Turn About Being Fair Play Ch 02

Hmm, I guess it's my turn to tell the story. Turn-about is fair play indeed!

Letting my boy tap into his slightly darker side was... actually hotter than I expected. That's part of what's interesting about it - and him in general, really - he is a cutie but fundamentally a submissive soul. Brings me tea and food whenever I want, and always looks after my needs, often to his own detriment more than he'd ever want to admit. I need him to look after himself more, I guess, and part of that is about letting him let out the parts of his nature that he's ashamed of and would prefer to pretend he doesn't have.

So being a bit cheeky and encouraging him to tie me up was a safety valve of sorts - for him. For me, it was just fun to watch - there's something about his expression when he's plotting something devious.

But I can also see from the last few days that opening that door has not been a simple one. He's known for a long time that he's submissive through-and-through, to the point where it's part of his identity. Opening the door a crack to suggest otherwise needed to happen, but it wasn't going to be easy for him. He's been more moody and more introverted the last few days, always a sign that he's having some internal trouble, more than just the usual work nonsense.

I guess it's time I helped him reconcile that - that just because I let him stray outside the usual boundaries of our situation, that it doesn't redefine who he is, and that it doesn't redefine who I am, and most importantly it doesn't redefine who we are as a couple. The fact we'll have fun with this is just a nice by-product. And if I play it right, I get my submissive lover to reclaim who he is, whilst being comfortable with this extra part of him that will be fun for me. Even a dominant girl doesn't want to have to do all the hard work.

I arranged to have a Friday working from home, so that I'd have time to prepare before he got home from work, and a little time to mess with him beforehand, and a weekend to look after him afterward.

About an hour before he left work, I texted him, "So what's a girl got to do to get in trouble around here?" I figured this was playful, prodding at the slightly open wound in a bratty way, and indicated that I was up for some fun this weekend.

With that, I packed up the work laptop and began to prepare for the evening's entertainment: a submissive re-learning his place.

First things first, wardrobe. I know he has fashion fetishes, things he'd like me to wear and, honestly, I usually don't. Why would I, as a dominant, have my creative choices and what sets my mood dictated to me by my submissive? That was something I had encountered with previous subs, that they had fashion choices they wanted, as though they couldn't otherwise be dominated unless that was going on - and to me, that didn't seem very dominating.

But today, it seemed like that was needed, so I fished out the dark, almost navy, blue satin shirt, a hot pink tie, leather skirt and knee-high boots. Never been much of a fan of shirts - they never seem to sit right, but a couple of safety pins artfully concealed later, and all is well. I needed to quickly skim a tutorial or two on tying a tie, but I got it to sit how I wanted, and how I know he liked it. Just as a flourish, I added a pair of his cufflinks to the cuffs, a detail he'd notice, and be reminded that he is mine. (At least, that's the intent. He is his own person, after all, and ownership is given, not taken.)

Toys, I'd need a few, but they could wait. I could mess with him a bit when he got here, like getting things out of the toybox that I had no intention of using.

But first I needed to spread a towel out on the bed, one of the big ones that - much as I'd never really indicated - I'd bought specifically for this purpose. Who needs a 2m square beach towel when living in a town with a pebble beach? Answer, me, because it covers the whole bed and I had a feeling tonight might get messy.

And I wrote a note, pinned it to the bedroom door. "When you arrive home, you are to remove all your clothes, place them in a tidy pile by the door, knock three times, then turn around." It's not the best wording, but I know full well that being simple, direct and clear is more useful to him when he's in a funk than any amount of clever wording and puzzling that I might do just to mess with him.

And with that, I shut the bedroom door, sat on the corner of the bed, checked the tie was tied straight one more time, adjusted my hair, and waited for him to come home.

I didn't have long to wait - looks like he had left work promptly and walked home without staying a bit later as he sometimes does. I took that to be a good sign.

I heard him putting his laptop bag down in the hallway, the clatter of keys being put to one side, dull thuds as boots came off, shuffling into the bathroom. His usual routine - also a good sign.

