by Nikki Sex
“Do you want to touch me, slave?”
“Yes, Mistress.”
“If you’re good, maybe I’ll allow it. Later.”
Oh! I feel pretty clever. That was a very Dominatrix kind of thing to say. I can see the attraction to such control over another. It’s intoxicating. I feel almost drunk with power. Hmm. Interesting. Maybe I can do this.
My palms glide along his thighs and I return to the front of him. I play with his balls and his cock at my leisure. With an almost clinical interest, I run my finger around the head. I wet my index finger with my saliva and tease the hole. There’s so much to look at and to touch with a man’s genitals.
There’s no hurry. I take my time and I really examine every part of his penis. I’ve actually never done this before. It’s strange how much experience I’ve had with Paul’s cock rubbing all over me and entering my body in various ways, yet this part of him is still so new. So alien.
I feel the different textures and firmness of each part. I trace the veins, enjoy the spongy head and where it connects to the shaft. I move the skin around. It’s magical how big and hard it gets.
A full throated groan is suddenly cut off. The moment Paul became aware of it, he stopped the sound. It’s very flattering, but not what I want.
“Don’t stop any noise you make, slave. I want to hear you. It pleases your Mistress to know that you are affected by me.”
For a moment his eyes meet mine in surprise and then they quickly lower. “Yes, Mistress,” he says.
“That’s right,” I say. “Keep those eyes down. You don’t have permission to look at me.”
“Yes, Mistress.”
I want to sing with joy! I can do this. I’m channeling Paul, somehow. I treat him the way he treats me.
Exploring him further, I play with his balls for a while. I feel each one, they’re in a sack. It’s so bizarre how they move on their own. For fun I lick them and suck one, then the other into my mouth.
Paul bites off a curse and makes a sound between a grunt and a groan between his ragged breaths. I love how I affect him.
His balls tighten under my hands, another fascinating phenomena. This ability to loosen and tighten is so odd. More skin to play with. His testicles differ in color, texture and so many other ways from the rest of him.
A man’s balls are interesting. Seriously. But nowhere near as captivating as a man’s penis. I wish I could have a cock for a day or maybe a week. I’d love to know how it feels.
A penis is so different from anything that women have. I’m thoroughly enjoying my exploration. My obedient slave now gasps and moans loudly. His eyelashes lower, when he shuts his eyes and grits his teeth. His dick reacts too, moving or jumping occasionally. I’m loving this.
Talk about penis envy. Guilty as charged. I just love me some penis. I don’t care if I don’t have one personally, as long as I can get the use of one on a regular basis. Specifically the use of Paul’s gorgeous cock.
I tease the areas that are most sensitive. Especially the elastic band of tissue on the underside of his cock, right where the head connects to the shaft. I’ve read that this part is called the frenulum. It’s seems especially sensitive.
God, I really enjoy rubbing that area and watching his body respond. His pre-cum gathers and drips. My mouth waters.
“Do you want me to suck your cock, slave?” I ask, while already knowing the obvious answer.
“Yes, Mistress.”
“We’ll see if you deserve it later,” I say.
I feel the tension in his body. His dick is so swollen it looks like it’s going to explode. Poor thing. I take pity on him, mainly because I want a taste of him probably as much as he wants me to taste. Well, probably not quite as much.
“One… two… three,” I say. “Okay. It’s later. I want a taste.”
I twirl my tongue around, enjoying his salty flavor and the needy, hungry sounds he makes. I suck and lick and then I stop.
That’s all he gets.
By the time I’ve touched every part of my slave, I’m massively horny. My breathing is almost as ragged as his. The savage desire to take Paul, to use him, to possess him almost overwhelms me.
Is this what he feels when he sees me? How does he stand it? It’s such an elemental force that I can’t deny.
I want to fuck him. Right now.
“Open,” I say in a low dark voice that is not my own. I remove the cane from his mouth. I place it on the coffee table. “Undress me, slave,” I say.
