Being the Bitch

Author's Note: This short story contains some BDSM elements, including femdom and a strap-on. All characters are well beyond the age of 18, and none were harmed in the writing of this piece. The title is admittedly dumb, yes. ©WednesdaysCoffin 2019. This story cannot be transferred to any other site besides Literotica.com without prior authorization in writing from the author.

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He had no one but himself to blame for his current predicament; after all, he had allowed his sexy mistress to bind him into this position. His upper body was bent over the end of the Victorian fainting couch that he hadn't wanted to buy for their playroom, but now he understood why she had to have it. His wrists were shackled into the leather cuffs that closed with heavy padlocks, chains leading down to the floor where they were each fastened into a large O-ring. There would be no getting his hands free today, that was for sure.

As if this wasn't enough, she had strapped the red ball-gag into place so that he couldn't utter a single word. Once this was done and he was effectively silenced, he had glanced over his shoulder to watch her sifting through their extravagant toy box. His brown eyes widened as he watched her extract a set of clover clamps and strut back toward the couch with them swinging from the tip of her middle finger.

He shook his head slowly to suggest that he didn't want her to use said clamps, and her expression grew stern. "I allow you to use these very same clamps to torture my very sensitive nipples, slave. Are you saying that I cannot return the favor?"

Drool had long since begun to slither out from around the black gag, and he managed to choke out a defeated, "Okay."

"Remember your safe words," she offered sweetly. "If they begin to hurt too much and you want them removed, say red. I will stop the scene and check in to find out what it is that needs adjusting, and you can tell me to remove the clamps. Okay, my beautiful slave?"

He nodded slowly, more drool slipping down onto the velvety redness of the sofa. As he was focusing on the embarrassment of being chained into this position, his mistress laid down beneath him and slid up between his legs. Just as he was wondering why he had allowed their kinky fuckery to escalate to this level, she wrapped her lips around the head of his flaccid cock and sucked him in before releasing his flesh with a loud pop. His eyes nearly rolled back into his head at the feel of her lips wrapped around the thick ridge, and he felt his length beginning to twitch.

"I know that you're not truly a switch," she stated simply from beneath him. "I realize that this scene is way outside of your comfort zone, but I greatly appreciate that you're willing to experience new things with me." She licked up his stiffening member slowly and grinned. "I expect that you will have to use your safe words today, but I still very much appreciate that you are allowing this scene to happen. I hope you will discover something new to enjoy, and that you will be a very well-behaved slave."

He did his best to glance down at her through the small space between the couch and his chest, the tiny slit where he could see her beautiful brown eyes glowing with mirth as she licked and sucked at his aching length. He hated that when he lowered his gaze, drool rained down from his lips and he was afraid that he was going to coat himself in saliva. But that, somehow, was the least of his concerns when she reached up and placed each of the clamps onto his nipples.

Men didn't have particularly sensitive nipples by nature, sure, but holy shit this hurt. He was no wuss and he prided himself on his pain tolerance, but the pressure created on his body was immense enough that he glanced down quickly and realized, that sly little slut, his mistress had added tiny weights to the chain that attached the two clamps. This added force caused his normally small nipples to be tugged downward, elongating them and turning them a brighter pink. He gasped at the sensitivity that this all caused, but tried to focus away from the initial shock. The sensation was awkward but, thus far, tolerable.

Beneath him, his mistress had focused back onto her oral gymnastics and was alternating between deep-throating his length and stroking it in her petite hands. The pleasure was immense, somehow heightened by the pain he felt elsewhere, and he knew that he was throbbing already and she had barely begun her onslaught. As if she could read his mind, she slowly worked her way out from between his legs and kneeled behind him on the couch.

"I have something else for you," she cooed directly into his ear and then smacked his ample ass loudly. She fished her little hand into the cushions and came out with a bottle of something that he assumed must be lube. In her other hand, she was clutching a very strange looking contraption. At the look of curiosity in his large brown eyes, she smirked. "This is a prostate massager," she gripped the bizarre black plug. "And it's going in your butt."

His eyes widened then in a mixture of shock and apprehension. He shook his head slowly, but his mistress snaked her hand forward and gripped his erection firmly. "Don't panic, slave," she purred. "It's a sensation that you've never experienced before, but we agreed to explore new territory together." Her voice was a seductive spell as she stroked his length, rubbing the head of his aching cock against the rough texture of the furniture while tugging gently on the chain that connected his tormented nipples. "When you fuck my ass, it feels amazing. I feel so much more sensitive and my orgasms are more intense. I want to give that back to you."

