Friendship

Hi everyone! 10 years on, I have thought it was high time I finished writing Friendships, the story that for me, started it all. Through researching for and writing this, I have made incredible friends, lived wonderful experiences and learnt so much more about myself.

This story can be read alone, but will make more sense after reading Friendship Chapter 1.

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"Do it, slave." Her voice whipped me, lashing me with her anger. It wasn't the first time she had told me to message the girl, but I hated it all the same. Fumbling with my phone, I tried not to let myself slip.

- Do it, slut -- I texted, feeling low as I did it.

"Good boy." She crooned, stroking my hair and running her nails down my neck. I closed my eyes and leaned into her touch, my needs intensifying as she touched me.

"I just hate it, Mistress." I muttered.

"Hate what, slave?" She whispered, turning her red lips to my neck and licking me gently as she kissed me.

"Hate taking your place. I'm the slave, not the Master. I can't be a Master. I'm the slut -- I should be called a slut, not this girl. She shouldn't be treating me as a Master. It's wrong." I moaned, hating how out of place and conflicted she made me feel.

Her mouth stopped, and her tongue disappeared.

"It's wrong? It's wrong? My decision, my choice, the idea I have -- is wrong?" She murmured against my throat.

"Um... no... it's not that your idea is wrong..." I tried to backtrack from where I'd clearly put my foot in it. Butterflies started to churn in my stomach, and I began to panic.

She bit me, hard enough that her teeth drew blood. Her red lipstick was perfectly imprinted around the bite mark, red against my tanned skin. I gasped, my back arching away from her.

I watched us in the mirror before us as we sat on the floor, her enthroned in the midst of blue cushions and white velvet blankets, me leaning back against her, reveling in her glory. Her deep brown eyes shone with delight as she idly stroked the side of my face. I was taller than she was, but from the minute I met her, I had felt as though she overshadowed me.

"What, slave? You think you're better than this? You think you deserve better? You don't like a bit of punishment?" She bit me again, her words getting harsher and harsher until she was growling against my throat.

I cringed, a tear rolling down my cheeks at the thought of failing her.

"Get up. Get up!" She snapped at me, grabbing the phone from me and throwing it to the floor.

I jumped to my feet, and ran to lay on the large four-poster bed where she was pointing at. Ripping off my clothes, Mistress pushed me back again from where I had tried to rise to help her, slapping my face.

"What the hell aren't you laying down for? You're on a bed! That's what you should be doing!"

I lay back, chastised by her sharp tone. She was an intimidating woman, almost reaching 5"5, her plentiful curves barely contained by her red silk corset and panty set, and tumbling dark hair falling down her back. She never wore heavy makeup around me except for her lipstick, but the mix between natural beauty and the ability to paint her lips on me turned me on so much, it was difficult to contain myself around her.

We had met online three months earlier through a fetish website, and I had been drawn to her dominating personality straight away. I had known I was a submissive since I was 14, and my then girlfriend took control. I had exploded for her faster than when I was on my own, and knew that she and her bossy personality was exactly what I craved.

Mistress was only a few years older than me, in her late thirties. She was always the one to initiate contact, dictating when to meet, where, and what to do. Just the way I liked it.

Her real name was Sarah, but she preferred Mistress. I had no idea how she chose me, but I was grateful that she did.

Mistress took out her makeup brush from her black leather purse. Trailing it lightly over my skin, she teased my nipples until they stood up straight for her, and I was shivering in anticipation.

"Please," I whispered, begging for her to touch me, anything.

She laughed at me, deep and throaty, mocking me for wanting her so badly. I knew she did, knew she wanted me to want her because she took pleasure in my desperation, but I couldn't help it. I wanted her, her touch, for her to seek her own pleasure using me.

Mistress bent towards me, blowing warm air over my nipples. Working on one, she continued to gently stroke with her makeup brush on the other until she swapped. She had told me once that she loved the way I reacted for her when she played with me like this, how my nipples turned big and puffy for her.

Stopping suddenly, she returned to her makeup bag. I leaned out into her, into the space she was a second ago, and nearly fell off the bed. She laughed at me again, turning towards me with another grooming tool. I sat up to watch her come towards me, her beauty beyond words.

She held her eyebrow brush towards me, threatening me with the sharp bristles attached to it.

"You think I am wrong. You think I am wrong?!" she murmured to me, her voice dropping low with distaste, so I had to lean close to listen. "You've pushed me too far. If I choose for you to dominate this girl, then you will. You don't ask questions about my decisions!"

I nodded and acquiesced, mumbling my apologies endlessly to her, over and over and over.

"And you're still not lying on the bed!"

I lay back down immediately, watching for her. She bent over me, and started to play with my nipples again. Teasing them until they stood up, she stopped, and bound my left foot. Returning to my chest, she pinched masterfully until I was trying to push myself into her hands. Stopping again, she turned to my right hand, and tied it to another post.

