by Mason, Jude
masturbate tonight." He spun around and faced her. Flushed, he replied in a small, ragged voice, "Yes ma'am." * * * * She thought she'd never get to sleep, but finally, she drifted into a dream-filled slumber. With no alarm to wake her, it was after eight when she opened her eyes. As soon as she was aware of being awake, she was excited. She checked the clock beside her pillow. Groaning, she stretched then rolled out of bed. Going towards the bathroom, she peeked into the sunroom and saw sunlight streaming through the windows. She turned and wandered into the new room. The cover lay on the windowsill where she'd placed it last night.
She smiled. He'd left that one thing undone, on purpose. Cheeky beast. He'd pay.
She showered and dried herself with a large, soft towel. Hair brushed and teeth cleaned, she was ready to dress. In her bedroom, she slipped into the leather corset she'd worn on their first weekend's punishment session. She decided on a matching, black leather thong, instead of the skirt. Stepping into the tiny panties, she shivered as they dragged up her legs. She wiggled it into place and then pulled out her boots. They'd been hiding in her closet for months, just waiting for the right occasion. Today was it. With two-inch thick soles, the six-inch heels looked impossible to walk in, but in fact were incredibly comfortable.She sat on the bed to pull them on and zip them up.
She slipped on a silky black cover-up and went into the kitchen to make coffee. The waiting was torture, but she loved every moment of it. She sipped her coffee and let her imagination run wild with visions of him being punished and submitting to her. Her hands trembled each time she raised her cup, and she smiled. She wanted him—wanted him more than she'd wanted anyone, except her Tom.
She was so lost in her thoughts, the doorbell's chime made her jump. She put her coffee cup on the table and got to her feet. It was ten, he was right on time. With her heart pounding, she went to the door. But, before she opened it, she took a deep breath, and gathered herself.
"Good morning, Caleb," she said in a surprisingly steady voice. "You're right on time. Excellent." Stepping aside, she ignored his stare. "Come in."
He slipped his sandals off and took a step inside. He'd worn loose fitting, black jogging pants and a tank top that left much of his chest bare. "Thank you, ma'am," he murmured. "I see you like this outfit as well." "Uh, yes, ma'am. I like it very much." His hands drifted to the front of his crotch, but only for a moment. He clenched his fists and forced them to his side. His erection was already huge. "Strip," she uttered the single word and waited. She saw him shudder, but he immediately pulled off his tank top and folded it. Once it lay on the nearby chair, he slid his thumbs into the waistband of his joggers and pushed them down. He bent, covering his crotch with his own body. He turned away from her when he folded them and stood wearing just a pair of light blue boxers, but only for a moment. They followed the jogging pants and he quickly tossed them on top of the small pile.
The muscles along his back twitched, his glutes tightened as he turned. Tanned flesh melted into white at his middle, a sparse thatch of wiry blonde pubic hair nestled between his thighs. His erection jutted majestically towards her, and his balls hung low in their fleshy, pale sack.
She glanced up and down, inspecting him, wanting him. "You know where my special room is. Today, you're to crawl there." She took a step closer to him, and traced an imaginary line from his left nipple to his right with her nail. A faint red line decorated his chest, and she leaned forward and kissed his left nipple. He gasped, but remained in place. "On your hands and knees," she said and stepped back. "Yes, Lady Cyn," he whispered huskily and dropped to his knees. His erection bobbed, then disappeared as he lowered himself onto his hands.
"Remember, I told you whenever you enter my room, you'll be bound in some way." "Yes, Lady Cyn, I remember." "Good, hold still." She pulled a leather lace from her pocket and bent down behind him. Reaching between his legs, she took firm hold of his penis and carefully pulled it back towards her. The outer flesh was hot, the inner core like steel in her hand. She eased her fingers up and down his shaft; drinking in the feeling of power and control he was giving her. For an instant, she thought of leaning down and kissing the tip, taking the firm round dome between her lips and sucking the luscious pearl of dew that formed at the slit. His groan was her gauge to measure his excitement, and when it came, she wound the strap just behind the crown. Tied tight enough to remain secure, but not enough to harm him, he'd know she'd bound him. He'd know he belonged to her.
