The Wanting x…

He kneels before her, naked, vulnerable. His Mistress sits above him, leans back and stretches out her stockinged leg, her toes touching his lips. “Kiss,” she says simply. He begins to kiss her foot. Though “kiss” is not the right term. He makes love to her sheer stockinged feet. Kissing, licking, caressing. Only after several minutes does he dare move from her feet to her legs, running the side of his face along the silky soft, maddeningly sensual fabric. He dare not rush for he has before and then been denied. She closes her legs creating a “groove” along her inner thighs in which he buries his face. So soft. The “wanting” is almost overpowering. She now leans back further and opens her legs wide, brazenly so. The sight of her soft inner thighs, then the darker welt of her sheer stocking tops and finally luscious folds of her so- moist pussy is enough to take his breath away….the “wanting” reaches new levels. She firmly but gently guides his face into the very centre of her sexuality. Holding his head in position she begins to raise and lower herself creating a rhythm along the length of his face. He, in turn, begins to run his tongue up the length of her pussy lips, dwelling on her clitoris like he has done a thousand times before (and will do a thousand times more…).”Good Boy” she purrs, her rhythm quickening “Good Boy”……  His pursuit of her pleasure and the obedience in which he provides it underpinning their relationship. The “knowing” that exists between them, the knowledge that the chemistry, this shared sensuality cannot exist in many other couples (certainly the ones they know anyway!). They are in a place of sexual perfection, each acting as the others orgasm-provider (albeit with certain conditions imposed by The Mistress). She bucks as her orgasm coursed through his body, continuing to hold his head in place. It is his place. His face acting as a sex-toy for his Mistresses pleasure. She simply uses his face as a means to provide herself pleasure. 
A Cum-Toy. He licks between her pussy lips, tasting her juices, her pleasure, her satisfaction. 

She takes orgasms whenever she wants, that is simply how it is, how they are. She will astride his face and work her pussy on him until she cums on him. Other times he will kiss her mouth, long, loving sensual deep kisses while caressing her sensitive pussy lips and clitoris with his expert hands until her orgasm shudders through her very being, hot breath on his face, tongues searching for the other. Once again he has pleased his mistress. It is his calling, his duty, his life. 
He, on the other hand, is allowed two orgasms per week and only then on the proviso he has pleased his mistress and even then the “two” rule will never be broken. “Good Boys get pleasure, Bad Boys do not” was the cornerstone of their relationship from the start. Mistress likes him in a state of “constant mild desperation” (which makes her giggle) which is then heightened depending on the length of time from his last orgasm and the amount of time he has spent within her legs, licking, kissing, pleasuring her. She will bestow on him only once per week the pleasure of being inside her pussy, to make love to her, to mount her and for this one time per week he is in charge, to raise her legs and pound his rock hard erection into her, time and time, over and over until he explodes deep within. Even then he must lick her clean, trailing salty cum on his tongue from her wet hole, mixing with her sweeter cum juices. The other orgasm he is allowed is sometimes being simply milked by his mistresses expert hands. Naked and somehow once again vulnerable, he will stand rigid, legs apart as if to attention while her hands work him, her voice cajoling him, his legs buckling as she drains him. Other times she will use her mouth on him, sucking deep, sometimes with ice and fire. Gazing up at him,  her tongue flicking his twitching erection as cum plumes from it. He is either desperate or (very) temporarily satisfied, that is his life and he willingly accepts it. If on the very rare occasions he displeases his mistress his punishment will, of course, be the denial of his pleasure for any length of time as determined by his mistress. She, on the other hand, will take at least one, possibly two orgasms per day during his abstinence. She will dress sexier, cleavage always on show, skirts shorter, suspenders and stocking tops a regular sight as she goes about her business. His eyes follow her, the longing almost unbearable, he is bereft, sorrowful, Desperate to atone. In these times she will often pleasure herself while he is forced to watch. Legs wide, caressing her pussy, moistening it before using a toy on herself. Sliding a six-inch rubber dildo in and out of her pussy while she holds his gaze, admonishing him for breaking eye contact to look down at her sex, her pleasure, the dildo being where he wants to be. It is almost too much to bear.”Aren’t i terrible?” she goads “sliding this in and out of my pussy…this bit of cheap rubber…this gets pussy, when you don’t” laughing, she breathes harder “aren’t I a horrible mistress, fucking my wet-hole, the pussy that you want so much with this ten quid dildo but I won’t let you have any, my boyfriend can’t have pussy but this dildo can…well that’s what happens when you disappoint me isn’t it?” 
He can barely talk “Yes Mistress” he manages to whisper. He is not far from tears but he knows she will not relent. He must endure his punishment and hope she is lenient, tolerant, benevolent. She orgasms, leaning back breathing hard. Then “come here” she beckons with her finger. She holds the dildo out toward him “lick it”. He dare not hesitate. He licks the length of he fuck-toy, tasting her. “That’s the nearest to pussy you are going to get for a week so I’d make the best of it if I were you” and probes his open mouth with the soaking, Cum covered object. “There that’s it, taste my pussy…bet you’re sorry now aren’t you” (he should have picked her dress up from the dry-cleaners but forgot). His backside was reddened with her riding crop immediately his forgetfulness had been discovered but it is the abstinence coupled with her displeasure, her disappointment in him that hurts far more. He will endure though and in a few days of almost unbearable frustration she will beckon him to her and bestow her gift on him. Harshly at first, still scolding him in a way. Possibly a ruined orgasm or two. Taking him to the brink and then withdrawing, leaving him to cum in mid-air with no expert hand or moth to drain him properly. Or she may let him fuck her pussy for a certain number of strokes that despite his frustration will not be a sufficient number to bring him to a blissful, long-awaited orgasm, then she will count his number, 10 possibly 15 “thrusts” inside her wondrous pussy and then she will place a stockinged foot on his chest and push him away with a simple “that’s enough” and he dare not argue, though he is allowed to beg. She will then guide his head between her legs and enjoy the satisfaction that she has denied him. “Next time” she purrs “maybe…if you’re a good boy “…



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