Okay, so he was a typical heterosexual male and he had always viewed his ass as exit-only, but the idea of his mistress doing something so taboo and kinky to his body somehow flipped a switch in his mind. His erection throbbed painfully, his mind spiraling with the desire to have her push him to his very limits. So, he acquiesced and nodded his head like an obedient slave.

He watched nervously over his shoulder, drool leaking down to his nipples and bringing him a period of respite from the uncomfortable clamps, as his mistress poured copious amounts of lube onto the strange black toy, which she fitted into a harness that was wrapped around her plush hips. When she began to slowly apply pressure with a lubed finger to his miniscule little hole, he gasped around his gag as her finger slipped inside. As that finger began to wiggle, he made a series of noises as she seemed to work at stretching him open.

The sensation was awkward, for sure: neither pleasurable nor entirely uncomfortable. He realized that she had quickly added a second finger to her melee and that was when he began to feel truly bizarre. Something inside of his mind was telling him that this was totally wrong and he should run fast and far, but his body was responding to how strange and taboo this entire ordeal truly was. Of course, his mistress was certain to continue to stroke his throbbing erection as best she could, trading off the blended sensations of pleasure and slight pain, pain and then pleasure.

"I wish you were wearing your tight vinyl pants right now," she cooed into his ear as she leaned over him. Her breasts were pressed heavily into his back, and he could feel her breathing begin to speed as she grew increasingly turned on. "I wish it was possible to fuck you with those pants on, because you look like the perfect bratty slave in them. And slave? Your deliciously plump ass is accentuated beautifully in those pants!"

He said nothing but the drool continued to rain down his chin and onto his smooth chest and the furniture below. When he felt the pressure increase and realized that she had added a third finger, he groaned and began to rub his glans onto the rough upholstery.

"Maybe we can get you a pair with a little trap-door?" she laughed. "I suspect that you enjoy being my bitch, don't you?"

At this, he shoved back onto her hand with a moan, drool flying every which way as he gritted out a, "Fuck!"

"You want me to fuck you?" his mistress purred and he could hear the dirty smirk in her sultry tone. "Do you think you are ready for that, slave?"

Truth be told, they had long since crossed beyond any territory that he knew and fully understood. Was he ready to have her jam something up his ass? Probably not. But fuck it if he wasn't so fucking hard right now that he would try literally anything she offered him -- so long as she kept tugging on the clamps just so and fisting his cock like that. Shit. He suspected that he was going to cum all over this stupid sofa tonight.

When he glanced over his shoulder, he saw his sexy mistress stroking her fake cock lovingly as she slathered the plug in copious lube. Realizing that he was watching her now, she smirked and then began to rub the extra lube all over her large breasts, paying special attention to her erect nipples which she pinched harshly. At the feel of her own rough touch, she tossed her head back and moaned. "Fuck, slave, my nipples actually ache -- I'm so turned on right now."

He continued to watch her movements with hungry eyes as she scooted herself closer to him and slapped his ass roughly once again. "Fuck," he hissed around the gag. Admittedly, it didn't actually hurt but it certainly smarted for a second or two. Being on the receiving end of a spanking was not something he experienced often, that was for sure.

"I love how it bounces!" his mistress giggled with delight. She began jostling around behind him, searching for a comfortable position that would work for her penetration. She seemed to settle on standing with her left leg on the floor and her right on the sofa, pressed between his hip and the cushions. This allowed her the space to move which, presumably, she would use to her advantage when she began to thrust.

When she seemed content with her location, she wrapped her body over his back and purred. The lube created a slippery friction between their skin as she pressed her weight down, and her erect nipples jabbed into his back. "Are you ready for me, slave?"

"I think so," he tried to respond but all he managed to do was to spew more drool everywhere.

She pressed the head of the plug up to his opening and smirked. "It will feel very strange at first but give it a chance."

With this, there was a slight pressure, nothing painful or overwhelming, but certainly nothing he had ever felt before. To say the sensation was bizarre was putting it lightly, but he didn't feel any cause for alarm. In fact, the thought that his petite little mistress was penetrating his body was rather kinky in the utmost sense of the term. His cock felt like it might split his skin it was so hard, and he momentarily forgot the weight that was tugging on his nipples.

Just when he began to wonder if this was all there was to this butt stuff, she slammed her hips forward and embedded ¾ of the plug into his body. He screamed and lunged forward, trying desperately to get away from his cruel mistress and the pain. This had changed the sensation entirely, from a kind of gentle tickle to feeling like he had a Louisville slugger crammed up his ass. He screamed again just at the thought.

His mistress giggled. "Oh, slave, this is exactly why I gagged you."