When she was finished, she straightened up and gave his ass a firm slap, "Get moving." Her handprint appeared as she followed him. When he was almost at the door, she stepped around him and opened it, allowing him to enter. Before she followed him in, she slipped her coverup off her shoulders and hung it on the doorknob. "On your feet. Center of the room," she commanded sharply. Caleb climbed to his feet, and edged towards the center of the room, directly below a wooden beam that ran the full width of the room. He looked up and saw the hooks spaced every foot or so as well as a pulley directly overhead.
"Hands behind your back." She strode across the room, making sure he got a good look at her nearly naked butt, and opened the cupboard where the cuffs she wanted were stored, along with other paraphernalia. Two sets of wide leather cuffs, with two buckles, found their way into her hand. Next, she pulled out a wooden bar, approximately thirty inches long, with an eye-bolt screwed into each end.
She walked around him, the steady clicking of her heels on the hardwood floor as she paced sent her heart to beating more wildly. Reaching out, she trailed her fingers down his arm and across his back. He shivered. Continuing on, her hand encountered dampness, his sweat trickling down his ribs. She stepped in front of him, the top of her head, at his chin level. She stared at his chest. The rapid in and out of his breathing warned her that he'd hyperventilate if she didn't find some way to calm him down soon.
"Easy," she purred and laid a hand on his breast. Hot, moist flesh met her palm. "Take a deep breath and hold it." He complied, but trembled. She slid her open palm across to the other side of his chest, gently stroking him. "Let it out, and take another one." Her hand moved again, sliding lower over his stomach. "Close your eyes, just for a few moments." She lightened her caress, barely touching him, easing him into submission at a speed he could accept. "That's it, my sweet. Now, take a deep breath, easy, not gasping, just an easy breath. You know I won't hurt you. Easy. Take another. Yes, just like that."
He complied and under her hand, she felt his body lose the tenseness that she'd seen building. Her hand moved around to his hip, and then down his thigh. He shifted his weight, and muscles rippled along his haunch. She stroked, appreciating his strength, admiring his beauty.
"Be still now, at ease with me," she whispered and kissed his breast. "I'm going to cuff you. Hold your hands out in front of you, wrists together." She waited until he held his hands out in front of her, and then deftly buckled the cuffs on his wrists. "You know you've earned punishment for two weekends." "Yes, Lady Cyn," he said, his voice was little more than a whisper.
"I hope I haven't disappointed you." Surprised, she looked at his face and smiled. "No, you haven't disappointed me in the least. On the contrary, I'm extremely pleased with you."
He blinked and dared to look into her eyes. "Thank you. I..." He let whatever he was going to say trail off into nothing, and lowered his head.
"I'm not going to blindfold you this time." She walked behind him, and reached up for the chain dangling from the pulley. When she pulled, the links rattled as they fed through the pulley. She kept pulling, until she judged there was enough to clip to his cuffs. Holding the end, she went around him, clipped the cuffs together, and then snapped the end of the chain to the clip. He was secured. He breathed a huge sigh. Walking to the wall, where the pulley handle was, she felt his eyes on her. She reached for the metal handle, but before she started cranking on it, she looked over her shoulder to see if she'd been right. As expected, his eyes were fixed on her. She spread her feet apa
rt, shoulder width and swayed her ass back and forth. His eyes followed. Gripping the handle tightly, she wound it slowly to the right. His hands rose.
When she had his hands over his head, he seemed to realize how helpless he was and, for a moment, panicked. Desperately, he tugged on the chain, jerking at it. His eyes were wide with the animal like fear of being trapped.
"Caleb," she said in an even tone. He didn't at first hear her, and she repeated his name,"Caleb." He glared down at her. "Caleb!" She strode over to him and stroked his back. Sweat covered and trembling, she sensed his fear. She circled him, stroking him, soothing him. "It's all right. Talk to me. If you want me to let you go, I will. All you have to do is ask. I won't do anything you don't want me to." For a moment, she laid her cheek against his chest and inhaled his masculine scent. Then, with her eyes fixed on his and her heart beating like a drum, she blurted,"Damn the contract, I want you."