Paul takes extra care and deferential treatment to remove my clothes. I have to pay attention to my headspace, because in this he’s doing something to me. It’s so easy for me to fall into submission. It’s natural, a pattern that I’m used to. But I don’t want to waste the incredible opportunity that he’s given me.
“Good boy,” I say, just trying the word out. Is that what I should call him? I’m struck by a thought. Paul loves his motorcycle and Harley-Davidsons are called ‘Hogs.’ He calls me rabbit, perhaps I should call him piggy? I smile to myself.
“I’m thinking of calling you ‘piggy,’” I say. Paul flinches at this before he can school his face and I laugh to myself. “No, I won’t call you piggy. I think I’ll call you biker boy.”
“Yes, Mistress.”
“Now get onto the bed on your back, biker boy and wait for me.” He hurries off to do as I say.
I fortify myself with another glass of wine. I’ve had a few intense moments there where I felt like a real Mistress. This is definitely fun. The problem is that dominating him requires me to think. It doesn’t come naturally like submission does.
When I enter our bedroom, Paul is exactly where he’s meant to be. I gather restraints and tie him spread eagle.
He’s still very erect and I just want to come. I find myself astride him, my palms pressed to his chest, his jutting cock nudging my sex.
“Look at me, slave,” I whisper. “Don’t look away.”
Our eyes lock. I watch his darken.
I lower myself on to him, taking him in slowly, slowly. He always seems so deep when we’re in this position. When he’s all of the way inside of me, I stop and don’t move.
“Tell me, biker boy, why are you my submissive tonight?” I say with as steady a voice as I can manage.
Paul groans. “I wanted to show you how I feel, Mistress. Not just tell you.”
I move up and down a few times, squeezing his cock as a reward. He makes a strangled sound while his body arches toward me, as much as he can anyway, while bound to the bed. But that’s all he gets for now.
“You’ve shown me how you feel, biker boy,” I say. “I saw you on your knees, submissive to me. Now I want you to tell me what you mean by it.”
There’s an agonizingly pained look to Paul’s expression. He’s holding back a climax and it isn’t easy. This is the first time that I’ve realized how hard it is to be the one in control. I seriously want to but can’t allow myself to climax yet either.
Controlling myself makes it easier to dominate him. I realize just how much self-control a good dominant needs.
Paul’s hazel eyes remain on mine. “There is no other woman for me, Mistress. There never will be. When I was dying, I thought of only you. You were right not to believe in me – I was the one holding back. I’ve never given myself fully to you before. No wonder you couldn’t trust me. But I hope that you’ll trust me now. You’re the only one I feel safe with. You are home to me, my soft place to fall. You are the only one I’ll ever give up control to. I give in. I surrender. I submit, but only to you rabbit, only to you.”
Those intense emotions that I’d had earlier blast through me once more, thrilling my senses and overwhelming me completely.
Those tears of mine start up again, pouring from my eyes. I never understood that I was stuck. Trapped. But with his act of submission and these few words, my love has set me free.
What he said is such a validation. I wasn’t being silly or emotional. Subconsciously, I kne
w. I was right to hold back from Paul – because he was holding back from me.
I feel like I’ll explode with happiness. That powerful and profound joy of knowing, just knowing. I wasn’t crazy. And now he’s mine in every way.
Paul gave himself to me.
I’m desperate to kiss him so I dive in, plundering his mouth using my tongue and teeth. I bite his bottom lip, pulling on it gently. But then I return to just kissing, kissing, passionately kissing, while running my hands through his hair and touching his face. I take everything I want and need from him. I give him everything he wants and needs.
All the while, I move on him, grind into him and ride him. My pulse races and my chest heaves raggedly. I can’t stop these tears.
I don’t want to anyway.
Paul is beautiful beneath me and within me, straining for release. I love his tousled brown hair, the firm set of his jaw, the desire in his expression and the hunger in his dark eyes. His fists clench tight as he pulls against his restraints. He’s desperate to touch me.