He was thrashing as best as he could now, debating if he should safe word. If he safe worded right now, would she consider him a wuss? Would he ever live down the shame? Shit. He wanted her to forever see him as the strong, dominant man who could take anything she dished out but this was not good. No. He felt torn open; it was a mixture of burning and fullness, pain and something very, very uncomfortable. And yet, somewhere in the pain, there was something else churning its way toward the surface.

"Can my slave hang in there for one more inch?" she cooed, reaching forward and grasping his now softening cock. "There's a surprise at the end."

"I don't know," he hissed around the gag. "It fucking hurts!"

"Are you going to safe word?" she taunted him and then, feeling guilty for this, she sighed. "Do you want me to stop? I promise you it gets better, but if you're not enjoying yourself we will stop immediately."

He considered this and realized that, no, he was not going to safe word and, no, he didn't really want to stop. He had come this far, what was another inch? He groaned, sexually frustrated as she tried to stroke him back to life while he debated whether to let her carry on with this charade. Eventually, she had delivered just enough pleasure that he groaned. "No. Go ahead, but please go slow."

"Was that a 'yes, mistress'?" she grinned as she cupped his balls.

"Yes, mistress," he hissed around the gag. The red fabric beneath him had turned to a darker, bloodier shade with all the saliva he was spewing, and the pain on his nipples increased when he rubbed his upper body against the furniture.

At this, she inched her hips forward slowly as she grabbed his hips for leverage. When she did this, there was pain, yes, but there was also a flash of white lightning. She had managed to reach something deep inside his body that was reacting to the toy, something that wanted her deeper. He growled loud enough that he scared himself with the sound.

"Found it," she cheered. She began to rock her hips slowly then, pushing in and causing his eyes to roll back into his head, then pulling slightly out before repeating the entire process.

His cock, which had been steadily deflating since her intrusion, suddenly burst back to life. His erection was so strong that it actually hurt; he felt that he might burst from his own skin and explode like a stick of dynamite. Whatever she was doing back there, whatever the massager was hitting, he felt like a wildfire had erupted against the surface of his skin and deep inside his balls. He could barely keep his eyes open, and he was only mildly aware of the fact that he was fighting against the wrist-cuffs and desperately trying to force himself backward to make rougher contact with his mistress' cock.

There was a feeling of waves exploding across his body, his abdomen rolling like thunder as a storm built inside his groin. Each thrust brought him closer to something dangerous, and he wanted more, more, more. In fact, he heard someone screaming "MORE!" over and over like an animal, and he was only vaguely aware that it must be himself. Fuck. What was she doing to him?

There was a moment then, as everything built and the frenzy whirled around him like some insane Tasmanian devil of sex, that he realized what was about to happen. When his mistress slammed into him and the plug hit its goal once again, the white lightning and its damning heat enveloped him and he lost all touch with the terrestrial world.

His mistress watched as, first, he tugged so violently against his restraints that she thought he might actually manage to tear the O-rings from the floor. Then, without any warning, he seemed to black out and fall forward, slumping over the side of the couch as his cock exploded onto the red fabric. String after string of white, hot cum painted the sofa and floor, her slave's body shaking as he whimpered. She watched this all unfold, curious but concerned that she had taken their game too far.

She quickly withdrew her toy, removing the entire harness from her body and setting everything aside. She crawled down onto the floor, working to remove the shackles from her slave's wrists, his gag, and the clamps from his poor, tortured nipples. They were a purplish red now, and she rubbed his chest slowly to try and coax them back to life. In turn, this seemed to rouse her exhausted slave, whose beautiful brown eyes opened slowly as he began to recover from his orgasm.

There was a heavy film of drunken lust in his eyes as he blinked several times, as if he was waking from a lengthy sex-induced coma. His long lashes twitched with the movement, and then a sated grin crossed his handsome face. "Fucking hell," he rasped, voice hoarse. "What did you do to me?"

"I milked your prostate," his naughty little playmate smiled sweetly. "And you passed out!"

"That was," he began, then searched for the right word. Failing, he simply shook his head. "That was something else. Jesus Christ!"

Goddess bless her, his little mistress looked suddenly shy as she glanced his body up and down. "Are you alright? I didn't hurt you, did I?"

He shook his head slowly, inventorying all of his myriad parts and realizing that he felt fully alive for the first time in a long while. His cock, now flaccid, was lying heavily on his thigh and he felt entirely spent, like she had milked every last drop of cum from his balls. He smirked. "I'm better than brand new, baby!"

"Good," she grinned. She grabbed a handful of his short, inky black locks and shoved his face into the wet sofa. Laughing, she demanded: "Clean your mess, slave!"