The last sentence got through to him and his glare softened. "Don't let me go," he whispered. "I…I. You know I left the cover off on purpose."
Her pulse thundered in her ears. Had she heard him right? Of course she had, but she could hardly believe it. Watching his face for reaction, she said,"I hadn't planned on letting you go." He blinked, and a smile pulled at the corners of his mouth. "And, yes, I knew you'd left the cover off on purpose." She returned to the pulley handle and finished drawing his hands up. He was left standing with his feet flat on the floor, arms overhead, and his elbows slightly bent.
"I'm going to cuff your ankles now," she said and took the second set of cuffs. Squatting in front of him, his prick was at eye level. It had softened a little from his fear, but when she nudged it with her cheek, it pulsed several times, thickening and lengthening until it reached its full size again. She looked up at him, making sure he was watching and flicked her tongue over the swollen crown. He gasped and his hips jerked in reaction.
"Like that, do you?" she teased, already knowing the answer. Her thong was driving her crazy. The band moved every time she did, rubbing against her anus, sending jolts of pleasure into her most private of places. The leather covering her sex was soaked through with her juices and the scent intoxicated her.
"Yes, Lady Cyn, I like that very much," Caleb replied and seemed more at ease, more sure of himself.
She finished buckling the cuffs snuggly around each ankle, and then pushed them apart. She thought he might fight her again, but with no hesitation at all, he slid his feet wider apart. When she was sure the bar would fit between his ankles, she grabbed hold of his leg and stopped him from spreading any further. Two clips later, his legs were held for her. Then, deftly, she unfastened the leather strap that held his erection and tossed it to the side. She had a plan for him and the lace was in the way.
She looked up at him again, and reached for his erection. The hot, tight skin was soft; the inside felt like a granite shaft. With feather-light touches, she smoothed the satin-soft flesh up and down. His groans of pleasure urged her on. The head swelled even more, its tip becoming wet with pre-come when she found his sweet spot on the underside, just below the glans. His thighs tensed and he thrust his hips forward, eager for her to continue. That's when she stopped. "Oh God, oh God," he chanted, his hips trembling with lust. Lady Cyn had one more restraint for him—a thong taken from the bodice of her corset. She stood before him to unlace it. Unfastening the bow, she pulled the foot-long lace out of the eyelets, exposing more and more of her breasts as the cups fell away. Her nipples tightened when she exposed them to the cool air. Goose bumps raced across her chest and up her neck.
She knelt in front of him, the lace in one hand, and reached beneath his erection. His testicles moved in her hand, trying to pull up close to his body. Her grasp was sure and steady, easing them down into the bottom of their sack. One end of the lace held between her teeth, her nose an inch from his prick, she wound the strip of leather around the neck of his sack. Pulled snug, hisballs were hers. Releasing the end of the strap from her mouth, she wound it around the base of his erection and tied it off— just tight enough to remind him of her will.
She stroked him, up and down his thighs. Cradling his bound testicles, she tickled the spot just behind them. All the while, he watched her, transfixed and moaning.
Tormented and teased, he was flushed and babbling by the time she went for her crop. The same twenty-one inch long instrument he'd felt before. She flicked it back and forth several times, slicing the air. Accepted once, she knew he'd accept it again.
She walked around him, sliding the crop along his thighs, flicking it playfully across his bottom. He watched her. His head turned and spun around when she moved too far behind him.
"Twenty strokes for last week's screw up." She'd give no quarter on that. He'd messed up and she would hold him accountable.
"Yes, Lady Cyn," he said softly, and after a moment added, "thank you."
She cocked her head and looked closely at his face, his body, to gauge his true reaction. As she watched, she noticed him pushing his bottom back ever so slightly. "And another ten for not finishing this week," she said and smiled. "Yes, Lady Cyn. Thank you." She stood behind him, left patch resting on the swell of his ass. Firm white flesh, eager for the coloring, she thought, and raised the crop. He tensed, but she waited. He groaned, and relaxed the muscles. She struck. His back arched and a groan whispered from his lips. Cyn rubbed the patch over his ass, spreading the small pain. Again, she raised the crop, and again she waited for him to relax before she let fly with a quick slash. The crop sank into the firm cheek. The thwack resounded through the room, and his groan was like a ballad, hummed by a lover. She alternated cheeks for the first ten; each delivered with all her strength. The next ten she administered more quickly, spreading the strokes from the top of each cheek to the crease where his leg joined his butt. After each one, she slid the patch over his ass, spreading the discomfort, and giving him just enough time to take a breath.
