A crafty submissive’s playful ruse leads to a night of profound pleasure for him and his mistress.

“you wouldn’t believe my day,” Freddy said as he entered the living room and hung his coat on the rack in the corner.

I caught him sizing me up, and I returned the favor.

I didn’t speak. My eyes were locked on the lipstick on his collar. It was very noticeable, a pale pink smear right under his chin. I looked at it, thought about how to proceed, and then stood and came toward him. Freddy was already telling me about the disastrous lunch meeting he’d had with would-be clients, but I tuned out his complaints.

I’ll admit I was surprised by that little pink mark. Freddy and I have an open relationship, but we tell each other when we’re going to be with another lover. Those are our rules, and we’ve always adhered to them. Another facet of our relationship is that I’m dominant and Freddy is submissive. A casual observer might not catch on to that fact right away. I’m a slender blonde, barely five-and-a-half feet, while he’s six-foot-two, broadly built and muscular. But there is more to our relationship than what can be seen on the surface.

I hold his fantasies in my fist. He lives to please me.

“What’s this?” I asked, pointing to the stain on his collar.

Freddy turned a shade of pink darker than the lipstick. There seemed to be an electric charge in the air. Something wicked was about to unfold. I felt it in   my bones.

“Terry,” he said, naming his executive secretary. I’d met the woman multiple times, and I wasn’t jealous. At least, not exactly. But I wanted more information.

“Terry what?” I asked. “Terry face-planted on your shirt?”

“She was just being friendly,” he said. “It wasn’t a big deal. She was thanking me for something…”

“With her mouth? Did she blow you?”

He shook his head. “No, just a kiss.”

“On your collar.”

“Not my real collar.”

His words lit a fire in me.

“Wait here,” I told him. He gave me a look of desire mixed with trepidation. That look rocked me to my core. I went and snagged Freddy’s slave collar from my jewelry box and returned to buckle the strip of leather around his neck. His cock was already tenting his slacks. He must have guessed what my response would be when I’d discovered the lipstick.

“On your knees,” I demanded. “Now.”

He dropped to the floor and awaited my next command.

I used a scarf for a blindfold and had him face the corner while I prepared myself. In the bedroom, I put on one of my favorite catsuits, made of shiny black rubber. The outfit awakens the domme in me and makes me feel supremely sexy.

When I returned to my kneeling mate, I saw him massaging his erect cock through his pants. He must not have sensed my presence — either that, or he was testing me. Either way, I was suitably annoyed by his impudence. I smacked his hand away and made him unbuckle his belt and hand it to me.

He definitely deserved to be punished, and I was the woman to do it.

I ordered him to take off the rest of his clothes, allowing him to stand while he stripped. When he removed his pants, something fell from the pocket and rolled across the carpet. I snatched the item from the floor. As soon as I had the tube in hand, I understood. It was lipstick. Pink lipstick. Freddy had colored his own collar!

I planned on having fun with this. What a delicious little revelation!

“Tell me about Terry,” I said teasingly.

He balked. To me it seemed he was trying to figure out what words would please me. Should he paint a picture that would turn me on, or should he tell me the truth? That’s how I interpreted his hesitation.

“Tell me,” I insisted, slapping his ass with the belt one time. He gasped and flinched, and my pussy released a little burst of wetness.

I faced him, studying his features and watching him war with his thoughts for another long moment.

“Nothing happened,” he said. “Honestly. She must have smeared her lipstick when she kissed my cheek. Or something like that. She was grateful because I told her she could cock out early.”

“Cock out?”

“Speaking was becoming ever more difficult for him, which gave me a charge.”

He shook his head.

“No, clock out,” he repeated forcefully. “She was going to meet her boyfriend. Really, Dana. Nothing happened.”

I knew what he said was a lie and decided to torment him mercilessly.

I adore reducing my hunky take-charge boyfriend to a helpless plaything. All day long, he bosses other people around in the office. What would his employees think if they knew what he was like at home? How he lives to serve? How he yearns to kiss the soles of my shoes, to crawl after me on his hands and knees, to bury his face in my pussy and lap at my clit until I tell him to stop?

I attached a leash to his collar and took him for a walk down the hallway, ready to get our playdate underway in a more serious fashion. Every few paces, I used his own doubled-up leather belt to stripe his haunches. He was already totally enthralled, his mind tipping into ecstatic sub space. It was a beautiful sight.

When we finally arrived in the bedroom, I rubbed my body against his, teasing him with the slippery sensation of my latex-clad form. The crystal chandelier above us made rainbows on the walls, and the reflected light bounced against my shiny catsuit. However, Freddy could see none of that as his vision was still blocked by the blindfold. He kept whispering to me over and over that nothing had happened between him and his scrumptious blonde secretary.

“I believe you,” I assured him. “But tell me what you want to happen with her. Every single detail. What happens in your head when you dream about her, you dirty, dirty boy.”

As I spoke, I bound him to our bed frame by cuffing each wrist. He was splayed out for me, his cock pointed at the ceiling. I slid on a pair of elbow-length velvet gloves and began to stroke his straining dick. He sucked in his breath as I cupped his balls with one hand while caressing the slit in his cockhead with the thumb of the other. He was quickly getting lost in a hazy world of pleasure. Speaking was becoming ever more difficult for him, which gave me a    charge of excitement.

