Stepping back from him, he asks, “What next?”
I pull him up and he kicks his pants off. Holding onto his dick like a leash, I lead him up the stairs to the dungeon. Once inside, I lean against the bed post and give my order.
“Undress for me.”
He slowly unknots his tie and drops it to the floor. Next, his nimble fingers unbutton his shirt. He takes his jacket off, then his shirt and he tosses them to the side. The room is silent except for our breathing and the cascading sounds of his clothing dropping to the floor. Oh, the sweet torture of watching my gorgeous Master undress is a sight to behold.
Finally, he removes his undershirt and stands fantastically naked in front of me, his cock ring glinting in the romantic dim light of the chandelier. Walking over to him, I stand directly in front of him and run my fingers through the soft, dark patch of hair below his navel, twirling my fingers in it and watching his mouth. His lips part and he exhales slowly. I move my hand down to his shaft and stroke it gently, then caress his sack. I abruptly squeeze it and Dylan winces in pain and hisses through his teeth.
“These belong to me,” I tell him.
He closes his eyes tightly, throwing his head back and continuing to hiss as I squeeze tighter.
“Say it, Dylan.”
“Yes…” he breathes out.
I squeeze firmer yet. “Yes, what?” I ask more sternly.
His eyes open and his fiery gaze meets mine. “Yes, Mistress, these balls belong to you,” he grunts out.
Easing my grip on him, he exhales slowly and his body relaxes.
“Now undress me,” I request politely.
Dylan reaches behind me and unties the apron strings from around my neck as he leans down into me. Then he reaches behind me and unties the strings from around my waist. His slow movements are sheer torture, but it’s a sensual game I enjoy thoroughly. He slips my shirt off over my head and smiles when he sees I’m not wearing a bra. His warm rough hands brush my skin delicately as they move around front of me. Running his thumbs over my nipples, I step away from him.
“Did I give you permission to touch me?” I ask.
His hands drop to his sides and he looks bemused.
“Move to the cross,” I tell him. I have yet to shackle him there and I’ve been patiently biding my time, waiting for the right moment.
Dylan’s eyebrows furrow as he internally struggles with my command. His stance shifts slightly and I become impatient with him.
“What are you waiting for?” I say melodically. I’ve learned that in Domme mode, I get a much better response when using sensual domination as opposed to austerity, and when I ply Dylan with soothing commands as opposed to severe ones.
To my joy, he blinks rapidly and looks apologetic. I know just how to get the most out of my submissive Dominant. He slowly moves in front of the cross and stands motionless, facing away from me. When he turns around, his forehead is creased again. Realizing that I need to act promptly before he changes his mind, I back him up against the cross, push his legs apart and swiftly cuff his ankles in place. Next, I grab his left wrist and raise it to bind him. He’s a good head taller than me and I have to tiptoe to reach the cuff. When I look at Dylan, the corners of his mouth are lifted in a small smile as he watches me labor to shackle him. This Mistress isn’t having any of that.
Narrowing my eyes at him, I tell him, “I’d wipe that look off my face if I were you.”
Dazed by my unwavering domination, he blinks rapidly again, his contrite eyes peering at me through his dark thick lashes.
I move to his other wrist and cuff it, too, and step back to eye my handy work. I think perhaps we’ll try a little edging tonight. I’ll bring him near orgasm time and time again, only to deny him until I see fit to allow him to come. Yes, that sounds fantastic.
Dropping to my knees, I lick and stroke him the way I know he likes it. He starts to groan and tense up, and just as he does, I stand and back away from him. His tightly closed eyes open, confusion settling on his face. When his breathing slows, I move in front of him again and stroke him, slow at first and gradually speeding up. When I look down at his beautiful cock, a small amount of precome is dripping down his dick. I smear it around the head of his cock with my thumb and then lick it off my finger. Dylan’s mouth twitches with my action and his tongue slicks over his lips. I stroke him again and when his body reacts to my touch, I abruptly stop and step away from him. His eyes narrow at me in frustration and he growls through clenched teeth.
“Do you want to come?” I ask him teasingly.
“Yes, Mistress,” he answers.
“You’ll come when I’m good and ready. Do you understand?”