Mistress stood back, watching me try to follow her with my body while maintaining contact with the bed, and ran a long red-painted fingernail down the middle of my chest. Making quick work of it, she tied my other hand and foot to the posts, ensuring I couldn't move.

She looked at me, completely naked and tied to the bed. A slow smile spread, and I recognized the evil look in her eyes. Mistress moved back to sit alongside me so that she could easily reach all of me -- reach over to kiss me and reach down to stroke me.

She spent time just looking at me, watching as my chest rose and fell, watching as I watched her; that same smile staying on her face.

Finally I caved, begging and pleading for her to touch me.

Looking into my eyes, she leaned over me towards my nipples until she lost eye contact. I couldn't stretch my neck down enough to see what she as about to do, but groaned as I felt her tongue against my right side.

Taking my nipple into her mouth, she sucked and slowly swirled her tongue around me, her fingers playing with my other nipple. Tasting it until I tried to push more of my chest up to meet her, she let go and moved down to kneel between my legs. Grabbing her eyebrow brush, I could feel her trailing it up my ribs towards my right nipple, startling me with the sharpness of the bristles against my skin.

She began to lick and suck tenderly on my left nipple, the softness and gentleness a difference between the stiff brush scraping against my other, wet nipple. Crying out as I struggled to control how the two different sensations were affecting me, I felt myself growing beneath her satin-covered curves.

We had discovered that I didn't feel the softness of a feather, and that I hated the pain and the sting of a whip, but pretty much everything in between was acceptable.

Mistress switched sides, and shimmied down a little more so that her breasts escaped her corset and rested against my stomach, her stomach lightly pressing against my cock as it grew from her ministrations. The scrape of her brush, combined with the wetness of her mouth and tenderness of her tongue were too hard to combat, and I gave into the sensations completely.

My eyes closed of their own free will, and I sighed into the feelings. That was when she started to nip at me, gently at first, then slowly starting to bite down harder. She began to switch more often, faster and faster, stroking at random with the brush -- sometimes hard, others softly.

"Please, Mistress, please! When can I please you? When may I help you to feel good?" I begged throughout, pleading for permission to touch her, taste her, anything.

Finally she stopped and moved further down my body, kissing as she went. I stretched my neck down and watched her kiss her way down my stomach to my extremely hard and ready cock. Stretching out her tongue, she licked her way around me, never quite touching me and making my cock jump. I began to mumble unintelligently, half begging her to end my suffering and just touch me, half begging her to continue and prolong my suffering.

Mistress just smirked at me, her lipstick still partially on her lips and the rest of it smeared against my nipples and down my stomach, creating a line to her face perfectly.

She gave one strong lick up the base of my cock to the tip and paused on my tip, the flat of her tongue balancing my cock for me to see. Releasing me, she laughed as my cock fell down and then bounced for her again. She began to lick all over it, long swipes which wet my cock and teased me with her warm mouth.

Reaching over with her hand, she began to fondle and play with my balls, gently stroking and teasing them. The first brush of her long acrylic nails had me gasping and writhing, and she started to tug and pull on my balls, stretching them out from my body as far as they could go. I loved this sensation, it was torture of the very best kind.

When I was dropping precum, Mistress took my cock into her mouth, only a little at first but slowly enough that she could really stroke her tongue against me. She left the head in her mouth, swirling her tongue around the tip.

I kept moaning and wriggling under her, slowly being teased to the point where I was about to explode for her. My groans increased, growing louder and I begged her to allow me to finish.

"Not yet, my sweet," she laughed at me, her eyes looking into mine as she flicked her tongue over my head again. Holding my cock in her right hand, she began to stroke and squeeze it as her hand rose towards the tip. I nearly screamed as the pressure increased each stroke, especially as she lowered her head to suck hard on my tip. Grabbing hold of her eyebrow brush again, she teased the stiff bristles against my nipples as she sucked harder and harder until her cheeks hollowed and I thought I could explode from the pressure.

Scrabbling at the covers, I tapped twice on her arm, our signal for when it was about to go too far. She lessened the pressure, flicking her tongue over me until I cried out again.

Standing up, she walked around the bed to face me. She surveyed her work, her panting boy tied up for her use. She shimmied out of her panties, leaving her corset on to further accentuate her cleavage, and to remind me of her dominance over my nakedness as if I could have ever forgotten.

"So, you think I might make you please me, after you've insulted me and doubted the decisions I make, as your Mistress? Why would I want someone like that to touch me, much less bring me pleasure?"

I almost cried, I was so upset at how she has taken my ill-thought words.

"Please, Mistress, please!"

She smirked at me, before throwing her leg over me and quite literally straddling my face, the rosebud of her ass resting just above my nose. "You begged so nicely slave, I may as well give you another chance. I doubt it will change anything, but give it a go..."

I leapt at my chance with a fervency rarely seen from my before -- trying to create as much pleasure as I could give. I played my tongue along the crease of her thighs, the fleshy lips and the inner crease between her lips and her sweet spot. I could feel her above me, trying to hold off, but I used all my knowledge of her favourite touches to make her cry out.