Then I had that moment - when you can 'hear the silence' as it were, where the absence of a sound is a sound in itself, and where anything could happen. This was the make-or-break moment for the evening, possibly the weekend, and being honest I'm not sure I'd have coped well if he'd decided he didn't want to deal with having fun.

But I heard some shuffling noises, then the sound of knuckles rapping on wood. Once. Twice. Thrice. Showtime.

I opened the door, and there he stood, naked, facing away from me. Just this man, naked, the things I wanted to do to him. The things I wanted him to do with me. Fairly sure he could smell my scent. At least, I hoped he could.

I stepped behind him, the not-so-high heels of my boots clicking on the wooden floor. I'm normally taller than him anyway, the heels just adding a couple of inches to that.

He's a little tense, hunching those shoulders just a little. Maybe I should help that. Hands on his shoulders, thumbs in the area by the shoulder blade, I gently dig in and work the muscles.

"Now, then, little one. Can't have you all tense when I want to have fun with you." He's just about to turn his head, but I interrupt. "Nuh, no looking at me."

I take his wrists, hold them behind his back, and lean in to seductively murmur in his ear. "You've been a bad boy, I can't let you go having ideas above your place, now, can I?" He knows fine that this isn't really a transgression, that we're now entering a place where his misdemeanours such as they are will be punished, but that the misdemeanour in question is irrelevant and in this particular case was instigated by me - he's more than clever enough to know that I'm pushing his kink rather than actually giving him a hard time about anything actually bad.

But in the moment, the intellectualisation doesn't matter. It's just the pretence of the thing and in the moment, he will suffer for it, he will release his inner tensions through sexual expiation - at least in his mind - and very likely, come very hard afterwards. Which is exactly what I want. I want him to associate him having kinky fun times 'sadisting' me as something that he will be 'punished' for later, thus giving him the mental space to have fun with it and not demonise himself for doing so.

And if that isn't fair play turnabout, I have no idea what is.

I take a step back. "Turn around."

He does so, and I watch his gaze start at my feet and work upwards. I've long known that he habitually looks towards the floor in general (that submissive streak at work), but in this case I'm intentionally using it against him, with my boots being the least intimidating part of the outfit, rising up with the rest of me.

I follow his gaze - and his building erection - up from my boots to my skirt, to the shirt and tie combination. He often frets about this, about it being weird, but actually looking online it's really quite common. Hot pink with almost-navy blue is a bit rarer but it's a colour combination that's pretty striking and seems to have an effect. I think the fact that I'm not a fan probably helps it be incredible when I do do it.

Anyway, he's standing before me, erect, a little nervous, wondering what I'm about to do. If I'm honest, I'm a bit unsure myself. I don't plan things out in advance (you probably guessed from the writing?) but go with how it feels at the time.

I walk around to the side of the bed furthest from the door, to the toybox. "Come here." And he meekly does so. Good boy. I smile.

"Now, let's see, you've been bad, and must be punished. And I think it warrants something a bit more... clear."

As I say this, I've just decided what I'm going to do.

"Let's play a game, of how many toys we can fit on you." He looks at me, and I see something of his spirit shining. His eyes are glowing with love, lust... and a little nervousness, but that's OK.

"First things first, we don't want you getting too excited." I rummage in the toybox and find myself a piece of smooth cord. I wrap it around his balls and the base of his cock, and tie it deftly to pull his balls slightly - just enough to make it a tiny bit harder for him to come when we get there.

"Because you're not going to come any time soon, now, are you?" I paused, letting him make some vague negative-sounding noise. "You're going to be good for me and not come until I tell you."

He looks up at me as I'm holding his nicely-tied cock, and there's nothing but love in his eyes.

"Now, what's next?" I rummage through the toy box, making a show of picking up different things as if I'm thinking about it, though I already decided the next toy.

"Ah, here we go. Bend over for me."

As he does, I make a show of inspecting his cute butt, before slapping his buttocks a few times, each one eliciting a delicious moan. I start alternating between his buttocks, watching them get a little redder, the moans a little louder.

