by Audra Black
“I’m only doing this because I love you and I want you to become a better, stronger man,” Mistress Angelique said, as she grabbed hold of his left shoulder to either steady him or prevent him from running away. Her vise was quite strong, and that alone turned him on. He’d never been with a woman that strong before. His other ladies had all been weak-willed colleens, he would have never submitted to any of them, would have thought it unthinkable, yet with Mistress Angelique it wasn’t unthinkable, In fact, it almost felt right, in a very wrong way.
The first strike hit him squarely in the buttocks, a fine sting, but nothing he couldn’t handle.
“That was one,” Mistress Angelique said, “I want you to count the rest of them for me.”
“Yes, Mistress,” Paul said obediently.
The second stroke was harder and warmed his ass and cock all over. “Two, Mistress,” Paul counted out obediently.
Three, four, and five came so quickly, he had to count them all aloud, at once. Each one hurt like hell, and he had to grit his teeth not to cry out.
Six, seven, and eight were so intense his legs almost crumpled beneath him, he felt like his bloated cock was the only thing keeping him on his feet. It was odd how aroused he felt by this extreme pain. He was certain if the spanking continued much longer he was going to explode,
Mistress Angelique could probably tell this because she let go of his arm abruptly and said, “that’s enough for now. It’s time for my bath. You may not come until I give you permission. Do you understand? No coming or I chain your balls.”
“Yes, Mistress,” he said, though he knew it would be a struggle. The pressure was unrelenting, and unless she started doing something charitably unsexy, he didn’t know how long he could hold it in. As if reading his mind, she picked up an insane looking torture device from off the bed, “this is the ball and cock lock I was speaking of, if you do not obey me, it goes on until I leave.”
That was all it took for the pressure to relieve itself, he could feel the blood draining from his manhood. This woman was good, if she could control his erections, what else could she control? What else would he let her control?
“Now draw my bath and pour me another glass of wine. I want steaming hot water and bubbles, lots and lots of bubbles I also need shampoo, body wash and a loofah, if you don’t have any of those things you will find them in my black traveling bag, in the corner.” With that pronouncement, Mistress Angelique sank down onto the bed, crossing one naked leg elegantly over the other.
Paul quickly set about following his mistress’s demands. He found himself wanting to please her, not to prevent punishment but because he wanted her to look at him just once and smile approvingly. He didn’t know why it mattered so much to him. She was paid to be there for the weekend, once that was over she would leave and he wouldn’t see her again.
As he was pouring in the bubbles, it occurred to him to wonder, just who was paying for her time and attention. His workmates might have pitched in to pull a prank like this on him, but if there was a way to charge him he knew they would have jumped at the chance.
PAUL WASN’T SURE HOW to ask, or if he even wanted to. If she stuck him with the bill in the end, would this really be that different from any other date he’d been on? Other than this trip likely being much more expensive and intense than his other holiday trips. Surely, just the privilege of being disciplined by her was worth whatever she cost.
And Paul realized, with a start, that it was a privilege. Mistress Angelique was a true goddess! What his workmates meant for a joke had inexplicably turned into something much more - a religious experience!
“Your bath is ready, Mistress,” Paul, said standing meekly before her, gazing in awe at her enormous titties. They were large and perfectly-shaped, he wanted to reach out and squeeze them, but knew he would have to earn an honor like that.
“Did I say you could admire my body?” Mistress Angelique snapped as she rose up from the bed.
“I’m sorry, Mistress,” Paul said, casting his eyes down to the ground.
“I don’t suppose you could help yourself, could you?” Her voice softened somewhat. “Just remember I am in charge. I’m in charge of you and I’m in charge of me. Nothing happens in this house without my express permission.”
“Yes, Mistress,” Paul said, feeling small, weak, and unworthy.
Mistress Angelique entered the bathroom and Paul followed, uncertain if she wanted him to follow or remain behind. “Kneel down beside the tub and let me use you as footstool,” Mistress Angelique instructed.
