With a flick of her wrist, she lashed out with the leash again, delighted to see that she had managed to make an opposing stripe on his other thigh.
Michael groaned and tried to pull away, but she kept a firm grip on his hair so that she could stare into his eyes.
“Do you really think it’s acceptable to demolish everything in your path, throw tenants out of buildings, pull down schools and churches to build exclusive apartments for the wealthy? Is there no end to your need to acquire everything in your path?”
Michael swallowed, his Adam’s apple rising and falling. “I have to. It’s what drives me.”
Nella released his hair, wound the end of her leash around her hand, shortening it, drawing him closer like a guilty dog so that his face was inches from hers. “But it doesn’t matter how much you have, it’s never enough. You disgust me.” The heat of an orgasm built inside her as she observed him, the sweat beading on the temples of this handsome man as he worked through his demons. This wonderful, powerful husband, this exquisite masculine presence was burning up with painful pleasure as she humiliated him. Her clit was swelling and she could smell her own arousal. So close now.
“Punish me, Mistress. Make me pay.”
She slapped his face.
He gasped. A dark stain crossed his cheek where she’d hit him. It flooded his neckline and his arm muscles bulged as he fought for control, his breath rasping in and out.
Thrilled, her nipples peaked, hard with longing. A drop of pre-cum glistened on top of his cock. Tonight he was drawing his punishment out, enjoying it as much as she savoured giving it. Aching with desire, Nella ran her hand over his rib cage.
She locked eyes with his, lifted her hand and slapped his other cheek. “You went too far with your greed. Today I heard you’ve bought the shopping centre near Spit Junction. You couldn’t stay out of Mosman, as ordered. Do you really think your modern glass and steel monstrosities have a place in this lovely, refined area?”
“How did you find out?” Wariness mixed with respect tinged his expression.
“You cannot hide anything from me. You are going to learn not to break my rules.” The pleasure of him breaking before her eyes made her pussy lips swell. Soon that sensual mouth would be licking her, savouring her, serving her every need. Reaching out, she twisted his other nipple; both sides of his body should match. Order, after all, was everything to her.
He grimaced, but his cock was still swollen with need. God, she wanted him.
His whole body shook. “Please. Show me forgiveness.”
“Forgive you? Impossible. But you may do penance. Lie on the floor like the pathetic animal you are.”
She stepped down from the padded bench, knelt either side of his head, stopping momentarily to appreciate his handsome face with its patrician looks: his deep-set, chocolate-coloured eyes, straight, long nose and full, sensuous lips, so like a sculpture. She lowered herself down. Gripping his thick hair, she knelt, her knees either side of his ears so she could watch his grateful expression as he licked her. There was nothing but trust shining back at her. “Start.”
His pink tongue snaked out and circled around her clit.
She rolled her hips, keeping the rhythm low, relishing the heat as the pleasure built. With her fingers tight on his hair, her position was like riding a horse. She could see her mons moving as she ground herself into his face. He kept circling around the sensitive bud until the pressure built inside her. She pulled his hair in jerky tugs, and he changed direction, this time licking up and down over her clitoris, just how she enjoyed it.
A long sigh of pleasure filled the air as she moved over him.
The intensity of it made her crave him deep inside her so she tightened her hold on his hair and pressed his head down. Moving her hips up slightly, she felt him straighten his tongue as he had been trained to do, and she impaled herself onto it. Michael had a long, strong tongue, which she rode with vigour, her breasts jiggling as she enjoyed the slippery sensation and the play of the tip of his tongue inside her. The first tremor of orgasm tingled deep. Too early to come. She changed her hand position to each side of his temples and gripped his hair.
He knew to withdraw his tongue and made long sweeping licks, right from the base of her pussy up along her slit until he reached the hood of her clitoris. She was so sensitive, her clit and inner lips swollen. She rocked over him in long, slow movements, building her pace. Tiny shudders of orgasm worked their way up the small of her back and over her clit. It was as if nothing in the world existed anymore except this. Her nipples were tight and aching to be pinched but she didn’t dare release her hold on Michael. He’d be lost without her direction, like a horse without a rider.