I squirt a little lube onto his butthole, smiling at the sharp intake of breath as the lube is colder than his skin (especially now), and take the buttplug I've chosen for this evening. It's not too long or too wide, but his butt holds it nicely snugly once inserted - and speaking of which, his butt accepts it somewhat eagerly today. I tap it a few times on its flared base once inserted, getting a few intakes of breath in appreciation.

"Hmm. What else do I need to do with cute boys in trouble?" I get some kind of non-committal answer, usually a sign that he's already sliding gently into subspace.

I reach down into the toybox and lift out a hood. "If you were a good boy, you'd get to see me and appreciate how amazing I look. But you're not a good boy, so you have to wear this."

He reaches over to the dresser and, without prompting, offers up a hairband to tie his long mane up into a ponytail to thread through the back of the hood, before I pull it over his head, and zip it up at the back.

"Still OK in there?" The hood only has holes for the nose and mouth, and for the ponytail of course, but it's fairly tight around his features and we haven't played *that* much with being enclosed. I get a positive note in response, so I carry on.

One of the really nice features of his hood is that it has holes for threading a small collar through it making sure its wearer can't do anything with it, and I take out the collar I had made just for him, weave it around the hood and buckle it tight, and snapping a tiny padlock on it.

"Mine."

But the hood is a fine mesh material, and I'm sure he can still see something through it. "You can still see me, can't you? Only good boys would get to see me."

With that, I take out the close-fitting blindfold and buckle it tightly around his head. "There we go, now you can't see me." My stating the obvious unexpectedly yields a twitch of his cock.

"You know what else? Good boys would be able to moan, but you're not a good boy, I don't think you get to say anything. Or to complain about anything I'm going to do to you."

There is no hesitation in opening his mouth for a gag and no resistance as I slid it past his teeth and buckle it tightly, without any room to push it out. It's the biggest one we have, and I can tell from his body language that he's OK.

"Now I want you to get on the bed. Can you do that for me? Aim for the middle of the bed." Watching him clamber slightly awkwardly onto the bed, to keep the buttplug in place, and laying down in the middle of the bed... part of me just wants to ride that cock of his right now, but that's not the aim of this game.

I rummage unnecessarily noisily in the box, and draw out four pieces of rope. Of course, he can't see what I'm doing, but the noises should be making his overactive imagination run rampant.

I just take a wrist, loop the rope around, loop it back on itself to keep it snug, and then tie it to the corner of the bed. Then repeat with his other wrist. "There we go, nice and comfortable, and no chance for you to please yourself."

Ankles are a little more complicated because I have a plan here. I reach for our beautiful wooden-based spreader bar, open his legs wide enough to position the bar in between. Then loop some rope around his ankle, through the clip of the spreader bar, back round the ankle, then round the bed corner.

Doing the same with the other ankle ensures that he is kept spread and can't bend his knees any - he will be spread and bound for me.

"There we go, all comfortable?" I run my fingers down his chest, as a positive noise escapes from behind the gag. So cute, so vulnerable, and judging by his erection, somewhat needy. No matter, he'll be needier before I'm done with him.

Another quick rummage later, and he knows what's coming next, because only one thing makes the noise I'm currently making - the chain of our most vicious pair of clover clamps. I run my fingers around one nipple, warming it slightly, teasing it, hardening it just enough, and then attaching a clamp just behind its most sensitive area. People always assume that you should just clamp the nipple - but the pain is too much too quickly, better to clamp just behind, for a longer, slower build up to something similar.

I repeat with the other nipple and there's a definite noise as the second clamp goes on. And a cock twitch.

"There we go. Bad boys suffering for their misbehaviours... but..." I add a more stern note in my voice. "But not enough."

Whatever inner demons he's been dealing with since I let out his desire to have a wicked way with me, they're probably getting some kind of workout about now. I see the first drop of precum forming, and I haven't even toyed with him yet. Just setting the stage has done that.

He'll be suffering a bit longer before I let him enjoy himself. I, of course, find the whole thing fascinatingly hot - but I'm not going to play with myself until this is done, don't want to lose concentration.

I take out another set of clamps that we have - less vicious, on nipples at least - and gently pull a bit of skin out on the side of his balls, and attach. There's a sharp intake of breath, and I quickly check if that's OK, but I get a positive noise in response, so I attach the other end to the other side of his balls, to another slightly more urgent intake of breath.