“I don’t know,” he started slowly. “I’ve never thought about it before.”

“Liar!” I spat, releasing his dick. He immediately raised his hips, trying to find my hand once more. I went to our dresser and pulled open the top drawer. The sound told him I was up to something. He had a basic idea of the supplies within. I grabbed a butt plug and a new pair of gloves, swapping the velvet for latex before lubing up my fingertips and toying with his pucker. Freddy jolted at my touch, his body stiffening as I worked my slickened fingers in and out of his back hole.

I leaned down and took the tip of his cock between my lips, surprising him so much that he exclaimed, “I picture you topping us both!”

That was better. That was my Freddy, living to serve in so many ways. He was giving me precisely what I craved, a filthy story I could latch on to. I let him feel the lubed-up butt plug pressing against his hole for a second before I rammed it inside, making him groan. Then I used my gloved hand to resume my stroke job in his cock. Freddy made a low humming sound in his throat as he was tormented front and back.

As I worked him, I thought of the last time I’d taken charge of him and another lover. We’d invited one of his bowling buddies over for dinner, and afterward, I’d put both men in their place. Jake had eagerly accepted when Freddy had offered the invitation to play. I think he’d already figured out I was the one who wore the pants in the family — even if my pants were adorned with rhinestones.

“I imagine you topping both of us,” Freddy continued to babble. “The two of us naked and submissive. You taking turns punishing and pleasing us. I think about you using a flogger on her and then on me, back and forth between the two of us, daring either of us to come without your permission. Promising a reward to whoever manages to obey you the longest.”

“Are you blindfolded?” I asked. “I mean, in your daydreams.”

Of course he was blindfolded at that moment. I smiled to myself.

“Sometimes,” he admitted. “Other times you make me watch. You tie me to a chair, and I see everything. I’m helpless and can’t touch my cock — but I’m still on the verge of climaxing anyway.”

I could easily picture the scene. “Then what?”

“I come without your permission, and you fuck me with your strap-on.”

He had put some thought into this fantasy. I was enjoying myself more and more as he continued to spill his sexy confessions. I noticed his dick was leaking pre-come and his breathing was erratic. My pet, my darling, my Freddy was turning himself on with his own story! His arousal fed mine.

“Does she watch me fuck you? Does she see me buckle on the harness and bend you over?”

“Yes,” he said, his voice barely a whisper. I could have leaned in closer to hear him better — except that’s not my style.

“Speak up!” I demanded, tugging his balls for emphasis.

“Yes! But sometimes she’s blindfolded, listening to the sounds that you and I make, knowing her turn is coming up next. That you’re going to use the strap-on to plow her pussy or maybe even her asshole.”

I appreciated all of the erotic images he was painting for me, so I rewarded him again by bobbing my mouth on his cock once more, taking him even deeper. He sighed and bucked his hips on the mattress, desperate for more.

But I was feeling impatient, too. I needed some gratification of my own. I released his dick from my lips, then unzipped the crotch of the catsuit before climbing astride him. One thigh was on either side of his hips, and I slowly impaled myself on his erect cock, gradually taking him from tip to base. As I descended, he held himself entirely still, as if he was worried that even a simple flinch on his part would make me stop what I was doing and withhold his release.

I didn’t want that, and he didn’t want that. Pleasure was my number-one goal for the evening. But that didn’t mean I’d give up the game of being his domme.

From my position, I had unfettered access to his nipples. First, I pinched them both at the same time, making him bite his bottom lip. Then I tugged on his nubs, and he let loose with a little bark, a yip of pain tinged with erotic delight that thrilled me to my wicked core. What was next for Freddy’s nipples? My mouth, of course. I leaned forward and captured one between my teeth. He bucked upward, lifting his hips — and me — into the air. I freed his nipple long enough to warn him to stay still.

“Behave,” I hissed, “or suffer the consequences.”

Freddy apologized profusely. “I’m sorry, Mistress. I couldn’t help myself, Mistress. You feel so fucking good, Mistress.”

I smiled because he couldn’t see my face with the blindfold in place. I love when he’s at that stage, willing to do whatever I say, whatever I want.

“I leaned down and took the tip of his cock between my lips, surprising him.”

I resumed my torture of his nipples, now capturing the other one and bestowing the same cruel treatment I’d given its mate. This time, Freddy didn’t move or beg or lift me in the air, but his breathing stuttered. His supplication turned me on intensely, and my pussy tightened and released on his powerful pole as spasms of pleasure wracked my body.

When I could wait no longer, I slid off him and cleaned his cock with my tongue, lapping up my own flavorful juices, a rare act. Often I leave him in the cold while I wring my satisfaction from him. But that night, with the lights playing over his supine form, his wrists cuffed over his head and his blindfold in place, I was touched by the sight of his total submission.

He was a thing of beauty.

That didn’t mean I let him climax. The night was just beginning. We had many different methods to pass the time before I would allow him to shoot.