I rise up and down, up and down on him. I arch my back and feel him stroking me inside.
The sound of harsh sobs fill the room. They come from me. I’m so happy and I’m on the edge of orgasm.
“Come now,” I moan, working him with strong, steady thrusts. “I want to feel your cock swell and jerk inside of me. I want to feel you fill me with cum.”
Paul thrusts upward as much as he’s able.
I crash up and down on him, deep, so deep.
I see, feel and hear when he comes, when we joyously cry out each other’s names. Tremors crash through me as we go over together. My sex clamps him repeatedly and rhythmically as we both find release.
~~~
Later when we’re in each other’s arms, I realize that I enjoyed dominating my Master. It isn’t really my ‘thing,’ but it was certainly fun for a change. Freely exploring his body was a rush.
I wonder if he’ll ever submit to me again? Of course Paul has to sleep sometime… and once I get the cuffs on him… I giggle over that thought. Teasing him is such fun.
“What’s so funny, rabbit?” he asks.
“Oh, I’m just thinking about the future.” That’s no lie. Our future together holds lots of promise.
He gives me a look. Man, he knows me so well! Paul is aware that I’ve got something planned. We don’t keep secrets per se, but we do like surprises.
“Huh,” he says, knowing I’m thinking up some mischief and leaving it at that. He takes a deep breath. I can see that he’s got something on his mind. He’s been working up to telling me. Good sub that I am, I wait for him to start.
“So, I had a couple of talks with André,” he begins. “You know, because of your trust issues with me.” He gives me an unreadable look. “André has a very high opinion of you, did you know that?”
“No, really?” I say, startled. My heart flutters with pleasure. I have the highest respect possible for André Chevalier. I don’t think Paul and I would be together if it wasn’t for him. It’s surprising and flattering to think that the exceptionally wise, insightful and unique French Dom likes me.
“Well he does.”
“Does that make you jealous?”
“Yes. No.” He sighs heavily. “Maybe.” He runs a warm palm along my arm. “André said that you and I were unconsciously fighting a hidden battle. But he didn’t explain what the battle was. He told me that you were right to doubt me and he left me with a riddle, ‘What would have to happen for you to give yourself to Emily completely?’”
I smile and stroke a hand through his hair. “I bet that drove you nuts.”
“You have no idea.”
I giggle and Paul squeezes me and pulls me closer. I hear the steady thump, thump, thump of his heartbeat in my ear. It’s so soothing.
“So when I was lying there, looking up at the stars and bleeding to death, it suddenly came to me. I was powerless. Totally helpless. I had no control but I was still me. I thought about how control seemed essential to who I am. That belief was wrong. I can still be the man that I consider myself to be, without always being in control.”
My eyes are on him, but Paul looks far away. It feels like he’s back there in the moment before death. My heart somersaults and for a moment my breath catches as I recall how I nearly lost him.
“Emily, the thing is, once I got past the pain, the dying part was peaceful. I could see everything much more clearly. It was an altered state of consciousness. I viewed the world differently. Maybe as it really is. It was as if I suddenly saw – not with my eyes – but with my heart and soul.”
I don’t know how to respond, so I just rub his chest. Besides, he still has that faraway look.
Paul’s gaze turns to me then. His mind is focused on what he wants to tell me. This is important to him, so I pay attention.
“André said that it is not the desire to have power or to be powerless that’s the problem,” he explains. “I should be able to be in control or not be in control, as is suitable for the situation. He said inflexibility is a form of madness. To always be angry, or to always be happy are equally nuts. A person has to be able to change with the circumstance.”
Paul lovingly strokes my face. “By submitting to you I wanted to prove my love and my fidelity. Instead a part of me really let go. That irrational part that had to always be in control. My surrender is not only a gift to you, it’s also a gift for myself. I’ve never given up control to another person. In my heart, I’ve never trusted anyone. Crazy, I know. You’ve changed me, Em. But it took almost dying before I realized this. I was so sad to think that I’d die and never get the chance to tell you.”
