" of rope bondage. It was because of that website that they had come to this. They'd been on the brink of a break up; now, they couldn't get enough of each other. They'd suffered through awkward, resentful silences; now, they communicated without speaking, through longing gazes and shuddering bodies.
She tied off the knot, sank her hand into his hair and jerked his head back, resting her chin on his shoulder, smelling his sweat, inhaling his maleness. She whispered and felt his trembling start up again as if by her command. "Got'cha."
He stuttered. "Y-yes, Mistress."
She let him go, watched his head quickly snap forward again, back into position, bowed, all nice and worshipful. She sauntered around him, swinging the leash like a jump-rope. "So," she asked, her tone light and musical, "how are we feeling about it all?"
It took him a few moments to collect his thoughts. "Are we--are we having a discussion?"
"Discussion" was Ella's term for when she asked him to be honest and confess what he liked and what he didn't. His likes far outweighed his dislikes, but he had a few of the latter, like asking for the inclusion of keywords for when she texted him at work, so he could let her know when he was free to talk.
She considered it. "Yes, Jim, we're having a discussion, because I'm about do something with you that could be very demeaning, so I'd like to gauge your reaction."
He bowed his head, shuddering at what demeaning thing she or her mentors from the Divine Tantra website had cooked up. "I'm feeling like you could push me much harder. I think you're afraid you'll push me too hard or that you'll hurt me, but I also know you said the other day that you felt responsible for making sure I was safe and happy and enjoying everything, because I might be feeling too submissive to tell you or make a good decision, so I respect that."
She understood very well what he was saying; it was what he'd been saying for awhile now. Desperate, hungry, filled to the brim with lust and utter devotion, he was saying, "I want more."
She jerked his leash and watched his little cock cage bob in response. His head popped up, his eyes catching hers. She grinned and leaned down, patting him on the top of his head. "Good boy, but it's not about what you want, is it?"
Through his eyes she could feel the connection, the longing, the erotic current. She felt like she was a big bad she-wolf that wanted to devour him whole. His eyelids blinked once in slow motion. "No, Mistress."
She could remain this way forever, looking deep into his eyes, getting lost, feeling the compulsive desire to go inside him, to penetrate him, overwhelm him, consume him from the inside out so he would be hers and only hers and forever hers, her property, her "thing", her worshipful object.
She undid the knot on his wrists, unraveled the rope and pointed to a spot beside her. "Hands and knees. Here."
He scrambled forward on all fours, feeling the cool air of the apartment on his naked backside.
She jerked the leash and he let out a soft, little yelp. "Face forward."
He turned, first the wrong way, getting the leash tangled in his arms, then the right way. He knelt, breathing heavily, leaning against her, enjoying the sensation of her silk stockings tickling the hair of his arms.
She looked down and whispered softly, "Didn't I say hands and knees?"
'You never have to yell or demand,' her mentor had told her through an online chat. 'You never have to nag or remind or feel like his mother. You can whisper the softest whisper and he will jump to obey you.'