Paul knelt down immediately and felt strangely excited at the prospect. No woman had ever literally stepped on him before. He was glad she had taken off her heels to get into the tub, her feet were large, her toenails painted the same purple as her hair. He almost let an “oomph” escape him as she pressed her full body weight upon him. She just stood there for a moment, digging her toes into his neck, her nails were sharp and scratched his sensitive skin.
He didn’t mind though. Paul felt whole, for possibly the first time in his life. Here was a woman using him, all of him to meet her needs, and he felt as if he’d been born for this day, for this very moment. His thinking was absurd, yet his cock and balls throbbed in agreement.
He was relieved when she finally stepped off and into the tub only because he feared if she’d remained on top for much longer he would have erupted. And he was not allowed to do that until she said so. Paul was getting used to obeying his mistress. It had felt strange at first, but now it felt as natural as breathing.
Mistress Angelique settled herself down among the bubbles. “Ahhh,” she moaned, “you did good, slut, this feels very nice. Continue kneeling where you are until I finish and when I’m through, I may decide to give you some pleasure in return.”
“Yes, Mistress,” Paul said, feeling a huge sense of accomplishment. He had done it, he actually pleased her! As a lifelong customer service rep, he had pleased a lot of people, but all of those accomplishments paled to pleasing his mistress.
Paul didn’t look at Mistress Angelique while she was in the tub, she hadn’t given permission and he didn’t want to risk the reward she had almost promised him. He wasn’t sure what the reward would entail:
Would he be allowed to touch her? Would she touch him? Would she enter inside him or let him enter inside her? He didn’t know, couldn’t know until she wanted him to. He had to shake himself a little, partly because his limbs were going numb and partly out of excitement!
He could not look, but he could hear, he heard the sound of water splashing, and the sound of a bottle being opened. He could hear fingers being run through a scalp and louder sounds of water swishing, as if huge waves were moving, he even got splashed a little in the face, as he imagined she was dunking her lovely head under water to rinse off the shampoo.
Followed by more rushing waves and water in the face, then another POP of a cap. He heard more splashing, then something new .... breathing .... heavy breathing .... deep, elegant, enchanting. Paul almost hit his head on the side of the tub when he realized what she was doing.
Mistress Angelique was pleasuring herself in the tub, he wanted to take a peek so badly but he didn’t want to lose his reward. She was panting now, steadily, in a rhythm. And if her moans were any indication she was getting close to climax. Just hearing her, the erotic sounds she was making, was forcing his cock to grow in sympathetic anticipation.
And then she was over the edge, crying out, “Oh goddess, goddess, yesss!”
Poor Paul had to hold his breath until the desperate burning in his throat convinced his mini tool to go back down. He almost passed out. His whole body was quivering with unmet need, impotent rage, and desire.
Why was he doing this to himself? Mistress Angelique held no power over him other than the power he gave her, so why had he allowed her so much power over him? He’d only known her for a few hours now. It was ridiculous, the depths he was willing to go to just to please her.
He needed to say no, needed to put a stop to this. This just wasn’t like him. None of it was. And he was terrified what would become of him if he carried on like a submissive poodle for very much longer.
Then he felt her foot on his backside, once again, and all rational indignation fled him. He was hers to play with and use however she wished. He was putty in her hands, he was her footstool, and whatever type of human furniture she wished him to be.
MISTRESS ANGELIQUE was sopping wet, of course, and she dripped down on him. Onto his head, down his neck and into his shirt. Considering what she had just been doing, Paul sort of hoped that some of it wasn’t water. He stuck out his tongue to capture a few of the errant drops that were running down his face. To his disappointment all he tasted was water.
“Ahem. Did you forget something?” Mistress Angelique demanded.
Paul’s mind was a bit overloaded with all the sensations he was feeling, Mistress Angelique’s squeaky clean feet, and long scratchy nails. The water running, cascading down and soaking his back. Not to mention, having to concentrate to balance just right so his mistress didn’t tumble off his back.