Swiftly, I swiveled around into a 69. Freddy could have guessed what I wanted; my pussy was poised above his mouth, after all. He had to sense my proximity and smell the scent of my arousal. But he was well behaved. He didn’t lick me. He didn’t suck me. He didn’t make any move at all. He was still and silent, waiting for my next command.

I pushed my pussy against his lips.

He did not flinch.

I ground my snatch against his face.

He was immobile.

“Lick me,” I finally demanded. That was all he needed to hear. He aggressively worked his tongue between my nether lips, nuzzling his nose against me and butting me with his chin, before thrusting his tongue in deep to savor my fragrant dew.

I decided to play a game of punishment and reward. When he made me feel particularly good, I circled his cockhead with my tongue. If he ramped up my pleasure even higher, I let him feel my wet lips slide along the length of his shaft. But if he somehow missed the mark and left me yearning, I tugged on his balls and pushed on the plug in his ass.

He cottoned on quickly to what I was doing. Soon, we were in tandem, him treating my clit as if it were the sweetest piece of candy and me delivering a blissful blowjob.

Then I got off, but he didn’t. Not yet anyway.

“I impaled myself on his erect cock, gradually taking him from tip to base.”

Such is the life of a sub. I jammed my cunt against his face, and my thighs tightened around his head as my body quaked. I writhed atop him as I rode out the waves of my pleasure. He was stoic in his mastery of his own release, staving off his orgasm with the type of finesse that takes years to master.

He’s had years. Trust me.

I fell at his side on the mattress. Explosions of excitement were still pinging through me. Freddy didn’t say a word. His poor cock twitched, but that was it. Again, I smiled to myself. Good boy, I thought. Then I said the words aloud. Upon hearing the compliment, Freddy’s cock did more than twitch. It positively twanged.

“You’re such a good boy. I’ll let you choose your reward.”

I pulled the blindfold from his eyes and looked down at him. He stared up at me, and I saw hope in his eyes.

“You have two choices,” I explained. As I spoke, I stroked his cock. I sensed the warring factions inside him. He was trying his best to pay attention, but my toying with his dick was making thinking difficult for him. That didn’t make me stop. I live to torment him, after all.

“What are my choices, Mistress?”

“Choice one” — I gave his dick a firm tug — “I get to fuck you.” I emphasized this choice by pushing on the plug in his ass, so he’d understand those words meant I’d be pounding his ass. Then I continued, saying, “Choice two is that you get to fuck me.”

I watched the changing expressions of his face. Freddy seemed to be weighing one option against the other and wondering if there was some sort of ulterior motive behind either or both. As if he was waiting for the other dirty shoe to drop. Then he finally said, “Please, Mistress, may I fuck your pussy?”

I unlocked his cuffs before saying, “You may.”

But Freddy didn’t make any advance, awaiting my next instruction. Fucking me could mean so many things. Maybe I’d climb on board his cock in a reverse cowgirl and demand he buck his cock up into me. Maybe I’d want to be taken missionary style.

I enjoyed making him wait. Especially, since I’d already reached my first orgasm. I wasn’t as jacked up as he was, but despite that, he maintained his poker face.

“How would you like me to do you?” he asked.

I have spent so many evenings training him. I’ve gotten him to the exact place I love best: totally committed to my pleasure.

 “I’m feeling magnanimous this evening. Tell me how you want me,” I said, waiting for him to speak.

Freddy seemed as if he could hardly believe his good luck. He positioned me on all fours and got behind me. He still had that plug in his ass, though. So with every thrust, he would know who was really in charge, with every shift of his hips or thrust of his cock, he would know I was the one holding the reins — or the leash, as it were.

He eased the tip of his cock inside my pussy. I was still wet from the beautiful job he’d done eating me out earlier. His big, fat dick slipped inside me without hesitation. Then he found a rhythm that worked for both of us. I could sense how turned on he was, and yet I also knew in my heart he wouldn’t get off before he brought me to another orgasm. That’s my boy.

“May I touch your pussy?” he asked breathlessly.

“You may,” I answered, trying to mask my own excitement.

Freddy brought his hand to my split and crested my clit with three fingers. I nearly hummed with pleasure. Just that one touch brought me a soothing wave of bliss, but then it got even better. He pushed those fingertips hard against me, rotating them with the perfect amount of pressure as he worked me the way I’ve taught him.

He stroked me to perfection as he pumped his cock in and out of me, making my arousal spiral upward at an ever-increasing rate. I tried to silence my cries, but the moment was too perfect and my feelings to intense to hide as my climax rushed over me. I came loudly, shouting and shivering. I managed to give him permission to join me, and seconds later, he shot his warm cream into my spasming pussy.

I pulled forward and turned to look at him, saying, “I know you put that lipstick on yourself.”

His mouth opened and shut as he struggled to form a response.

There was no way I could be angry. His little ruse had sparked a gloriously sexy night.

“But next time you come home with lipstick on your collar,” I continued, “you’d better bring home a girl who left it there.”

He laughed and kissed me, promising to follow my order to the letter.

I was certain I’d spy lipstick on his collar again before too many days had passed — and I couldn’t wait!

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