My mistress is in a dreadful mood today. But not with me. Never with me. No matter how bad things get in her life, I never see her as anything but the loving mistress I have come to adore.
I give her the power and control that she doesn't normally have. The fact that she has never abused the permission I gave her at the beginning of our relationship to use me as she saw fit has never been lost on me.
She smiles when she answers her door. My mistress is always so pleased to see me. It warms my heart to know that something as simple as my presence gives her pleasure.
My cock twitches in anticipation when she leads me to her bedroom without saying a word to me. I know to remove my clothes without being told to when I see the restraints hanging from the top of the door.
My mistress doesn't derive pleasure from humiliation or from causing me pain. I don't think she's ever used more than a simple riding crop to spank me. No. She likes to control and guide my actions as I strive to please her.
It is my eagerness and genuine desire for her that makes her happy. There are no distractions from the outside world as she places a blindfold over my eyes. It is only the two of us in this place and time.
Her silence tells me that she is in a stormy mood. I don't ask her what's wrong. It isn't my place to pry. She has always made it clear that her real life is separate from what she shares with me.
I struggled with that distance in the beginning, but in the end it was a small price to pay if I could remain hers. I'm simply there to be what she needs. To give her the kind of pleasure that only my submission can provide.
I feel the tips of her nails as she begins to slowly drag them along my skin...up from the insides of my ankles, lingering on my inner thighs before she grazes them against my balls. Her touch is almost light enough to tickle me.
Almost
. Instead, it makes me hyper sensitive to the effects of her intimate caress.
She knows what she's doing to me. I have often encouraged her to use me more harshly if that was what she needed. But she never hurts me. Never marks me. And I have learned over time that being a gentle mistress is in her kind and generous nature.
I struggle not to cry out when I feel her warm breath on my cock. Her mouth is where I want it the most. This is where she will torture me. Not with pain. But with the effort to obey her wishes. I know what she will say before the words pass her lips.
"Don't cum." She tells me.
They're the first words she has spoken since she let me in the house. "Yes, mistress." I answer.
But I know how difficult it will be to obey her. She knows that I will hold off my orgasm as long as I can. For her. Only for her. She knows I will suffer and struggle as she uses her hands and mouth to give me the most unforgettable pleasure.
Such sweet torture. Worse than any physical pain I could endure. Worse than being made to do humiliating tasks. So, I brace myself as best I can for the sexual onslaught that I know is about to begin.
I plant my heels into the carpet and press my back against the door in the hopes that I'll last longer than five minutes. I'm grateful in that moment that I can't see her.
Her perfect lips as they open. The tongue that never fails to make my cock as hard as steel...the teeth that she'll use to make the tender skin there beg for release. And her eyes as she looks up at me, daring me to fail.
The first flick of her tongue makes me jump. I can't help it. I can almost hear her grin. But my body quickly settles down as she begins. My cock is painfully hard, just the way she likes it.
She doubted the sincerity of my attraction to her when we first met. My heart felt words didn't convince her. Neither did my unwavering submission in the beginning of our journey. Only my raging hard on allowed her to believe that I wanted her more than my next breath.