“I’m sorry, Mistress,” he said meekly. “What have I forgotten?”
“A towel, you fool. How am I supposed to dry myself without one? Oh well, guess I’ll just have to use you.”
Before Paul could decipher exactly what she meant by that, Mistress Angelique had stepped off of him and was grabbing for his t-shirt. She didn’t need his help getting it off him, which was impressive if not a little bewildering.
Then Mistress Angelique used the portion that were still dry to dry herself. Paul watched her with fascination as he stood there shivering without his shirt on. “I need your underpants and trousers, too,” Mistress ordered, quickly yanking on them both and tugging them off him. He did help a little by moving his feet, but other than that she removed his clothes totally on her own.
Paul couldn’t recall a time when the removing of his clothes had ever turned him on this much. Mistress Angelique used his trousers on her hair - he was glad he’d put a fresh pair on after work - and his underpants she sniffed thoroughly - they also were fresh, as he had taken a shower just an hour before she’d arrived.
Then she tossed them on the floor and stepped on them, using his underwear as a towel to wipe off her feet. It turned him on the most when she wriggled her toes down into his underwear folds to dry them.
Once she was dry, she ordered Paul to clean up her mess then to join him on the bed.
“Do not get redressed, I have plans for you that require your nakedness.”
“Yes, Mistress,” Paul said as he eagerly picked up his clothes that she had thrown on the floor and trampled over as she left the bathroom. Paul always felt a little thrill when she did that. He didn’t understand why nor could he remember this ever being a thing for him before. Maybe it wasn’t the act, maybe it was just her - maybe it was just the way she walked, the way she trampled, the way she breathed that got to him and to his dick.
Either way, Paul felt he would pay good money just to have her trample over every item that he owned.
Once his mistress’s mess was cleaned up, Paul joined her in the bedroom. She was holding a long black baton in her hand and for a moment he thought she was going to spank him again.
“I am going to fuck you with this baton, slut,” Mistress Angelique informed him. “Would you like that? Would you like a chance to come all over this filthy, filthy instrument.”
“Yes, Mistress,” Paul said, although he had never been fucked like that before. He had a perfectly good instrument of his own, after all. Anal play wasn’t something any of his previous girlfriends were into to, and before that moment, he would have said he wasn’t into it, either.
“That’s a good slut,” Mistress Angelique cooed, “Now bend over the bed and spread your legs for me.”
Paul did as instructed. His stomach tightened and knotted and his cock tentatively stood to attention.
He felt her hands on his ass, first. Her firm, magical hands. She squeezed and pinched, patted and slapped his butt cheeks, causing very pleasing warming feeling. Then he felt something cold and slimy being applied inside his hole. That didn’t feel good, at first. It felt invasive and uncomfortable, but he trusted his mistress to not do anything that would truly harm him.
“Quit tensing up,” Mistress Angelique snapped, cracking him on the backside with her baton.
Pain radiated up his spine and he couldn’t stop himself from crying out in momentary anguish. Afterwards, he did his best to relax and quit tensing even though his backside was still on fire.
“That’s better, this won’t hurt you, slut. Not if you obey me.”
“I will obey you, Mistress,” Paul said through a twinge as the tip of the baton was first slid into his hole. It took a few tries of her deftly sliding the baton in a little at a time, then sliding it back out. Then in and out again. She did this several times and WOW, did it feel good!
Paul couldn’t have imagined the pleasurable sensations he experienced, once the initial stretching concluded, plus, he hadn’t know his ass could expand like that. Before he knew it she was shoving that baton so far in, he though he could feel her elbow. Of course that could just have been the baton, it was difficult to tell how large it really was, he only knew that it felt big. Like bigger than the biggest dick and Paul had a pretty big dick.
