To Cherish & Obey

There are times when the reality of what I'm seeing and doing, and hoping for, comes crashing through the erotic haze in which Mistress keeps me enveloped. Here I am, three months away from marrying her, with my hands cuffed behind my back and my cock restraint attached to the footrail of her bed, watching as she administers a sluttishly-wet-and-nasty blowjob to some lucky stud who had already kissed, licked, sucked, and fingered her precious pussy into several orgasms.

And all I am hoping for in all of this is that she will tongue kiss me after he comes in her mouth and feed me his load. This is third time I've witnessed Mistress having sex with another man, but each time I have been denied any role, either during the sex or in cleaning her afterwards, and I was being driven crazy with the desire to do so with my tongue.

Mistress has promised me that I will soon savor and eat other men's cum as I do my own, and she has a way of making me long for things that I had never desired before meeting her. How has she done this to me? I've asked that question many times, and can only think that she knows my mind and its dark-and-dirty recesses better than do I. She always has.

Our relationship started so normally, and in fact much of our time together is still vanilla. Not until our third date did she invite me back to her apartment, and I assumed wrongly that my beloved Stephanie was ready to let me into her panties. In the elevator she simply turned to me, cupped my balls, and told me to do everything she said and that I would enjoy it. I could not argue with such a proposition.

Once her door was closed behind us she turned to me, her beautiful blue eyes drilling into me, her imperious and classically-pretty face deadly serious, and told me to take off my shirt, then my shoe and socks. Then, she unbuckled my belt and removed it, doubling it over and holding it menacingly in her hands. At this point I'm thinking that I'm in for some kinky foreplay before the main event, and my hard cock pressing through my slacks was clearly showing her how excited she had me. And, as non-chalantly as she had me remove the rest of my clothes, she ordered me to remove my pants and underwear.

She looked me over as if appraising me. I keep myself in pretty good shape, and knowing that I'm at least handsome enough to attract the attention of this very desirable and successful woman made me somewhat comfortable in this otherwise-awkward situation, but I had always been the one doing the appraising and inspecting, not the one on the receiving end of such attention. My cock was jutting out defiantly between us. Stephanie remained there, firmly in control, as I didn't even think of initiating any contact.

Mistress looked stunning in her miniskirt and clingy sweater, and her knee-high boots against her bare legs had been driving me crazy all evening. "Go ahead and look at them. You have been the whole evening. Maybe I'll let you worship them...if you're a good boy." Such was my initiation into her web of domination.

She calmly walked over to her sofa and left me standing where I was, not knowing what to do. Calmly, as she was sitting, she ordered me to my knees, then told me to clasp my hands behind my back. From this vantage point I tried looking between her legs but she was a step ahead of me, as usual, keeping her knees together and shifting her legs around.

"Lean forward and put your nose into the carpet." That was harder to do than I could have imagined, not that I'd ever pictured myself doing such an act. I could not do as ordered without slightly unclasping my hands. "Now, crawl over here just like that."

The rug burned so I turned my cheek into it as I crawled on my knees over torwards her. When I got to her feet she used one to press on my head, stopping me. "I said to keep your nose in the carpet, didn't I?"

"Yes, ma'am," I responded without thinking. Pulling me up by my hair she ordered me to hobble on my knees back to where I started, and then try again. This time I kept my nose in the carpet as I scooted over to her, and again she used a foot to stop me when I was close enough and kept it there to hold my face down.

"That's better, but we have so much to work on and correct. Now, about you calling me 'ma'am'...that's not a proper address, is it?"

"No, mistress." The title just came out of my mouth before I even thought of saying it.

"That's better, slave. Now, when I take my foot away, you keep your face where it is."

She spread her feet fairly wide on either side of me and then just sat there a moment, eventually picking up a television remote and doing some channel surfing. My cock was so hard it hurt, and my mouth hungered for the leather boots that were mere inches away, but it was my eyes that got the better of me. I ever-so-slightly tilted my head, trying to get a peek at her crotch. I got away with it once, then a second time, or so I thought. Reaching down, she simply turned my face back into the floor.

"We'll have none of that. Don't think I don't know what you're doing."

I knew at that point that she definitely knew what she was doing, just as she knew how to drive a man crazy with her mouth. She kept her lover hard for what seemed like an hour, although my frustration from being bound and unable to touch myself or even get hard inside the tight confines of the restraint probably had a lot to do with that. She slurped out a long strand of spit on his cockhead and then took it back into her mouth, then showed it to me as if it were a prized load of cum.

"Please, Mistress, let me taste that," I begged, barely audible, in a voice barely recognizable as my own.

"Quiet, slave, you will be punished later for begging without permission."

I knew better, of course, than to commit such a breach of her rules. Although she was understanding of my amateurish mistakes in the beginning, she still has always punished me in the cruelest of ways: Denying me access to her, or denying me permission to do the dirty, nasty things that she made me crave. She hints at what decadence lay ahead, lets the image play in my mind, makes me need it, then denies me at first, stringing out the psycho-drama for hours, days, or weeks.

Just as she was doing by denying me her saliva, she did to me on our first night, making me keep my nose in the carpet between her spread feet, knowing that I craved licking her leather boots or looking up at her pantied crotch.

"You're desperate to see my pussy, aren't you? Hmm? You want to know what kind of panties I have on. What color...if they're sheer and if you can see through them...if they're lacy..."

She was reading my mind! I was desperate to know and to look, yet I kept my nose planted firmly in her carpeted floor, not daring to lift it even though I was not restrained. After keeping me like that for about 20 or 30 minutes, my back and legs aching, Mistress informed me that I may lick the toe of her left boot. After several clumsy swipes with my tongue she told me to stop but I didn't - I was in such a delirium from the pain and from finally being given permission that I kept on licking. She simply used her other booted foot to push my head aside and force my face back into the carpet.

"You know, I like seeing my slaves in panties. It makes you look so ridiculous...it kind of undercuts your silly little attempts at being macho. And remember, if I allow you to strip for me again, my slaves' balls must be shaven bare and the hair around their cocks must be trimmed and well-groomed. I will call you if I desire to have you again. Now, crawl back over to where you left your clothes."

I lifted up to hobble on my knees and turned around. She stopped me and told me to keep my hands clasped behind me, and I obeyed. Then she simply pushed me forward with her foot and tipped me over. "Keep your nose in the carpet." After I crawled over to my clothes she told me to remain kneeling as I put on my shirt, then directed me in what order to replace each article of clothing. Her attention to detail in her control of me was absolute.

When I was dressed, and still facing away from her, she simply told me to leave. No goodbyes, no 'I'll call you' or anything. I left literally without looking back at her, not knowing if I'd ever see her again.

Needless to say, as soon as I got back to my apartment I jerked off - twice - thinking of her, fantasizing about worshipping her boots and her bare feet, and whatever else may lie ahead...if she would allow it.

Of course she did, or else I would not be standing here watching as Mistress lies back on the bed, with some guy with an eight-inch cock straddling her chest pumping volley after volley of cum into her mouth. After she suckled him for a couple of minutes and he finally pulled out and laid down, Mistress opened her mouth to show me the load, playing with it with her tongue. Sitting up she leaned in toward my face, and mouthed the word 'beg.'

"Please, Mistress, please let me swallow the load of cum for you. Please."

Smiling wickedly she swallowed hard, once, twice, then opened her wet mouth to show me that the load was all gone.

"Bad slaves who beg without permission don't get to swallow cum. Remember that for next time."

And, of course, for days I rued that one mistake that kept me from tasting and swallowing another man's cum for the first time. Next time I would not make such a mistake. She had me fantasizing again...