I know this is great torment for him, watching me please myself in this way, and I appease myself by moving my ling spiked heels up his chest alternatively, into his neck, pressing into his skin until he flinches, sliding my fingers inside to his subtle reactions to pain, letting him know how aroused I am by his pathetic discomfort.
Be Mine
It’s 2 in the morning and this image is in my head.
The dozen red roses are resting beautifully in the crystal vase on the counter, but what is more alluring is what is in the distance, he is sitting there for me, so patient, perhaps timid. In the chair. My only valentine request. At 8:00pm, sit in the chair.
And there he is so sweet and unsuspecting, his head down slightly, his eyes to the floor. He’s breathing a bit hard and it is simply precious. When I go to change I almost feel regret, but that’s so easily swept away.
Moments later I return, nothing too fancy, just in my high boots and pvc gloves because I want him to know I mean business, and the way his eyes travel over me I know he understands..and I see that definite swallow, the one he does, like a super hero that has been caught in a lair.
My precious angel, he plays up to me so well, knows how to act, what to say, what to do and what not to do. When to just sit and look solemn, when to look at me terrified. He makes me wonder when the suffering is real and when it is an act. He resists me but without force, instead using his eyes, his lips, his eyelashes even, seducing me, telling me without words, “you want to make love to me, you don’t want to hurt me.”. And the battle goes on.
He watches me solemnly as I tie down his hands, his wrists to the arms of the chair. this is the ritual, and he responds so perfectly with his steady breathing, like an escape artist preparing for a new trick. he watches like a cat, I know his mind is already working at a way out. My precious slave, so devoted, yet always looking for a way to test my temper. And he does it out of love for me, perhaps, knowing that I like to be pushed to torment him. Knowing that I love to see that side of him that hates to be tied down.
Of course, the ankles too, for it’s valentine’s day, we waste no time. only the best for my angel, he looks so appetizing in his bonds, the leather seems to fit him so well, and how his hair hangs in his face. I catch him gazing down at my ominous boots, how tall they make me, how they travel up my thighs, the shiny black patent leather, how he can see his reflection in them. Perhaps he wonders if he will be licking them soon, or end up face down on the floor with my heel in the back. On valentine’s day!
A whisper from him, it’s so soft and simple. “do you like the roses?’
Oh god..how he torments me..knowing what will pull at my heartstrings, trying to rip me from dom space and throw me into a silly romantic fit, a sweet vanilla girl with tears in her eyes at the thought of the gift. I look at him, eye to eye, he blinks sweetly.
A few seconds of battle in my mind then the dom sides wins…my gloved hand moves quickly and covers his mouth hard, pushing his head back, leaning into him, glaring down into his eyes. he looks up at me with a bit of confusion, fear. Oh ..how beautiful the black shiny pvc looks against his skin, I just marvel in that for a moment, then use my other hand to move a shiny black finger down his nose, and the sickening sweet dom side of me takes over and I smile so cruelly, pushing back the thoughts of the roses… smiling so sinister, looking at him like he is an object, property, my property. “I want you to be my valentine,”I say, placing a kiss on his forehead. With that I step away, letting go, giving his head a subtle shove of disregard as I turn away, sauntering, letting him look at me, moving my hands up into my hair, flaunting, my eyes closed, getting into my clothes, my body, how the latex feels, how the boots make me feel so powerful. I walk around the room and ignore him, I go to my roses and smell them, then become enraptured at how they look in against the blackness of my fingers, clad so tightly in the pvc.
i take one of the roses slowly, pulling it from the vase, holding it delicately, walking over to him. yes..I can see him looking at it, he takes a deep breath, he re-positions himself..his familiar preparation for pain, perhaps he things I am going to torment him with thorns. Would I do such a thing with this gift!?
I move the rose down between my breasts, cliche’, I know, but it just feels right, and the bud is so delicate, the scent is sweet. How devious I must look all clad in leather and latex, a gentle rose in my hand, staring at my bound victim, my valentine, my precious brave little pet.
I reach up and bring the rose to his mouth and give the simple order, “Open”. he obliges without hesitation, parting his lips, his teeth, carefully taking it by the stem, careful of the thorns.
I pull up a chair and tell him of my work day as I prop my boots up on his knees, then pull out a wrapped sucker from between my breasts, telling him that my boss gave it to me at work. it is a red heart shaped sucker and in white it says “Be Mine”. I tear off the plastic wrap and drop it, putting the sucker in my mouth, one hand falling precariously between my legs, which are parted slightly in his direction.
My valentine stares at me defiantly, rose between his teeth, my sweet romeo, as I lick and suck my sweet candy, moving my tongue around it, my black clad hand moving down between my legs more apparently.
