I can’t help the tremble in my hands as I put the finishing touches on the makeup my mistress instructed me to wear. When we play, she likes it light on the skin and lips, barely there but accentuated on my eyes, making me appear youthful and innocent. I widen my eyes at my reflection, playing up the innocent look. Almost of their own accord, my lips curve up at the corners. I like it, and I hope Charlie will, too. Pleasing her makes me happy, gets me off, and generally makes for some amazing sex. It’s little wonder I’m such a bag of nerves and excitement. At this rate, there’ll be juices soaking into my underwear before I’ve even left the room.
Still smiling, my hands still not the steadiest, I push the mascara wand back into its casing, screw it closed, and put it down on the dresser. I pick up the pearl choker next to it—a stunning piece of jewellery with four strings of pearls affixed one on top of the other—loop it around my neck and fasten it with an ease born of practice, my hands seemingly back under my control. The choker feels good, sitting flush against my skin, a mark of Charlie’s ownership and my submission, and the only piece of jewellery I have on.
Next I smooth my hair, patting down some wisps and strands that haven’t quite made it into the loose plait hanging between my shoulder blades, secured with a white ribbon. A ribbon which perfectly complements the sexy white-and-sheer lingerie I’m wearing, my nipples not quite covered by the bra, my arse bisected by a skinny piece of material that makes up the back of the tiny thong. I pull and tweak at the various straps and scraps of material, ensuring everything is in place, so I look as tempting as possible for my female dom.
Finally, I slip into a beautiful floaty dress, despite knowing I’ll be wearing it for no time at all—likely just the length of time from now to when I’ve made my way out of the house, down the garden, and up to the loft in the barn conversion where Charlie’s waiting for me. But it is what my mistress has commanded, so, needless to say, it’s what I’ll do. No perfume, only the soft, lingering scent of the floral soap and the shampoo I used in the shower.
And now it’s time. I put on my white pumps, then move over to the full-length mirror and do a slow rotation, craning my neck when needed so I can check myself out from every angle, ensuring I haven’t accidentally got my dress caught in my suspender belt, that my stockings aren’t laddered. Everything has to be perfect. I’m fairly sure it is, and the tremble returns to my hands and also renders my knees jelly-like as I make my way from the room, through the house and out the patio door into the back garden.
Night is falling, but I can still see well enough to pick my way along the path to my destination. Birds call to one another, and I think I even hear the hoot of an owl. I shiver, but I’m not sure if it’s fear, cold, or anticipation which caused it. Possibly all three.
I glimpse light through the double doors on the top floor of the restored barn and straighten my spine, just in case my mistress is watching my approach. She will undoubtedly be anticipating it.
When I reach the metal staircase, I resist the temptation to rush. Charlie expects me to arrive on time without hurrying, and I have mentally timed every action to make that happen. I’m fairly certain by the time I reach the doors, I will be within seconds of the allotted time. And if I’m not, hopefully, my appearance will be enough to make her forget.
My heart gives an almost painful lurch when I get to the landing. She’s there, highlighted by the overhead bulb, in her sexiest boss bitch get-up, hands on her hips and chin held high as she watches me approach. Safe in the knowledge she can’t hear me, I gulp hard as I take a step forward, undo the sash around my waist, then ease my dress from my shoulders, pull my arms from the sleeves, slowly push the material down past my hips, before letting gravity do the rest. I ditch my shoes, then creep forward and tap my knuckle timidly against the cold glass. I have no idea if the goosebumps erupting over my skin are from anticipation or the chill of the night air.
She saunters over, hips swaying exaggeratedly, hands still slotted against them until she reaches the doors and unlocks them to let me in. They swing wide, and my pulse races as I cross the threshold, then my heart skips a beat at the sturdy thunk of the doors being secured once more. Oh God, this is it.
Charlie takes my hand and leads me further into the room. She looks incredible in her orange silk blouse, tight black trousers and black skyscraper heels. But then, she’d look incredible in a bin bag. Her long red hair sweeps down her back, shiny and beautiful, and I imagine the sensation of it tickling my skin as she does dirty, delicious things to me.
Once I’m positioned beneath one of the overhead lights, the beam highlighting my pale skin and skimpy lingerie, she releases me, only to place a finger beneath my chin and lift it, so she can inspect me. Her stern, impassive expression gives nothing away. She could be ecstatic or utterly disappointed. I honestly haven’t a clue, but her touch on my skin leaves a line of erotic fire behind, which rapidly zings through my entire body.
Sweat breaks out on my palms as she begins circling me, her heels clicking steadily, firmly against the wooden floor. The scent of her perfume is intoxicating, something sharp and sexy—just like her. I follow her with my gaze, unsure of what she has planned for me, and hope my nerves don’t show on my face. As she reaches my side, she looks me up and down before giving the slightest of smirks, so slight and sudden it could be I imagined it, and then her face is impassive once more. She tilts my chin again and continues her circling. On reaching my other side, she sweeps a hand from my shoulder to my wrist and back up again before doing similar to my other arm. Such gentle, soft movements, and yet my body reacts as though she went right in and touched my clit. I fight hard to keep my expression blank. I don’t want to get into trouble. I want to please her. That’s all I’ve ever wanted.