Our eyes meet. “Tell me what?”
“That I don’t only love you, rabbit. I trust you completely. You’re the only one I ever truly have.”
Epilogue
“The success of a marriage is directly proportional to the distance from the in-laws.”
– Paul Jarman
~~~
PAUL
Here we are walking in the door, home again. Home sweet home. November in Oregon is wet and freezing, so I immediately turn the heat on high. Emily and I are happily married and just back from our honeymoon in Hawaii.
Thank God it’s over.
The wedding, not the honeymoon.
A honeymoon makes perfect sense to me. Newlyweds are supposed to go off together and have sex day and night for a couple of weeks. This is a tradition I can fully throw my support behind. But the wedding? Not so much.
I don’t understand why some people divorce and remarry. Who would want to go through that ordeal more than once? Emily was stressed out of her brain the whole time, before, during and after the wedding.
Thanks to my time in the hospital, she had to rebook everything, print and resend invitations. Then she worried about how many people RSVP'd. "We only have catering for two hundred and fifty, but two hundred and seventy have RSVP'd that they’re coming!" she’d wail.
Party favors are a bizarre thing to worry about. Apparently everybody who comes has to get a gift. What for? They’re getting free food and drink already. What else do they want?
Of course, deciding where everybody is supposed to sit is another big problem. If it was up to me they can stand for all I care, or at least sit wherever they want. Apparently you can’t do that.
The bridal shower is another odd thing to stress about. Only women can worry about stuff like that, I swear. Emily was given pink fluffy handcuffs as a joke. Cute, but not sturdy enough for proper restraint. Her girlfriends have no idea what we get up to.
She had a good time so the bridal shower was a good idea. There was also the Bachelorette Party. Again, a good plan. Another reason to drink and let loose with friends.
I don’t mind any of these things, it’s just that my rabbit’s such a stress-head about doing everything properly. Why couldn’t she just have fun? This was her wedding, where we committed to each other for the rest of our lives. I wanted it to be a
memorable pleasure.
Em is a worrier. If only she could roll with the punches. I’m supposed to be the one with control issues.
Of course there was a wedding rehearsal. Another chance for Emily to find something that she’d forgotten to fret over, and add it to her numerous lists. And let’s not forget the dance lessons. Did I mention that I hate dancing?
I’d been hoping to get away unscathed, but no. There’s a rule somewhere that reads something like, ‘you can’t embarrass us by not being able to dance properly at your own wedding.’”
I didn’t know that my rabbit loves to dance. We’ve decided to take up Tango lessons when we get back from our honeymoon. It looks sexy and fun. I’ll learn to dance for her, because it’ll make her happy.
Emily’s delusional, she already thinks that I’m a good dancer. I figure that’ll be true once I get rid of my two left feet.
The ceremony was romantic, even to my cynical eyes. Seeing the woman I adore walk down the aisle, dressed in white and looking so pretty – it made my heart ache with love. If I was ever going to cry, I’d have done it then.
Man, she looked so damned beautiful. I was so happy and grateful that she said yes.
Sharing our vows was wonderful. It meant so much to both of us and was the entire point of all this expense, planning and stress. Truly. It was worth the price of admission.
Reggie was one of my groomsmen. That was special for us both. That poor kid’s been through some crappy things that adults would have difficulty coping with.
Reggie and I were inexplicably close before he saved my life. I checked to make sure that his mom was okay with him being a part of the wedding party before I asked him. I’ve never seen anyone smile as much as he did when he accepted the honor. Considering how rare one of his smiles can be, it was a thing of beauty to see.
He looked pretty damned good all decked out in a tux.
But then all of our euphoric pleasure was destroyed by hours of tedious photographs. What’s that about? How many pictures are enough, anyway?
The guests are lucky enough to be allowed to eat and drink, but everyone in the wedding party has to stand around having their photographs taken. And when you finally see the photos, there’s like a million to go through. At about twenty bucks each it seems to me.