Inside the house, she controlled his every movement, making him lie on the uncomfortable floor while she dominated him, taught him his place. No one would ever guess that this captain of industry was her sex slave, forced to do her bidding at every turn. On looking behind her she saw that he was still thick and hard, his balls drawn up and tight. Yet he never complained or demanded his turn. To do so would have brought on more punishment and already he was a sea of well-placed matching bruises. Beautifully striped red, green and blue patterns; all her own clever handiwork.
The perfection of it gave her a rush. She arched her back and ground her clit into his mouth. He sucked it in and worked over the bud. A cry left her lips as her orgasm flared across her pussy before rushing up her spine. Taking in a deep breath, she screamed as another orgasm followed hot on the first. When it subsided she lifted herself off him, determined to prolong the high. What she needed now was to ram herself down on his thick, hard cock.
He gave her a small smile and it made her want to slap the superiority from his well-bred face. His eyes gleamed as if he knew he was the only one who could get her off so easily. It was his way of teasing her, daring her, pushing her further. She’d punish him for it, but right now all she could think about was cock. With a hedonistic thrill, she lowered herself onto it, relishing the way he filled and stretched her. There never could be another man for her but him. He was made for her. She rose up before sinking down again, increasing the rhythm. Leaning forward, she licked her come off his face. “Move. Fill me the way I like it.”
He gripped her hips, thrusting up into her while she nibbled and kissed his lips. Another orgasm built inside her but she wasn’t quite ready. Instead, she pulled back from his mouth, her nostrils filled with her own musky scent, and pushed herself off him.
His jaw tightened as he was forced to stop. “Mistress, please. I’m begging you.”
“You’ve served me well tonight. Take me from behind.” Nella climbed onto her padded bench. She leaned forward with her elbows resting on the windowsill of the cupola, looking out at the latest monument to the Pouache wealth. Her husband had financed this one on his own, hiring one of the world’s best architects. It was a testament to his power. A magnificent erection to watch while he took her with his own.
“Do you like what you see, Mistress?” Michael climbed to his feet, stood behind her—his hands gripping her hips—and thrust himself into her.
Nella grunted as he filled her, looked over her shoulder and raised an eyebrow. She knew he meant the hideous building. “Always.” She meant him. He ground himself into her, building his pace until her cheek was pressed against the glass.
The giant P of the Pouache sign blinked on and off, the deep neon blue flashing before her eyes. One thing about training her pet, he knew just where to thrust. This time, her orgasm built deep inside, roared up her spine and exploded in her mind, the blinking P of the sign shooting like fireworks as her eyelids shuttered. Her fingernails bit into the wood as her whole body shuddered her release. She clenched down hard on him, bucking and writhing, taking in all of him until the climax faded.
His fingers gripped her hips, keeping her in position until his breathing became ragged.
“Stop. I forbid you to come.”
“Mistress, please. I beg
you.” His body trembled with longing.
“You come and I’ll punish you.” She could sense his yearning, his desperate desire, and she enjoyed every minute of it—couldn’t bear for this special time to end.
For a long moment, she clenched onto him before releasing him from her body. Life without Michael would be a blank screen.
She turned and put her arms around the back of his neck and drew him close. “You have served me well, pet.”
“I am honoured, Mistress,” he said, as he helped her down from her bench so that she didn’t trip in her high stilettos. Love for her shone from his eyes.
Nella gave him a smile and stroked his check. “I know pet. Let’s end this play and have a shower. I feel a need to warm my bones. This cupola is cold at night, and I have a special treat in store for you.”