I suck the white letters from the candy and then slide down in my chair, my legs still on his lap, parting them and moving the sucker down between my legs slowly. It is sticky against my thigh but I don’t really care. I move it between my legs, against me, around me, but never quite inside me, and keep my eyes shut until I hear his shifting in the chair. I snicker at him and lift the sucker back to my lips, then stand and move to him.
I take the rose from his teeth and put it between mine, then shove the candy into his mouth and order him, “Lick.” He shuts his eyes and savors it, probably tasting more of me than the sweet cherry flavor. I take a fistful of hair and pull, ordering, “make it good, make me want that tongue inside of me.” I prod him by tightening my fist in his hair when he does things that dont interest me and moaning with pleasure when he does things that do. I pull the sucker from his mouth and make him follow it with his tongue, telling him in a soft voice that if he is good he will enjoy my sweet taste as well. but that he’d better work on it before the candy ran out. All this comes as a bit of a growl through clenched teeth as I’m still holding the rose, but finally I remove it and slide it down his body, over his clothes, between his legs, pressing it into him. I rest myself on his knee, knowing he can feel my wetness through his pants, moving with him, watching him lick the sucker, then sliding my finger into his mouth as well, and ordering firmly, “go down, suck it hard, be the little slut that you are”.
So my nasty dom side has taken over, and I revel in his little teasings of me, how trampy he can be, how he plays up to the side of me that wants to be nasty and crude, as I whisper dirty words into his ear and then make him recite them back to me.
All the while I move into his leg suggestively and he knows he is doing well, and then of course he gives me that grin and flat out refuses one of my orders, slipping into his resistant mind frame just to make me show my cruel side.
I glare at him and remove what is left of the sucker, taking it into my mouth and biting it off. I chew it deliberately and nod at him, he can tell by the gleam in my eye that he is in trouble.
I drop the small white stick from the sucker and remove my gloves slowly. It takes some times because they are so tight, and the heat from my skin makes them stick a bit. When I have them both removed I lean over and force one into his mouth. He resists a bit, turning his head from side to side and letting out a muffled protest. I growl at him to shut up and turn to me, holding him hard by a fistful of hair.
I use the other glove to wrap around his head and tie the other one in place, which is the wonderful thing about the gloves because they are so long. I tie it tightly and relentlessly, then step away and walk loudly around his chair in my boots, scolding him for his behavior.
He is cocky and resistant, as expected, and looks at me with solid, defiant eyes. “Are you going to make me hurt you on valentine’s day?” I ask him.
He stares back at me for a moment then responds, a simple half shrug.
I sit back down across from him and slide down into the chair, one foot on each of his knees, opening my legs, exposing myself to him. I move my hands down my thighs, between my legs, moaning to myself. “You have a responsibility as my valentine,” I say breathlessly. “Whether or not you participate.”
He stare with those strong defiant eyes but I see weakening, as he can tell how wet I am, how much I want his tongue, his fingers inside of me.
I know this is great torment for him, watching me please myself in this way, and I appease myself by moving my ling spiked heels up his chest alternatively, into his neck, pressing into his skin until he flinches, sliding my fingers inside to his subtle reactions to pain, letting him know how aroused I am by his pathetic discomfort.
Then finally I am besides myself, and I whisper softly, one word, “struggle.”
He stares at me for a moment, defiant again, but then his eyes lower and he sighs to himself, I can see he is starting to sweat a bit. his bangs look perfect down in his eyes, his breathing is shaky, demanding.
He starts to twist at his hands and I feel the aching at once, the way it drives me, to watch such a struggle, to know it is in vain. I order him half way through to look at me, to watch me climax without him, to watch me cum from his helplessness, my boot heels digging into his chest, my own hands on my body, mocking him.
I cum to his soft whimpering of defeat, or pretend defeat, as I’m sure he knows that soon I will be in his arms and we will be making love. He plays into me perfectly, suffering for me, strained against his bonds, watching me writhe in front of him while he can do nothing but moan with me.
Afterward I shake a bit, shudder, hold myself, and look at him. My eyes wander a bit, it’s that hesitation, perhaps some guilt. He blinks at me so affectionately, how could he from behind the straps and with my glove half way down his throat, yet he does.
I move over to release him and see the roses on the counter and start shaking all over again, overcome with guilt.
As soon as the glove comes from his mouth he says, “It’s ok.”, I suppose he can sense that I feel a little bad for tormenting him after he was so good to me this day.
Before I get his hands free I lean over and put my mouth on his, kissing him deeply, holding his face in my hands. i want to break away to say “I love you” but I just can’t seem to break the kiss.
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