The Bondage Mistress

The Bondage Mistress
By Marc Holt


She always liked it a bit rough. But not all the time. Just after things started getting steamy she would crave a man to her deepest depths. But very few men were able to satisfy her craving. They were too tender, too romantic, or too rough. There didn’t seem to be any inbetween.

Finally, she met a man who was everything she wanted, an Adonis, a brain that excited her to perdition, a manner both kind and gentle yet occasionally mean and nasty. He was unfathomable. But it wasn’t enough for her. She craved more. More what, she didn’t know. All she knew was she wanted it.

Only one way to get it. Force him to the floor and walk all over him. Make him react. Deride him. Debauch him. Denude him of all that he thought he was.

How? How? What could she do to capture that magic moment? She’d already pissed on him in a fit of ecstasy as she rode him like the stallion he father had when she was a young girl obsessed with its huge organ. How she loved to stand and watch as the stallion grew rampant. She was afraid to touch it, yet she longed to try.

It was the same with this man. She knew she could take their love to new heights. But she was afraid she would scare him off.

Then one day she came home after visiting the doctor to find him talking to her best friend. That’s all. Just talking. But they were sitting so close together she scented more than she saw.

What were they doing before she arrived?

Was he looking guilty?

She couldn’t tell.

It didn’t matter. She had her suspicion. She nurtured it. She stroked it into a bright flame, letting her imagination lead her where she didn’t really want to go. She tried, oh yes she tried, not to go there. No use. She was hypnotized. Dazzled. Lusting for the pain, the humiliation.

Not for her.

For him.

She plotted in the dark night while he snored softly. Yes, she thought, why not?

On the phone to her best friend, she hinted at a treat. Would she come over and help her have some fun? Would she like to experiment at something she’d never tried before?

Intrigued, her friend agreed.

“Come tonight at 10. Not before. I want it nice and dark for this surprise.”

Ten it was. Right on the stroke there was a soft knock at the door. She opened it. Her friend stood there, her face questioning but looking excited too.

Come in, she told her. The living room was dark, lit by perhaps a dozen candles scattered around the furniture. Fantastic shadows leaped across the walls and ceiling as the two women moved to the lounge and sat down comfortably.

Her best friend looked at her, a question in her eyes. She handed her a glass of wine, and raised her own glass in a silent toast. They drank.

She put a finger to her lips. Don’t make a sound she mimed. The wine, the silence and the dark conspired to create a mood that was tantalizingly erotic, yet scary as well. Her best friend didn’t know yet what was expected of her.

She stood, stretched languidly, and slowly removed her clothes. Her friend watched, mesmerized, unsure of what to expect.

Next, she picked up some pieces of rope she had draped over a chair in the shadows. She pointed at her friend and gestured to her to undress too.

Both naked, they stood facing each other. The candle lit faces shifting in the flickering light. She poured another wine and pointed.

Follow me.

She led the way to the bedroom. Her man lay stretched out on his back, the way he always slept. A soft snore escaped. He looked quiet, peaceful, yet powerful in his inertness.

She showed her friend what she wanted to do. They tied his arms and legs gently so they didn’t wake him. A minute later he was tied firmly to the bed.

He stirred but didn’t wake. He felt no threat in his sleep….yet.

She beckoned to her friend to bestride her man’s stomach, pushing her friend down so that her soft bush lay on his muscled stomach like an offering to a fickle god.

Her friend sat there, unsure what to do next.

She moved behind her and sat beside her man. Picking up his flaccid organ she put it in her mouth. It was still soft enough that she engulfed the whole thing. Then using her tongue she stroked gently, enjoying the feeling in her mouth as she enticed his manhood to attention.

He murmured, his eyes opening as she coaxed him gently awake. When she felt him stir, she stopped and moved up behind her friend to peer down into his eyes, holding his manhood in her hand. She smiled. His eyes whipped open wide. He tried to move. But there was no slack in his bonds.

She shushed him. Don’t make a sound, shaking her head she said silently. He lay there, wondering what was coming next. Would this end badly? Had she found out about his dalliance with her best friend? Was this her revenge? But what sort of revenge was this? The mystery was exciting.

He lay still and watched, his eyes flicking from her face to her best friends pert breasts. Both women were breathing heavily. She grasped her friend’s hand and placed it on his cock, helping her friend grasp and stroke, their two hands working in unison.

He hardened again. She pushed her friend up his body until her soft pubes were just brushing his chin. He breathed in her scent, her pheromones urging him to excitement.

She licked his chest, nipping his nipples gently. He groaned. Her friend lifted herself up and placed herself over his waiting mouth. He started moving slowly as his tongue quested, fanning the flames of her friend’s lust.

As she moved down his body, her tongue flicking in and out, his skin rose in goose bumps as he writhed against the restraints. Her friend was groaning softly, her hips thrusting up against his nose and then down across his chin. He fought for breath, but there was no respite.

Finally, his woman reached the center of all his pleasure, licking, nipping lightly. The pleasure and the pain melded. She nipped hard once, breaking the skin. A small pearl of blood excited her and sank onto his shaft, pleasuring herself as he writhed in agony. She moved slowly at first, feeling the delicious stalk move up inside her. She increased the pace until they were both at the brink.

Then the short death as they came together. His breath coming in short spurts, mimicking his orgasm. She sank down, feeling him start to go limp after he had spent himself inside her. She squeezed her muscles, not allowing him to escape that easily.

The punishment continued. She nipped the skin on his shaft again, bringing yet another small pearl of blood forth. She smiled, satisfied as she beckoned her best friend down to take her place. She turned her friend to face his feet and helped position him as her friend sank down onto him. He had become a little soft, so she had to tuck him in and encourage him to rigidity again. It took a few moments, but then he stirred. She smiled in anticipation.

Moving up next to him, her hands caressing his body, teasing him, fluttering over his nipples, caressing the area behind his ears. He was quivering, groaning, the sensory overload starting to short-circuit his brain.

The two women worked on him for hours. Never letting him escape. They were insatiable, as only a woman in heat can be. The bed sheets were soaked from their combined efforts. But the women didn’t care. They were totally focused on maintaining their mounting orgasms. Screams of delight mixed with his grunts of pleasure and pain. There was no respite.

Finally, the women stopped, gazing blank eyed at each other, totally sated. Their victim lay there sobbing, unable to move, drained, wrung dry. He’d lost count of the orgasms; his and theirs.

She took her best friend’s hand and led her out of the bedroom. They sat in the lounge room sipping a deep red wine. Not saying a word. There was no need. Both knew what the night was about. They smiled languidly at each other, waiting for the man to come to his senses. Then they would resume their attack again. He wouldn’t last the night, would he?

But then, it didn’t matter, did it? She had mixed their blood well tonight. The doctor had warned her that the disease was passed easily if blood was present.