"Well, slave, turns out you might actually know something about giving me pleasure. But I'm still not impressed by the way you thought you knew better than me."

I struggled to respond to her, trapped under her weight and my shame.

"But that's ok, I'll just have to punish you until I cum on you."

I grinned, before throwing myself back into my task.

She reached down and began to play my nipples with wet fingers, teasing them until they stood stiff and proud for her. I could feel my cock stiffening back up to its hardest after the slight interlude, and knew she noticed it by the deep throaty chuckle she gave me.

"What's this, slave? What are you hoping to do with this?" She flicked at me with the back of her fingers as she laughed at me. I moaned into her, hope welling inside me as she touched me, even dismissively.

She worked her fingers over my chest and stomach, moving lower slowly, bit by bit. She ground her hips over my mouth as well, encouraging my efforts at pleasing her.

Suddenly she rose up, my neck stretching as I tried to follow her.

"Look at this little cock. It's so cute! Look, it's trying to say hello!" My cock was throbbing, leaking, desperate for her. I wanted more than anything for her to touch me, for my tongue to regain contact with her clit, for her to approve.

"Open your mouth and lay out your tongue, flat."

Confused, I obeyed, unsure what she was about to do.

"Don't move, pet." Her slight Romanian accent came out as she shifted above me, reassuring me I had done the right thing.

Her pussy descended onto my tongue, and she rolled her hips forward, hitting with her clit first before swiping my tongue with her pussy. I groaned loudly, barely able to control myself from reacting. I allowed myself a quick flick with my tongue as her sweet cunt left, savouring the taste of her each time. She pinched my nipples in response, but made no comment, so I continued flicking and rimming the edge of her wet hole.

She stiffened above me, rigid, and danced her body above my face in an attempt to control the oncoming orgasm. I sighed silently, knowing I wasn't yet forgiven enough to be rewarded with her cum. Once she regained control, she lowered herself slowly, oh so slowly, back down towards my mouth. My tongue found her slick wetness again, and I lost myself to the taste and textures of her.

She loved it when I played with her clit directly, usually with two fingers plunging into her, but that was only when I was good. When I needed to be punished, she would shift out of the way, reminding me I had more to tease, more to explore. I felt along the smoothness of her lips, the sweetness of her dripping onto my waiting tongue, eager to prove to her my worth, and to hear her moans above.

She leaned forward, breasts resting on my stomach, pushing her pussy further towards my mouth. Her tongue flicked against the head of my cock, tasting the precum that was leaking steadily, showing her my excitement. I shuddered, her touch tempting me.

"Good boy. You are so hard", she emphasized the last word with a sudden squeeze, causing me to jump and clench my muscles in the hope I wouldn't embarrass myself too soon.

I knew better than to talk, so I agreed by licking her clit, a hard press that had her pushing back against me. In that moment I knew what she wanted, and that I was going to be forgiven.

"Just there, that's right, my sweet. When I cum, I want you to finish also, shooting as hard as you can, you know I love to watch you." Her whispered words had me fighting myself for control, and her husky chuckle told me she saw the attempt. I almost lost the battle straight away, but she pushed against my mouth once more and I forgot about my discomfort.

She came closer and closer, a small high pitched whine escaped her throat when I missed her clit with my tongue and circled it instead, her thighs quivering when I laid the flat of my tongue over it. She repaid me with strokes and soft touches, keeping me so, so close, but never there.

Finally, after hours, minutes, seconds, days, she moaned, "yes!" and spat on my cock, running her hand over her lubrication and making me writhe uncontrollably for her. I closed my lips on her clit and sucked hard, lashing what I could with my tongue as quick as I could. I felt her release come all over me, pouring into my mouth as she gushed for me. I cried out beneath her as I came for her, as hard as I ever had. Ropes of white shot high and fell against my stomach, narrowly missing her as she sat up against me, grinding to draw out her pleasure.

When she could stand, she rose above me, looking down with a soft smile. I could only imagine what she saw, my face glistening with her juices and my stomach white with mine, eyes half closed as I enjoyed the afterglow that came immediately.

She untied me with quick flicks, stroking my arms and legs and massaging them to ensure no pins and needles came, and laying soft kisses as she did so. I heard the "snick" of a camera and knew she was taking photos of me for her private gallery, where she recorded her conquests and kept trophies.

I cleaned up in the shower, legs still weak and trembling, smile immoveable from my face.

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"I'm sorry, my love." I whispered, my head nestled in her ample chest. She slung her arm around me and pulled me closer to her, stroking the side of my neck.

"I just wish you would trust me. I want what is best for you, for her. Have I ever gone too far? Have I ever hurt you?"

"No, Mistress," I murmured. "You wouldn't. But, Mistress?"

"Yes, my sweet?"

"May I focus only on you, please?"

She smirked down at me, promises and threats within her eyes.

"All in good time, just trust me."