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Oh, I think I have! She sweeps an elegant finger under her own chin, trails her fingertips over her jewellery-laden decolletage, then her lips part and form into something like a leer of appreciation as she resumes walking around me.
Yet another tilt of my chin, and then she’s behind me, fingertips trailing, hands caressing until… yes. She cups my breast in one hand, my throat in the other, eases me back against her and turns my head to look at her over my shoulder. More teasing caresses follow, some kisses at the nape of my neck. My nerve endings are on fire. Another circle, squeezing, grabbing and stroking along the way. God, it’s bliss and torture all at once. Every part of me yearns for her, yet all I can do is stand here and take only what she doles out. I’m not completely passive—by prior arrangement, I am permitted to look at her, even to touch her hands when she touches me, but there’s an invisible line, and I am determined not to cross it.
When she pushes her thumb into my mouth, my pussy throbs. She thrusts it in and out of my eager mouth, then jerks it away and lands a light slap on my cheek. Moisture seeps into my underwear. Then finally, finally, it seems Charlie is headed for that very area. She teases and titillates my front, eventually dipping her hand beneath my thong and zeroing in on where I need her the most. The tiniest exclamation escapes her lips as she encounters my wetness, and she begins stroking me there as she palms my throat and lands kisses on my face and neck—even a nibble of my earlobe.
Her movements are steady but precise, and now I can’t help but let my feelings show on my face as she brings me such intense pleasure. I swell and seep beneath her fingers, ecstasy building. But then she pulls away and slaps my shaven pubis. I’m momentarily disappointed—I wanted her there so bad—until she turns me slightly and begins whacking my backside with her open hand. Sparks of pain dance across my flesh, then morph and add to the intense pleasure gathering in my core.
She dips her hand between my cheeks and rubs my pussy from behind, stopping every now and again to land another whack on my bum. Then, following a final smack that rings out in the quiet of the room, she takes my hand and leads me over to a chair, bids me sit down.
The surface is cold beneath my mostly bare skin, but I fight hard not to wince. The chill is actually kind of nice against the growing heat of my buttocks, thanks to her ministrations.
She leans in, kisses me, heartily but all too briefly, before stepping away, heels clicking on the floorboards. She’s gone over to a cupboard set in the wall, an equipment cupboard, and she pulls something out, but the low light means I can’t make out what it is. I’m sure I’ll find out soon enough. The door squeaks closed, and the thunk, thunk, thunk of Charlie’s footsteps as she returns makes my heart pound faster. What does she have planned?
Something glints in her hands. When she gets close enough, I see it’s a thin chain. She teases me with it, loops it around my throat, trails it over my skin. Kisses me again. Then uses the chain to bind my hands behind my back. As always, she ensures I’m both secure and comfortable, then returns to my front, where she captures my mouth once more, her hair caressing my skin, just as I’d dreamed about earlier. Her hands follow suit, and she teases and titillates my breasts and stomach before slipping her hand into my underwear and continuing to stroke me while pushing the thumb of her other hand between my lips. I coat both her hands with moisture, spiralling higher and higher into bliss as her talented fingers play me like the finest of instruments.
I watch, rapt, as she pulls away, only to reach down and remove my thong, then spread my legs and feast her gaze on what lies between them. She seems happy with what she sees and gives me a salacious grin followed by a spine-melting kiss, which I can’t help but lean into. After the briefest touch of her tongue on mine, she shoves me back into the chair, then brushes my inner thighs before sticking two fingers between those perfect lips and wetting them. It’s so sexy, and that’s even before she begins softly stroking my labia with those dampened digits. Quiet gasps and moans pour from me, particularly when she grasps my throat and ups her game on my pussy—entering me with two long fingers and picking up the pace.
Once more, she teases and torments, alternating swift finger fucks with slow stroking, her fingers curling deliberately against my G-spot, stimulating as much of me as she possibly can. She moans too, seemingly enjoying this as much as I am, which brings me more pleasure still.
She drags down one cup of my bra, closes her hot mouth around my stiff nipple, and feasts on it as she continues to drive her fingers in and out of me. I can’t stop the noises I’m making now—I’m well on my way to climax and rapidly losing grasp of my control. I curl my toes, twitch and fidget in the chair, grunt and moan and gasp. Then I’m gone. Lost. Pleasure washes through me in multiple waves, and finally, I relax. Bathe in the aftershocks as Charlie smiles, strokes me, continues to finger me, and slaps my wet vulva.