In their bedroom, Michael turned on the double shower taps and slipped under the steady stream of water. When the spray hit his stripe marks and the new bruises on his thighs, he braced. On closing his eyes, he absorbed the pain, breathing it through him, proud that he could take his wife’s carefully ministered strokes. There was nothing more satisfying than when Nella took charge, and she had never let him down. For him, she was the perfect Domme; the woman who’d rescued him from a lifetime of misery after his first wife had died in a car accident. It was the only time of the week when he didn’t have to make a decision. He took the soap from the soap holder and washed under his arms, taking care to stroke over his bruising, before his hands moved down to his aching cock and balls. This had been a particularly difficult workout in that he’d been so desperate to come and yet Nella had judged it so that he had hovered on the brink, his cock hard, his balls tight. Oh God, he loved serving her and seeing her pleasure. Her happiness was his whole heart. Knowing he had done well drained every iota of stress that had built up during the week. Only Nella’s delectable dominance relaxed him. The punishment she inflicted with tender care was the most exquisite torture. He deserved every lash, every blow and every slap and she never got it wrong. He let out a deep sigh of contentment.
Nella opened the screen door and joined him in the shower. “Should I rub some salve into your bruises?”
“No. I want the marks to last as long as possible, seeing as I’m away from you. Are you sure you can’t come to New York with me?”
Picking up a bottle of liquid soap, she poured some into her hand. “I can’t leave. It’s my turn to host the Double D dinner.”
Michael took the bottle from her, filled his own hand with the scent she favoured, turned her around and soaped her back. His wife had kept herself slim as the day he’d met her; despite having one child, she still had her firm double D breasts. He grinned as he thought what Double D symbolised for him. “Ah, the power women dinner. What’s the latest?”
“Young Camilla is still having trouble fitting in. I’m going to get Sienna to look after her tomorrow.”
“Good idea. How’s Virginia doing after the divorce announcement?” He picked up a bottle of shampoo and washed his hair.
“I think she was ashamed that he left her, poor darling.
She took his cock and washed all along it. “Sienna will be here tomorrow.”
“Damn. I’ll miss Sienna’s visit. I’ve been meaning to talk to her about that ridiculous idea she has of doing a reality TV show.” The mention of his daughter’s name sobered him. Sienna needed to get down and do something serious with her life. “Couldn’t you have scheduled a family brunch? My plane doesn’t leave until six.” He followed the shampoo with the conditioner.
“I don’t have time. I need to supervise the staff for the dinner. I have a new lobster tortellini recipe I want the chef to make. Plus the Wagyu beef chef ordered from the Megalong Valley didn’t arrive yesterday.” Nella took the liquid soap and filled her hand with it.
“Sounds delicious. Sorry I’m missing it.”
“You’re not invited. You know it’s girls only.”
“For that food I’d put on a dress.”
Nella narrowed her crystal blue eyes and her whole body stiffened. “You are such a glutton. Don’t you overeat in New York. I don’t want a fat husband. You really need to be taught a ‘lesson’. Spread your arse cheeks.”
“Mistress, please no. Not that. Do anything you like to me, but not that.” His wife knew this was the deepest humiliation he could suffer, the one that pushed him to the edge. Still he trusted her, and his safe word, “Kerri”—the name of his late wife—remained buried deep like the memory of his terrible first marriage, with no threat of being spoken. A man’s arsehole wasn’t clean like a woman’s, no matter how well it was washed. He didn’t want Nella to go there but he knew it pleased her and that was everything to him. Playtime was the highlight of his week, and with all his work commitments their playtime together was precious.
“Do it.”
With a groan he did as he was told. Already his cock had filled with blood as the thought of further humiliation aroused him. Still, couldn’t Nella find another way to punish him for his greed?
She spread lubricant on her fingers, after washing every crease, then forced them into his reluctant crevice.
He clenched, trying to stop her fingers entering him, but she pried him open, sliding her fingers inside, rubbing lube all around the creases, until finally moving out to cup his balls. Now that he liked. Michael closed his eyes and relaxed. She could fondle his balls all day. She was never rough with the crown jewels. There were certain rules within their play and she never broke them.
