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‘This will be the last time you’ll see this collar…in a few minutes time it will be permanently locked around your neck…’

kinky-games

survival-guilt

Sunday-Part Three

“Bend forward, darling”

He obeys and is rewarded by my fingers pulling at the straps that hold his gag in place. He groans slightly as the thick plug is removed from his mouth, a trail of saliva following it.

“You know what to do…”

I lean forward, fingers splayed across the back of his hooded head and guiding him to me. His lips on my bare cunt are heaven. He is something of an expert and genuinely enjoys my taste. I can tell by how well he applies himself. He relishes me, he delights in me. This is as much a treat for him as it is for me. He licks and nibbles, always respectful, never rough, always reading, learning me. He kisses and sucks at my swollen lips patiently. He delves his tongue into me, relishing the stronger taste of my pussy before again circling, finding the nub of my clit, causing me to bite my lip in delight. I sigh and relax back onto the bed, my heels on his naked shoulders as he works hard to please me.

Again the world is quiet. Just his soft licking, my sighs, the creak of the leather.

Soon I am panting a little though, soft noises in the curtained dark of the bedroom. He can sense my nearness. He alternates stimulating me and pausing. His breath is hot on me. Finally I grasp his head between both hands and urge him to finish me.

He brings me to a surging climax, sending me spinning into semi consciousness as I feel wave after wave of pleasure rippling through me.

I come aware again a few minutes later and he’s there, kneeling, patient on the floor.

I smile, my heart full of him. He’s the perfect man as far as I’m concerned. Later, we’ll settle down together on the sofa and maybe watch a film or he will read to me. He’s bright and funny as well as sexy and submissive. For now though, my cruel streak is not entirely sated, so I pick up the gag and push it roughly back into his unprotesting mouth and buckle it up tight. I pull hard on the leash as I rise and he stumbles to his feet. I admire his strong arms and shoulders as he gets up, his muscled thighs and his thick, hard cock. ‘All mine’ I whisper to myself as I push him into the closet and down onto the floor.

The hogtie I put him in is especially cruel, but it makes me sigh at how much he will endure for me. Closing the door on him once more I head for the bathroom to run a bath, I consider how lucky we both are…..

survival-guilt

Sunday-Part Two

He stirs and his head turns towards me accompanied by a quiet, interrogative moan. He’s hooded. A leather hood is fastened over his head. It has small eyeleted openings at his nostrils. Thick padding is evident over his eyes. A broad pad is strapped tightly across his mouth holding a thick penis shaped protrusion in place. He struggles to sit, roped remorselessly. His hands and elbows are bound behind him. His legs are tied at thigh, knee and ankle.

“Such a good boy” I tell him, my voice soft and warm, reassuring. His head turns to the sound.

“Thank you for being so quiet and patient whilst I read”

He answers; a low, muffled noise. Between his strong thighs, his cock stands up, straining at the bootlace I have tied around it and his balls. My mouth waters involuntarily at the sight. Thick and veined, the head swollen and the balls taut.

I bend to untie his legs, a slow smile curving my lips at the deeply embedded red welts around his limbs from the tight ropes, a vivid scarlet memory embodied in his suffering flesh. No sense of guilt at the hurt. He needs to receive this as much as I delight in giving it. Our relationship, our marriage is based on an equality which does not exist in most vanilla pairings. Our respect is mutual and total.

I coil the ropes neatly and reach down for the leather looped handle of the chain leash that hangs from his thick collar and tug lightly. Awkwardly, with no help from me, he struggles onto his knees and then lurches upright.

“Good boy” I commend him “come with me….”

I lead him the short distance to the bedroom and tug once more to bring him to his knees by the side of the bed. Obedient as ever he kneels silently as I settle onto the bed. He can no doubt hear the sounds of the bedsprings, sense me shifting before him. I urge him forward a little, a combination of the leash and my heeled boots on his shoulders, helping him find the right position.

He knows what’s coming next. I do so love oral.

I shift a little and unzip myself, opening my thighs and sighing at the cool air on my waxed and bare pussy.

survival-guilt

Sunday-Part One

Silence.

Almost.

Just like Sundays should be. A peaceful time to relax and enjoy quiet contemplation.

The sounds are unobtrusive. The ticking of a clock off in the kitchen. Birdsong through the open window. Cars passing by on the road a hundred yards away in quiet susurrations. The rustle of the pages of the book as I turn them. The creak of leather as I move. My quiet breathing.

I take the final sip of coffee from the cup and put it down on its saucer, savouring the strong taste, allowing it to circulate in my mouth, washing over my tongue before swallowing it. Then I stand, putting down the book on the side table. I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror as I do so. Tall, dark haired. The black leather of the catsuit holds me and clings to my curves. Seeing myself dressed this way excites me and I can feel myself dewing. The feel of the leather makes me feel deliciously decadent. The memory of what is waiting for me upstairs makes me feel it even more so. What can be more decadent than having someone wait for you? Someone endure discomfort at your whim?

I pick up the short, tight, black leather gloves and slide them on, adjusting them and inhaling the subtle, heady aroma.

I turn away from the mirror and my preening. I’m a little vain. I don’t shy away from admitting it. I enjoy attention as much as the next woman and I won’t hide away in fake modesty. That’s not my style at all.

The stairs creak slightly as I mount them, soliciting an accompanying movement, a shuffle, a small muffled grunt, from the closet at the top of the stairs. I enjoy knowing that he can hear me coming. Will I open the door and let him out? Will I pass on and leave him there? He doesn’t know. I’ve left him in there for two hours now. It’s comforting to know that he’s there if I want him, but that I can enjoy time to myself as well. The perfect husband. Endlessly attentive to my needs. I unlock the closet door and open it, revealing the naked, trussed figure, curled on the floor.

realwomendonotdohousework

femalesupremacycaptions

I occasionally have my husband teach my new submissives the basic hand signals. I know it humiliates him, but I also observe a sense of pride in him as well, knowing the topic as well as he does.

bossymsbecky

Some time ago you wrote " And sometimes he may feel he is not so lucky. But then afterwards he’ll realize his mistake. And feel lucky again." Were you referring to the times when he has been punished? If so, how harsh is your punishment. I had a wife who spanked me as punishment, and though she sometimes went too far, imho, she was never brutal.

That´s exactly how I think he may feel at times: that I went far, maybe too far - but that I’m never brutal. I spank to make a point, to help shape the right attitude, to reinforce our respective positions in the relationship. So always for a reason, even if it is a maintenance spanking (which doesn’t occur very often, as I do find cause for a disciplinary session several times a week already).

Sometimes I administer punishment when I’m annoyed, either by him or by something or someone else. Maybe I shouldn’t wield the crop at those times - at least that’s an advice I have read more than once. But it relieves the stress I feel in the most effective way, even more than when I’m being licked (which will usually happen afterwards anyway). So even then it works out perfectly for me and him. Who would want an annoyed or sulking Mistress?

Disciplining him makes me extremely hot. Unless there is no time for it, I always reward him (and myself) by ordering him to kneel between my thighs and ‘lick me dry’. He’s always eager to pleasure me that way, but never more so than when his butt is on fire! So I imagine he may sometimes go from feeling sorry for himself to realizing he’s the luckiest guy in the world in less than an hour!