After a moment, she tugs down the other cup of my bra, pushes my breasts together and suckles each straining, needy nipple in turn, but only for long enough to leave me wanting more. She pulls away, stands, releases one of my wrists from the chain, leaving it circling my other wrist. Using the chain as a lead, she urges me from the chair and over to one of the huge wooden posts supporting the structure of the building. She attaches me to it, my upper chest resting against the cool, rough surface as she returns to spanking me.
I can’t help smiling as the sharp sounds ring out in the room. It sounds good, feels good, and I want more. Charlie reaches between my cheeks, strokes my pussy while raining kisses on the side of my face and my shoulders. Faster, harder, slower, softer. At one point, I’m vaguely aware of the scorching wet line of her tongue up my back.
And then she’s gone. Clicking across the room, leaving me bound and bereft, but at the same time eagerly anticipating what she had in store for me next.
More footsteps. The cupboard door squeaks. Open. Closed. Returning footsteps. Oh God, what is she going to do next? I bite my lip, clench my internal muscles.
Clench them again, a trickle of juice seeping out when I catch sight of what she’s carrying. A thick, black strap-on. The hairs stand up on the back of my neck.
She sits in the chair and slips into the harness. Stands, adjusts the straps and strides over to me, fake cock in one hand, a bottle of lube in the other. She strokes the shaft teasingly against me a couple of times, before giving it a liberal coating of lube. The bottle put aside, she guides me into a bending over position. I need to be on my toes to match her height in those awesome heels, and I thrust my backside out eagerly as she pushes the dildo inside my pussy.
She fucks me, fills me, slowly at first. Then faster, gripping my hips and yanking me onto the strap-on as she meets me thrust for thrust.
Slower. A slap to my buttock. My pussy is molten. Jewellery clanks. Our breathing and moaning mingle in the air. Her hands are all over me, stroking, spanking, caressing. Then somehow, we’re upright, one of her hands on my throat, the other at my clit, and she’s still fucking me. The rock and roll of her hips is delicious and maddening at the same time, the push and pull of the dildo dragging at my nerve endings over and over. I’m dizzy with lust, and I have no idea how or when this is going to end. Hopefully never.
The pleasure, exerted in so many places at once, builds to fever pitch. Charlie knows I’m close and keeps doing what she’s doing, revelling in it, until she pushes me over the edge. I tense and moan, my core spasming around her shaft, ecstasy racing through me.
Charlie’s gentle as I come down from my natural high. Stroking, caressing, easing her cock out of me. Kissing me. After a moment, she moves over to the wooden support, undoes my binds, leaving just one wrist trussed up again, then leads me back to the chair. I sit there for a moment to catch my breath, then she urges me to lie on the folded-up duvet on the floor, before securing my wrists back together, my arms over the top of my head.
I watch, my entire body tingling with arousal, as she sits in the chair, removes the strap-on, and then slips off her shoes. She stands, unfastening her trousers, and I delightedly drink in the sight of her luscious legs as they are revealed, smooth and strong, her hairless pussy visible at their apex since she has on no underwear.
She steps out of the trousers, but leaves the orange silk shirt where it is, much to my disappointment, then approaches me and pushes at my knees so I straighten my bent legs. Then, slowly, sinuously, with an incredible amount of grace, she sits on my face. I dive in immediately, both eager to please her and desperate to taste her perfect pussy. She’s hot, wet, swollen, and I play my tongue in her folds, drinking her up, then zero in on her clit.
Charlie rocks on my face, her moans growing in volume and intensity. All I can do is hang in there as she fucks my mouth, her sweet juices smearing over my tongue, lips and face. I’m in heaven.
Soon, she comes with a shudder and a tiny cry—but it’s not enough. She shifts position slightly and continues grinding against my mouth until she’s satisfied. I don’t mind—I’d happily do this all day. Before long, she backs away, and I’m finally treated to a glimpse of her glorious tits as she undoes her shirt and bares her beautiful body, her smooth, flat stomach. I can’t touch, of course, but I take in the sight, appreciate it enormously until it’s gone again, as she bends to kiss me.
To my surprise, her next move is to sit on my face again. My tongue glides between her labia, over and over, as she rocks against me like I’m some sort of ride-on toy. This time, as well as having the view of her beautiful face, I can also see her stunning breasts, which she reaches up to grasp and squeeze as she pleasures herself on my tongue. She speeds up, gasps and lets out a “Yes!” Her cries become ever more high-pitched as she loses control. Then she palms the top of my head with both hands, pinning me in place, and grinds against me as she comes. She groans, breathy sounds as she enjoys her moment of bliss, then she carefully clambers off me and taps my cheek before kissing me again.
Then she stands, turns away and slowly bends to retrieve her shoes, trousers and the strap-on, deliberately giving me a full-on view of her magnificent arse, her pussy lips visible between them, still glistening and swollen.
Without a backward glance, she walks away, my female dom, with the slightly unsteady gait of a woman who’s just climaxed, leaving me bound, supine, utterly wrung out. Used.
And happier than I’ve ever been.
The End
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