After every few strokes, she also touched him. She walked around him, holding the crop where he could see it, across her chest, touching a nipple; somewhere he'd be sure to look. That's when she touched him, caressed him, or pinched a nipple when he wasn't expecting it. His reactions varied, but all led her to believe he wanted more. His prick stayed hard, but she attributed that mostly to the lace she'd bound him with. She tested those bonds, making sure they didn't grow too tight, or his balls didn't become too cool, or his prick too cold. He thrust into her hand when he could, and she rewarded him by tugging on his balls. He groaned and eased his knees even further apart.
"Now, for the next ten," she said and went to stand behind him, to the right. She raised the crop and judged his breathing. She waited for him to exhale, then struck. Fast and furious, a steady barrage of strokes that didn't stop until she'd delivered all ten.
He couldn't scream, he had no breath. He couldn't escape, her bonds held him firmly in place. He had no choice but to endure. When the last stroke landed and she held the crop tight to his ass, he shuddered. Inhaling, he held his breath for long moments then exhaled. A shuddering sob joined the escaping air.
Stepping closer to him, she ran her hand over his back and ass. His muscles were hard under her hand, rigid with pain, and covered in sweat. The flesh was warm, hotter in the places she'd kissed him with the leather. She let the crop fall to the floor and caressed him with both hands. From wide shoulders, to his V-shaped back, the muscles writhed under her ministration. She moved down the slope of his lower back and his muscular, taut ass, exploring and easing him back to the present. "I haven't finished yet." Her words froze him. "What do you mean?" he asked. She didn't sense fear. It was more like confusion, the punishment should have been done, or so he must have thought. Two weeks of deadlines missed. Two sets of punishment dished out. What more could there be?
"You could have finished yesterday, am I right?" Her hands continued moving down his thighs and between his legs. She bent to kiss his lower back and inhaled the scent of his sweat and manhoo
d. She flicked her tongue out and tasted his salty flesh. "Yes, I left the cover off on purpose," he admitted. "Why?" He didn't answer. She didn't think he knew the answer, not at first. Reaching around, she gripped his erection and slowly worked the shaft in long, languid strokes. Her heart was pounding. The soft lips of her labia were swollen and her clitoris throbbed. Her excitement mirrored his.
"You were already guaranteed punishment. You knew that. So, why would you purposely leave something undone?"
He squirmed. She wasn't sure if he was trying to escape her touch or the questions she was forcing him to respond to. His prick was slick and hot. It throbbed beautifully in her fist. He groaned, and thrust his hips forward. "I didn't want it to end. I wanted this. I wanted you to do this to me." The words spilled out of him in a rush as if he'd had a revelation.
"Thank you," she kissed his back and then released him. She walked around and stood facing him. Reaching out, she unknotted the lace around his genitals and dropped the leather strap to the floor. She bent over and picked up the crop. "Now, for your final punishment. This is for not completing a task when it was perfectly within your power to do so. I'm going to use the crop on you, and you will not climax."
He stared at her, bewildered. "Not climax? What are you going to do?"
She didn't answer. Raising the crop, she waited for him to look into her eyes, and then struck. The leather patch connected with the shaft of his penis, just below the head. Although the touch was light, the shock must have been extraordinary. He gasped. His hips thrust forward. His erection careened wildly in the air and slapped against his thigh.
She waited for him to calm down, stroking his chest and lower belly. Again, she took aim, and while he gritted his teeth, she struck. He grunted, his hips twitched and droplets of sweat trickled down his face, and dripped onto his chest.
Four more times, she struck him on the shaft, and each time he lunged forward. She offered him pain, and he reveled in it. The crop was her bow, and he was her instrument. His cries of pleasure stopped her. If she'd struck again, she knew he wouldn't have been able to control the orgasm that lurked so near the surface.