http://mistressveronicanyc.blogspot.com/2013/02/untitled-1-this-will-happen-but-not-to.html
Now his ass is
hot and adequately warmed up to my liking. "Leave the shoes on," I say,
and tell him to sashay back to The Room, watching his ass wiggle
awkwardly down the hall, all bowlegs and wobbles. I think I'll put him
in the cage tonight when I'm finished. He is on his hands and knees
when I enter The Room. "Stand up,", I say, "Put your back against the
wall." He knows which wall I mean, the one with the shackles, of
course. I slip the black leather cuffs around his wrists and his
ankles, securing him in very tightly. He is splayed out like Vetruvian
Man. DaVinci would be pleased. I get my face near enough so that he
can feel my breath on his lips. He stays very still, I can feel him
looking at me, thinking about how wet and sweet my mouth is when we
kiss. I put my hands on his shoulders. My fingertips caress up the
back of his neck and I touch his ear slightly with my mouth, lightly
kissing the lobe and exhaling hot breath lightly, my teeth grazing. A
bit suddenly I make my nails pierce the tops of both of his ears to
remind him of the times where I've been his teacher and led him around
by them. His head jerks back, and he hits it on the wall. It jostles
him and I snicker, standing fiercely with my legs apart clutching his
ears without budging, he takes a sharp breath through his teeth. I
become distracted and want to touch his chest, so feel down to his
nipples once more, pinching lightly at first, feeling how hard they are,
then squeezing them. Gradually increasing the pressure, his lips
tighten but his eyes stay focused on me. I tell him to breathe and to
keep looking at me, and take pleasure in watching the surrender build in
his eyes. He is trembling. I look down and he is still erect. I
decide it is jutting out way farther than I want it to be and take a
long piece of thin rope, winding it around his sac and tightening it so
that his smooth balls give off a faint sheen from the tautness. I
caress them and alternately pull at the fine red hair- and continue to
braid the rope up his cock, tying it in a knot just below the head, and
then tying it around his waist so that it seems pinned to his abdomen. I
notice moisture on the head of his cock and slick it off with my
finger. He sucks it off and I slap him. Because I feel like it.
I
rub against him, using my knee to tease his cock, my hands on either
side of his body, trapping him. He doesn't know if it will be
pleasurable or if I will decide to knee him suddenly, so I lay my knee
slowly into his cock and balls. His quivering turns into quaking and
perhaps taking pity on him, perhaps not, take a chunk out of his thigh
with my hand and squeeze. "Good, concentrate on another area, darling,"
I say. He leans forward and a purple imprint appears on his thigh in
the shape of my nails. Admiring it for a second, I turn around and
walk to the nipple clamps dangling from the shelf. I choose the "nice"
clamps, and secretly stash the much more painful binder clips in my
other hand. Turning around, I walk over to him and place the normal
clamps on him which I know feel like pressure, but not pain-- he can
take it, he's thinking. I let him kick off the shoes and his legs
collapse a bit, and he hangs from his wrists as I untie him and decide I
want him over my knee again. He is to choose a paddle from the metal
shelf. If he chooses one that's too light he knows he will get more
thwacks, and that will possibly be all he gets. He instead chooses the
lexan paddle. My eyebrows go up. He comes to lay back down on my lap,
his ass still red with lines from my spanks. I linger over it and
admire my work laid like enamel into the perfection of his ass and think
it's my canvas in a way. I then banish the banality of the thought and
become giddy at the prospect of what it will look like later. The
lexan paddle is about a foot and a half long, clear with holes drilled
into it. A client had bought it for me years before as it is much less
forgiving than wood. I spank him again to warm him up a bit more,
until I feel a slight firmness of the skin under my hand again. I feel
the hard wetness of his cock against my panties, and wonder if I should
just throw him down and fuck him right there... nah. The paddle is
heavy in my hand as I start to slowly thwack away at him and grab him by
the back of his hair, pulling it back, exposing his thick neck and
rubbing the paddle across his ass, letting it thud over and over as he
winces and tightens then relaxes. Again and again until he's given his
pain to me and accepts he is going to get hurt as I make his ass messy
with streaks of purple and red until I am satisfied.
I
run my nails up and down the backs of his thighs and grab his ass,
rubbing it and spreading his cheeks open so I can see how pink his
asshole is and to admire his taint. I spit on it slowly and tease him
there with my fingers, allowing him a bit of pleasure so that he thinks
maybe it will all be over now. I even tell him to get on his knees and
rub his ass. I notice his shoulders slumping as he rubs, looking down
at the ground. Taking his head in my hand, I look at him and with my
other hand rip off his nipple clamps. He calls out and his head goes to
the floor. I get down on my knees in front of him and rub them in mock
sympathy, but actually it made me very excited. Producing the binder
clips in my hand, he looks down and breathes deeply and faster in
preparation of their wrath. His stomach muscles tighten as I place them
on slowly, the pressure so great it almost looks like they'll snip
right off. Standing up, I say, "Open," and he lifts his head as I give
him a nice thick dollop of saliva in his mouth. "Thank you, ma'am,"
then looks down again, swallowing and bravely accepting that I'm nowhere
near finished.
"Go
fetch a pillow from the couch." He does so, his posture slight and
careful, different from the awkward cowboy from before. He comes back
and puts the pillow under his hips and lays down on the bondage bed on
his stomach. He is careful not to lay down the wrong way so as to
disturb the binder clips. I take a brown hemp rope from the closet,
untie it and wrap him with it just above and below his ass, framing it
so that it stands out and also securing him down with the metal eye
hooks on either side of him. I tie his ankles in place with leather
cuffs and leave his hands free so he can clasp them to his chest in
prayer :) I know exactly which cane I want to use on him... the thick
rattan, as I am in the mood to give him more thudding pain, and besides,
it sings so sweetly before it strikes. I take it out of it's sheath
and look at the muscles in his back, my eyes following down the length
of his spine to his ass. It's purple, red, magenta, combinations of
striations and dots make need to touch it. It's very hot, the majority
of heat coming off the apple part of his ass. The perfection is ruined,
and positioned to be ruined further.
I
always breathe very heavily when I am caning. One has to slow down,
take aim. Sometimes my nose runs too... not the most ladylike thing,
but a physiological response similar to what is happening between my
legs with this activity.
I
rub the cane back and forth on his ass, one arm behind my back in an
official posture. I stand slightly sideways, and make sure my wrist is
straight. I tap his ass and it makes a knocking sound as it is quite
hard at this point. His cheeks tighten in preparation. It is hard to
describe the satisfaction of caning although I will say the sounds are a
large part of it. The whistle of the cane through the air, and the
almost wet thwack it makes on striking. One can also feel when the
implement has sailed true, and it is similar I would think to when an
arrow hits it's target. Clearly the marks when in alignment and kept
solely to the ass and thighs are a demonstration of skill on both
Mistress and slave's parts.
I
don't play games with him. I don't make him count the strikes, and do
not give him an idea of when I will stop. I do not wail on him. I feel
calm. The strikes measured. I watch each strike form a straight
lipstick line across his cheeks. I rub the cane slowly back and forth
on his ass before striking. Alternating with my hand, I feel the
indentations that my work has left, and notice that he has again relaxed
into the pain.
To be continued...