As much as part of me wants to just ride him - and I'm definitely wet now - the goal is to prolong this as long as possible. So I clamber on the bed, lift my skirt slightly and position my crotch over his face, just so he can smell my dampness and my need, and I lean down and run my tongue over his head.

The response is electrifying - his cock twitches and stiffens under the touch of my tongue. I raise my head with a pleasant voice remind him, "Remember, no coming."

But with that warning reminder, I carry on licking his cock, admiring how he's taking the situation in and being reminded that I'm the boss. I can tell from the tension in his shaft that he's having a little trouble holding back.

So I'll be kind, as I gently start to shift my weight to get off the bed, and making sure I don't kick him in the head or having my clothes tug at the clamps on his nipples, or anything like that.

With a very gentle tug on the clamps, yielding a slight moan, I remind him again, "You're going to be suffering for a long, long time before I let you come." It's not true, and I think even he knows it, but I'm going to mess with him a bit.

"Just imagine, if you'd been a good boy, I could have tied you up, and be riding your cock while looking this fabulous for you. Instead I'm going to have to make you suffer. And if you behave then, then I might let you come."

His cock is twitching some more, so clearly whatever is going through his mind is working for him.

I reach for a few clothes pegs, and add a line of them down the underside of his shaft. "There we go." He can hear that I'm smiling as I say it, pegs have always been one of my fun go-to toys.

And so I start gradually stroking his shaft, very slightly wanking him, knowing that every motion is both exquisitely pleasurable and painful for him. Every little motion tugs on each of the pegs, and where he's getting more excited, his balls have swollen slightly, causing the clamps to pull slightly more.

The more I move, the more he's starting to moan, and his breathing has sped up. There's also a little more pre-cum, so he's clearly getting a bit closer.

"Someone's needy. Something you want, little one?" He moans positively through the gag.

I untie his left wrist from the bed - he's right handed so this wouldn't be his usual feeling - and led his hand to his throbbing cock. "Go on, then, have some fun."

I watch him, gently, slowly start to stroke himself, fingers reaching for his pre-cum and smearing it down his shaft as he starts to work it slowly and carefully given the pegs.

What hasn't occurred to him yet is that I didn't untie the wrist end of his rope, but the bed end. And this will be his undoing momentarily.

The pre-cum is getting a bit thicker, he's clearly weighing up his need to come now, versus the pain of the pegs if he actually did so, but just before he makes the decision to do it, I pull away the rope his wrist is bound to, just leaving his cock to throb and pulse as it is in clear need of relief.

I take off the peg nearest his head, and gently move his hand back to his cock. "There you go, have fun."

The most intense of the pegs removed, his self stimulation is a little more intense this time, but again, as he showed signs of pre-cum coming out, I pulled his hand away.

"Bad boys don't get to come yet!" But even as I said it, I took the rest of the pegs off his cock, leaving everything else in place, and for good measure gave his shaft a good sucking for a moment. He's clearly fighting to hold back at this point, and it's moments like this that make me weak at the knees; here is a man who is holding back to be the best he can be in this moment. It's beautiful.

I stand back, put his hand back on his cock, and watch him stroke himself, despite how hard his body wants to let go.

I give it a few seconds, lead down near to his ear, and whisper, "You're a good boy, come for me."

It doesn't take long before he does - strong, powerful eruptions, his whole body pulling on the ropes, convulsing as his cock spasms over and over, each time a low gutteral noise comes out from behind the gag.

I reach down, take the clamps off his balls, and off his chest - there's a small wincing noise as each happens - and he leans his head up so I can unclasp the gag in his mouth.

I'm just about to fiddle with the collar around his neck when he mutters not to do that, and to just leave it for a moment. Whatever subspace he was in, it was intense and he's not quite ready to return to the real world yet, even though every instinct I have is to take every rope and toy off him.

I untie the ropes from his ankles and his other wrist - they're all clean - and I can see he's got some very light abrasions from it, nothing that will take more than a few hours to fade.