Copyright 2002 Wanton Hussy, all rights reserved. This work may not be reproduced without permission.
WARNING: The following article is DIRTYDIRTYDIRTY! Do not read if this will disturb you!
Release
Part 3
In my post-orgasmic daze, she released me from the chains and pulled me to the bed, which stood on a low dais, dark canopied, with a soft black plush velvet coverlet. She sat me down on the dais, head resting on the edge. She left, turned on some soft classical music, and returned to sit on the bed. After a few moments she began to stroke and play with my hair, and when I opened my eyes I saw that her other hand was gently tracing patterns on her breasts. Again I was struck by how gloriously sweet her face was, softness and darkness and light all mingled, with that mop of careful ringlets cascading around her shoulders. And her lovely breasts, soft and full and round, with perfect nipples, dark and pert. My mouth began to water and I licked my lips, remembering the feel of her lips on mine, her nipples pressing into my back, her hands at my cunt.
She left again and returned with a large glass of water, and I drank deeply. She sat down, raising her skirt slightly so her boots showed. She commanded me to take them off, which I did. Her legs smelled faintly of the same spicy fragrance I had caught earlier, and through the silk of her skirt I could also smell the musk of her sex. When I was finished and had placed her boots neatly on the floor, she raised me up onto the bed to sit beside her.
"Have you been punished enough?" she asked, searching my face. "Yes Mistress," I replied with a shiver, remembering the pain still lingering in my ass. "And did your reward fulfill you?" she inquired. I could not help hesitate slightly, staring at her lips, but I replied, "Yes Mistress" again. She smirked slightly and said, "I appreciate that you are grateful for your pleasure, but it's no use to lie. I should punish you, but I think I will hold that off until later, when we next strip away more of your boundaries. Now, I think it is time for my own reward." She took my face into her hands and moved to kiss me, but stopped short, a breath away, until I opened my eyes. Only after our eyes had met did she kiss me, slowly and sensuously, her lips strong and firm, but her mouth open and sweet. She started gently enough, but one or two kisses later they were ravenous, hungry kisses, her tongue exploring my whole mouth, swallowing my tongue into hers, pulling away barely long enough for me to gasp a breath of air. Despite, or perhaps because of my recent orgasm, my own body began to revive, my hands aching to touch her, but afraid to move or take any initiative. She was the Mistress, my Mistress--this was her game and I was merely a player in it.
As if she knew what I was thinking, she took my wrists and moved my hands from the coverlet to her thighs, briefly over her corset, grazing the outside of her breasts to her shoulders, and I understood that she was giving me permission to touch her in these places. I drew her to me for another kiss, but she pulled back, staring me down. Her huge dark eyes mocked me-only she could initiate action. Instead I stroked her shoulders and naked upper arms, felt the silk of the gloves, traced with my fingertips the outer curve of her breasts, underneath, and to the cleavage, knowing that I was not yet allowed to do more than just barely touch. I ran my hands over her black and red corset, felt the boning and the shape that it gave her waist and the flare of her hips, the laces in the back. Such a hard, stiff garment, it made the flesh of her back and shoulders and breasts seem like butter, smooth and soft and yielding. Fantasies of pushing her back on the bed, handling her roughly, diving into her breasts and kissing her sweet mouth until she writhed beneath me flooded my head, but as my hands tightened at her waist, she caught them in hers, smirking again as if she could read my mind.
"Only what I allow you," she commanded softly. "No more. No less," and moved my hands to her breasts so that I cupped them. I stroked them, one in each hand, spiraling in from the outside to just around the nipple, repeatedly. I could have done this for hours, lost myself in her breasts, they were so perfect. Never before or since have I been so enraptured by a woman's breasts, never so attracted to them as a body part. After an eternity of gentle stroking she sighed and whispered, "The nipples," and I gently pinched and pulled them, rolling them between my fingers, feeling them contract and harden into stones in my hands.
She stretched her arms like a feline, stopping me, then moved further back onto the bed, on her back, pulling me down to her for another probing, hungry kiss. She moved my head to her breasts. I slowly retraced the spirals my fingertips had drawn using my tongue on one breast and hand on the other. I cupped the flesh of her breasts firmly in each hand as I took her nipple into my mouth, alternately sucking hard and flicking the tip gently with my tongue. I did the same to her other breast, hand on the wet nipple I had just left. As I took her nipple between my teeth, I bit gently, just holding it there, and flicked the end with my tongue, back and forth as she moaned, her hands in my hair.
Suddenly she pushed me away, saying snidely, "I hadn't expected such experience. Let's see what other skills you possess," as she pulled her long skirt up to her thighs. Her stockings were held up with garters, thick black elastic straps and silvery clamps, making her thighs glow like ivory or marble. Her pubic triangle was crowned with black curls, tidy and neat. She pulled her skirt up until the top of the triangle was exposed, but not the flesh above it, placed my hands firmly on her hips and said sternly, "Do not move your hands. No teeth, and no penetration at all." She paused and then added, "And no questions," with a small, wicked smile.
I bent and kissed her thighs, the sweet white flesh above the stockings, the bend at the hip joint, small kisses up and down, as she gradually spread her legs to me. I had only done this a few times before, and so long ago that I was afraid. But I wanted nothing more in the world than to make her gasp as she had before, to make her writhe and moan and come and perhaps give me another word of praise.
With my tongue I gently licked at her lips until she sighed and spread her legs further apart. Gently as a breath, I licked her folds, tasting her musk, breathing her in, intoxicated. I licked the inside of her outer lips, then the inner lips, thinking about how I liked to be touched; slowly, thoroughly, as if there was all the time in the world. Occasionally she would sigh or moan and gently caress my head or her breasts. My body pulsed and throbbed with her sounds and finally my tongue sought out her clitoris. It was hard and firm as I gently circled it with my tongue and drew it between my lips. I flicked my tongue across it, gradually faster as her breathing became more audible and I could feel her body flexing under my hands. Her hands on my head were moving as her pleasure grew. Again and again I circled her clit with my tongue, moving away to the rest of her cunt for a brief moment, then returning. As with me, these brief moments of rest made the return of direct pressure on her clit even more intense, and I knew I would soon bring her to orgasm. My nipples rubbed on the velvet coverlet and I felt moisture dripping down my hot thighs. I was close to coming, myself. But I refocused my thoughts on my Mistress, her clitoris the center of my universe, her pleasure my only reason for being.
But I had to do something to push her over the edge; we had been on this plateau for an eternity. She as rolling her head back and forth, her body shaking as the pleasure grew and grew but did not peak. Finally, in desperation, though I knew full well her commands, I took her clit gently in my teeth as I had taken her nipples, and rolled it gently between them, as I flicked the end with the tip of my tongue. Her entire body seemed to jolt with electrical current and she growled, "Yes!" in a guttural cry as her thighs locked around my head. I let go with my teeth and gently, ever so gently, every few moments licked again, so she shook and convulsed, calmed, and then came again and again, in a downward cascade, to one final small orgasm as she whispered, "No, stop, that's enough." I lay my head on her thigh and waited, exhausted and content, despite my own body's craving.
I had not known until that moment how deep my longing was to do this to another woman. I had male lovers so wonderful you could ask for none better, but I had ached, unfulfilled, to do this to her.
to be continued…