Most women would love to date a man who lives to eat pussy.

But in my world, I live to have a boyfriend who earns mine. Yes, Peter adores going down on me. It’s one of his favorite things to do. But even more important is his desire to earn the right to pleasure me.

Five days a week, my beau wears an expensive suit and a designer tie and takes charge of boardroom meetings like nobody’s business. At nights, he wears a collar and sometimes a leash, and he takes charge of nothing at all. That’s not entirely factual. He takes charge of his libido. He takes charge of how hard his cock is and whether or not the blood is entirely drained from his brain to his dick. It’s important for him not to let lust make his decisions for him. If he is able to control his urges, to rein in his desires, then I reward him. If not, then he wins my wrath. But what’s most exciting is that we can never tell how an evening will unfold.

One night, I arrived home to find Peter already waiting for me. I could tell he needed me to take the edge off for him. But I didn’t yet know exactly what he wanted.

“Rough day at work?” I asked casually, standing before him in the living room. He dropped to his knees at my side. I petted his head almost absentmindedly, running my fingers through his hair. I’ve noticed that the more difficult a day he has, the more he desires to submit.

“I don’t want to talk about work,” he said quietly.

“Then what would you like to talk about?” I asked, my fingers now tracing over the collar around his throat. I thought of him buckling the leather strip into place. How different that collar is from one of his professional-looking silk ties.

“Your pussy,” he said meekly.

I hid a grin. I love talking about my snatch.

“What about my pussy?”

“How much I want to lick it,” he said humbly. “Lick it, and please you, Mistress. All I want to do is please you. I want to stick my tongue up in you. I want to lap at your clit.”

Inwardly, I sighed. I wanted everything he said. Peter knows how to work his mouth to bring me to the most incredible heights. He loves to deliver soft, slow strokes with his tongue until I clamp my thighs tightly, squeezing him and holding him in place so he won’t stop until I climax. He also knows how much I appreciate a perfect rim job.

There’s more to licking ass than simply licking ass, and Peter understands this fact. We’ve spent many pleasurable hours with me squatting over his mouth while he traces circles around my rosy asshole. I’ve reached climax from this action alone, with no further stimulation of my clit. An asshole orgasm is one of the most intense experiences.

But because of our relationship, I couldn’t immediately let him get what he wanted. As much as I might have desired to melt onto the floor and allow him to rip off my dress and go down on me, I needed him to jump through a hoop or two first. So is the relationship of a sub and a domme. At least where this sub and domme were concerned.

That would be difficult, though, because his words had riled me up. Undaunted, I led him to the bedroom and cuffed him to the chair across from the bed. The chair is positioned to face the mattress. When Peter is tethered there, he can see everything that goes on in front of him, but he can’t participate.

Once he was securely bound, I began to strip in front of him as I asked, “You want to lick my pussy?”

“Yes, Ma’am!” came the immediate response.

“This pussy?” I queried, pushing my hips forward so he could get a good look at my box.

“Oh God, yes,” he sighed. I twirled a fingertip inside my snatch and then spread my juices across Peter’s lips. He swallowed hard but didn’t lick my flavor away until I gave him permission. As soon as I did, he ran his tongue along his lips and savored the salty smear of flavor.

“You can lick my pussy when I’m ready to let you lick my pussy,” I told him. Truthfully, I was plenty ready, but didn’t want him to know that yet. “First, you can watch as I play with myself.”

His dick was fully erect; I could see it tenting his sweats. I wanted to touch him, but that would have given him too much pleasure. I couldn’t reward him so quickly; he needed to earn his release.

While his eyes followed my every move, I lay back on the bed, and I spread my thighs wide apart. Peter gazed at me through sex-glazed eyes. His cock seemed to be swelling even more. I could almost feel the heat coming off him in waves. My beautiful sub, I thought. All you want to do is please me.

Knowing exactly how to drive Peter out of his mind, I pretended he wasn’t even there as I started to touch myself. Peter exhaled hard, and his eyes were locked on my cunt. I could tell he wanted his tongue in me. He would’ve licked away every stray drop of my honey if I let him. But instead of allowing him to do so, I licked my own fingers. He muttered, “Fuck…”

“Excuse me?”