“You can turn off the taps now. I’ve finished preparing you.” Nella pushed her wet hair from her eyes.
“Yes Mistress.” Trepidation rose up his spine, mixed with excitement. She had something special in mind and he was determined to be worthy. Michael stepped out of the shower. He took his towel and dried himself. “Please understand, Mistress, there were enough blokes at boarding school who wanted to help themselves to my arse and I never let them. Glad I didn’t, seeing as I do business with them now.”
Nella towelled herself off, unsmiling. “No one has the right to touch you. You belong to me.”
“Yes, Mistress. Your words bring me great happiness.” Throughout their long marriage he’d never been tempted to stray. No one understood him like his wife. He hung up his towel.
Nella did the same and followed him into the bedroom. She opened the top drawer of the dresser. “Get on all fours.” To the uninitiated, the paddle she selected looked like a small cheeseboard with a long carved handle. Two cut-out heart shapes decorated the middle.
What a perfect way to finish the evening. Nella sometimes used this when he was going away, to leave heart-shaped bruises on his rump to remind him of her love. Thank goodness for flat beds in first class; he climbed onto all fours. He’d have a fabulous sleep all the way until he changed planes at Dallas.
She stood just to the side of him and hit hard, close enough to the spine to intensify the pain.
“Hell,” he shouted, steadying himself for further blows. As she laid on several more, he realised he must have her on the edge of her control; she wasn’t rubbing the skin when the paddle had landed to spread the burn, a sensation that really got him off. Pity.
“Bend your elbows and rest your head on your hands.” She nudged him between his knees with her toes. “Widen your legs.”
His butt cheeks were pleasantly stinging and he could feel his balls tightening as she fondled them just the way he liked her to. He watched over his shoulder as she put the paddle back in the drawer, wondering what she had planned for him. The pulsing bruises helped every bit of tension ease from his body. His beautiful Nella really knew how to relax him. He hoped she’d let him take her again, because he wouldn’t be seeing her for a week. When she turned from the dresser with her hands empty, a twinge of disappointment made him bite back a sigh. Was that the end of their play tonight?
“Close your eyes.”
Perhaps not. Thrilled, he wished it were permissib
le to grip her ankles and kiss her feet, but he stayed in position. Her eyes had changed colour to glacier blue. No one did role-play better than Nella. He did as she requested and closed his eyes, ears straining with anticipation as he wondered what she’d do next. Nella could be incredibly creative and his heart bloomed with love for this incredibly complex woman. He could feel her attaching cuffs to both hands. He heard her kneel behind him and something hard, like a rod, pressed against the back of his thighs in line with his balls. A thread of nervousness spread up his spine. What the hell was his wife doing? Her warm hands fondled his ball sack, pulling it gently away from his body, and something clamped around his balls, stretching the skin where it attached to his body. He tried to straighten, but he couldn’t because whatever it was was also attached to the bar behind his thighs. He’d have to rip his own testicles off if he wanted to stand.
“You were slow to obey my command to get on your knees before, so it’s time for some retraining. Welcome to the humbler. You may open your eyes.”
His eyes snapped open and he turned as much as he could. It was impossible to see so he crawled on all fours to look in the mirror on the wardrobe wall. “What the hell?” It looked like a double-sided coat hanger that pinned his ball sack just above his balls. He raised his gaze to Nella, trusting her not to injure him, yet knowing she’d just taken punishment to a new level. Part of him was terrified because he wasn’t sure what she had planned for him. Sure, she could inflict pain, but psychological torture was her forte. Just the thought made his cock swell with need. God, he loved this woman.
She moved behind him so that he had difficulty making eye contact, and ran her fingers lightly over his spine. “When you go to New York you are not to eat anything rich or fatty.”
Secret Confessions: Sydney Housewives - Extended Edition Page 10