Beyond that, she touched something inside of him that he felt also fill and begin to expand like a balloon. A hot balloon full of come, a balloon that wanted very badly to explode. One he wasn’t sure he could control much longer.
“Mistress,” he begged, “May I come?’
Begging like that made him feel more humiliated than he’d felt all evening. It simply wasn’t a manly thing to do, but the pressure was becoming too painful, and he truly believed he couldn’t hold it in any longer. And as badly as he felt right then, disappointing Mistress Angelique by disobeying her would hurt even worse than this did.
“You want to come, my slut?” Mistress Angelique asked.
“Yes, please, Mistress,” Paul beseeched her through agonizing breaths.
“Very well,” Mistress Angelique tapped his ass with her baton, “come now on this baton.”
And Paul let loose with volcanic-like strength, his entire body pulsing and convulsing with oceans of pleasure which he had never experienced before. It was so pleasurable it hurt and so painful it was pleasurable. When it was over he felt deflated like he’d just run the world’s longest marathon.
He collapsed down onto the bed, barely able to crawl up onto it, before collapsing into a crumpled wreck of a heap. Mistress Angelique sank down onto the bed beside him, petting his head, running gentle fingers through his hair.
“There, there, my slut. I have exhausted you. I’ll allow you a short rest before I have need of you again.”
“Thank you, Mistress,” Paul croaked, Sex didn’t usually take this much out of him, but he figured with all she’d put him through, all of the teasing and denying, plus, her magical sexual prowess that he’d been through at least five sexual encounters in one.
Paul was so exhausted that he fell asleep, he awoke when he felt something sharp sting him in his ear. He sat bolt upright, in confusion, covering the stinging portion of his ear.
He looked to his left and saw Mistress Angelique showing off a bloody scratched finger to him. “Look what your ear did to my finger, slut. Suck it clean and say you’re sorry.”
Paul was wide awake now.
“I’m Sorry Mistress,” he said, before taking her bloody finger in his mouth and sucking his blood gently from it. Her finger tasted divinely and little Paul was quite excited to finally get to touch her.
Mistress Angelique ordered him to open his mouth and then she inserted two fingers, Paul greedily sucked on them, then opened his mouth and drew them out slowly, before pulling them back in again.
He repeated his oral finger fucking of Mistress Angelique’s ha
nd and was rewarded by a soft moan from her delectable mouth. His penis was so overjoyed at being able to please her that it squirted out its own joyful cry.
“You have a most talented mouth, my slut. Come here and see what you can do on my pussy.” She removed her fingers from between his lips and guided him, head down first until his mouth was between her long luscious legs. She had put on a new pair of nylons, which she’d rolled down to stop at her thighs.
She was lying back on his pillows and she guided his head towards her neatly trimmed goddess mound. His lips eagerly parted to consume her flower, parting her lips so he could lick deep into her depths.
All the while Mistress Angelique moaned and sighed and ran her hands viciously through his hair, she pulled out a few, he was sure, but he didn’t mind. What was a little pain when he was face-first in the inner sanctum of the goddess?
He licked and suckled her insides through the initial wetness, while she ran her fingernails down his shoulders and his back, her nails leaving deep scratches, but still he didn’t care. He kept licking and teasing and drinking her natural juices until he felt her begin to quiver and quake and before he knew it, the most delightful, heavenly, female nectar was running down his throat, running down his face and his neck.
She pushed him away then and Paul began to lap up the overflow which had spilled onto the bedspread.
“You are a more talented slut than I gave you credit for,” Mistress Angelique praised, beaming down at him with affection.
“Thank you, Mistress,” Paul said, filling with pride and joy.
“Don’t go getting cocky on me, slut,” Mistress Angelique said sharply, giving Paul a shove. Go kneel on the floor by the lamp and let me sit on your back while I trim my nails.”
Paul quickly obeyed, kneeling on the floor beside the table lamp and the rubbish bin. Mistress Angelique sat astride on his back, her legs on either side of his head, which meant his head was brushing against her pussy.