“That’s not fair,” he said, almost under his breath. I was thrilled. He was misbehaving. Now, I had something to work with. When he’s too easy, too malleable, I have to struggle. But he was pressing my buttons on purpose, the naughty boy.

“Who said anything about fair?”

“Fair” really isn’t a word that defines any part of our relationship.

He looked down in shame. He knew he should have bit his tongue, but sometimes submission is difficult for Peter. Sometimes he has to whip himself into a type of internal frenzy before he can give in. The way he’d presented himself to me that evening had been nothing but a facade. He’d been subbing on the surface, while he was still secretly self-serving on the inside.

I rubbed my pussy harder and faster. Peter’s lust showed all over his face as he tried to lift his hips and hump in desperation.

“Did I say you could move? Did I give you permission to squirm?”

He shook his head, his cheeks sporting hot pink circles.

“No, Mistress,” he muttered. “You did not.”

“Apparently, you’ve forgotten how to behave. Let’s have a refresher course.”

“He loves to deliver slow strokes with his tongue until I clamp my thighs.”

I got off the bed and untied him before yanking off his pants, then I cuffed him to the bedposts. His aroused dick pointed upward. Because I’m not actually made of stone, I couldn’t help myself; I gave his bulbous mushroom head a quick squeeze. He shivered all over but remained quiet. I think he was a little concerned. The fact that I had him tied again meant I was not done topping him. I knelt over him and let him get a good look at my pussy. It was shaved totally bare. I pulled my nether lips apart. Peter was looking right up at me. I stroked my clit. He moaned aloud. I drove two fingers inside myself, and he whimpered wordlessly.

I started to make the speedy rotations against my clit that always take me to the edge. I was taking care of all my own needs without any assistance from Peter. He was mere inches away from my box, and he couldn’t do anything about it.

“Let me lick your pussy!” he begged.

But he wouldn’t get to lick my pussy until I was ready to let him. And I wasn’t.

Instead, I grabbed one of my vibrators from the dresser and stood with one foot on either side of Peter’s head. I looked down at him. He was desperate. I liked that look. I was happy he revealed it to me. All day long, he wears his businessman’s aura like a cloak. In our private world, he is stripped down to his base level of yearning and exposes his true submissive self.

While he watched, I licked the tip of the vibrator and then thrust it inside my snatch. The dark purple wand disappeared all the way to the base. Peter released an almost pathetic groan. That gave me a kinky idea. I fetched my ball gag and rubbed it against my wet pussy. Then I buckled the gag into place between his lips. Now, he could taste my juices on the rubber ball, but he wouldn’t be able to beg any longer.

I repositioned myself above him on the mattress and started to thrust the toy in and out of my cunt. Peter made slurping noises. I drove the vibe inside my cunt and pulled it back out. He tried to twist on the bed, but I’d cuffed him well and the bindings held fast.

“Peter, you’re not going to have a shot at my pussy until I come.”

He tossed his head back and forth in frustration. I continued working my toy but with greater intensity — really fucking myself — and then, in a flash of white-hot bliss, I came.

My pussy was practically dripping, and his eyes were riveted on my sloppy snatch. He would have lapped up my juices if he could, I know. But gagged as he was, that was m impossible. I took pity on him and removed the gag. Then I squatted over his mouth. But he didn’t move. Finally, he was behaving and waiting for my go-ahead.

“Peter, do you want to tongue-fuck me?”

His affirmative was muffled against my cunt, but I understood what he was trying to say. He was trying to say, “Yes, Mistress, yes!”

So I gave him permission. I let him do exactly what he’d wanted to do since I’d first arrived home. The very thing I’d most wanted him to do, as well.

I swiveled myself around so I could stroke his naked cock while he jammed his tongue in and out of me and furiously licked my clit, bringing me to a second climax in no time.

I kept my hand in motion on his staff, even as he groaned against my wet flesh. With quick, expert strokes, I got him off and delighted in the sight of his come shooting from his shaft and splashing his belly.

In the end, we both got what we needed. As it should be. As it always is.

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