My girlfriend and I aren’t exactly strangers to the fetish lifestyle. We’ve been playing regularly — almost always with Sara topping me — practically since we first met, and those scenes have been among the hottest experiences of my life. But she always seems to find a way to take things to a whole new level.

Just last week, for example, we were enjoying a lazy weekend at home, both of us horny, but neither of us feeling ambitious enough to really do anything about it. Eventually, Sara began fondling me through my shorts, almost absentmindedly, stroking my cock and squeezing gently at the head until I was as hard as a rock. Suddenly I was feeling incredibly ambitious.

“Do you like that?” Sara whispered. I could tell my dickhead had started oozing pre-come, always a sign that I’m raring to go.

“What do you think?” I asked, squirming a little. I kept my eyes locked on hers, almost daring her to continue. And Sara, let me tell you, has very sexy eyes. They’re big and blue, and go beautifully with her black hair and fair skin. They have a way of catching my gaze and captivating me — just another part of her dominant nature.

“I think you’ve got a good hard dick, and that I should do something with it,” she countered, sounding amused. “Any suggestions?”

“We could fuck,” I offered. I wanted to do exactly that: climb on top of Sara, press her back onto the couch and push my dick into her up to the root.

I could tell she wanted that as well, but instead of leaning back and parting her legs to invite me into her pussy, she said cryptically, “I think I’d like to play a little, too.”

It was obvious another plan was percolating in her mind, and as horny as I was, I was curious to see what she’d do. But I didn’t have to wait long — just long enough to nod my consent.

“Strip,” she said. “I want you naked.”

There wasn’t much to take off, but I obeyed. Sara wasn’t exactly overdressed herself. All she had on was a pair of jeans, a bra and her favorite lipstick. Yet she looked absolutely poised, and as completely in control as I’d ever seen her. She was partially curled up in her seat, with one long leg hanging down and her bare foot kicking idly against the couch as she appraised my naked body.

I stood there awaiting further orders, gooseflesh rising on my skin. There’s something about being naked in front of Sara when she isn’t. I felt exquisitely small and humble. She didn’t need cuffs or chains to make me feel that way, but I wasn’t exactly surprised when she pulled a set of cuffs out from under the couch.

“Turn around,” Sara said, and I did, automatically offering her my wrists to be cuffed. When I heard the metallic sound of the cuffs clicking shut — and Sara’s throaty little chuckle — I felt a delicious surge of warmth in my balls, a sensation that comes when I’ve completely surrendered myself to her.

I heard noises behind me, those of Sara likely reaching under the couch for another item. It could have been almost anything, but I was bound by our well-established rules not to sneak a peek. So I just stood there, looking at the floor, with my mind racing as I tried to guess what Sara was going to spring on me.

Next, I felt her long nails sliding with maddening slowness over my shoulders, down to my ass and back up to scratch the nape of my neck. I’d just recently gotten a trim, and the hair there was very short. The feeling of Sara’s nails rustling through it was delicious — and also ticklish. I felt my shoulders rising, but she made a single sharp noise, a warning sound you’d use to discipline a dog. I forced my shoulders down again and waited patiently.

Next, something black and soft moved over my eyes, robbing me of my vision. It was a blindfold. I had told her once before that I found the idea of being blindfolded uniquely erotic — and also a bit scary. One of my very first experiences with a mistress had involved being blindfolded, and I’ll never forget the feelings of helplessness and loss of control that came when my sight was taken from me.

Sara stepped closer until I could feel her warm breath on my neck and her tits grazing my back. Anything could have happened at that point. She might have slipped a lubed-up finger into my asshole, tickling my sphincter with slippery goodness as she prepared me to receive a butt plug, or she might have simply bitten and kissed my ear, driving me deeper into squirming fits of sensual pleasure.

Instead, I felt her fingers fluttering against my rigid prick, her nails and fingertips brushing teasingly against my rod. I gasped and helplessly shuffled my feet.

“Stay still,” Sara ordered. She flicked her nail against my bobbling cockhead — not too hard, just enough to deliver a fleeting spark of pain. Then she continued running her nails over my cock and balls, driving me crazy. I have a thing about long fingernails. I find the sensation of them is more than just ticklish; it makes me want to jump out of my skin. I love it, and it gets me hot as hell, but at the same time I can’t stand it.

And when I can’t see from where or when the next stroke is coming, that makes it even worse. Or better, maybe. In any case, Sara was soon focusing on my balls, using a slow hand-over-hand motion to put my load on simmer. She was completely silent the whole time. I found myself whimpering, trying to provoke a response from her, but she wouldn’t bite.

Then, with no warning at all, the slow movement of her nails on my nads stopped. I stood holding my breath, but no new sensations came to replace it. I listened carefully for the whisper of Sara’s bare feet on the floor, in case she was repositioning herself for a fresh attack, but I heard nothing at all. I knew better than to call for her or plead for a hint of her whereabouts or intentions. I just had to wait.

Finally, I felt Sara’s hands settle on my shoulders, molding their palms and fingers around them and gripping me hard.

“Don’t move,” she whispered harshly. Her face was very close to mine, our noses almost touching. I caught a whiff of the mint tea she likes to drink on quiet afternoons. “Don’t you dare move, or I’ll keep you cuffed for the rest of the night.”

I didn’t think she would really do that, but I couldn’t know for sure. I did know she coulddo it. That was enough for me to behave.

Her hands moved off my shoulders, and the next thing I heard was the sound of fabric rustling somewhere just in front of me. Sara was removing her jeans — and maybe her bra as well. I smelled the warm, perfumed scent of her body, and my excitement immediately jumped a notch or three.

Sara’s fingers were once again roaming over my cock, pulling almost casually at it, as though to assure herself I was still hard for her. She took my shaft between her thumb and forefinger and pressed the head against something warm and wet, something fringed with stiff, scratchy curls. Her pussy. Then came the painfully slow, exquisite maneuvering of my cock, pulled by Sara’s hand toward her moist cleft.

We were going to fuck, all right, but it would be on her terms.

I couldn’t resist my body’s sudden urge to help the process along by rising on my toes and pushing myself toward Sara in an effort to drive my cock into her. And when I say I couldn’t help it, I mean it. The motion was completely reflexive on my part, happening before I was even aware of it. Sara’s hands jumped from my cock to my ass, digging her nails into my buns. It wasn’t agonizingly painful or anything, but the suddenness of it left no doubt of what it was: a punishment — and a warning. I knew if I misbehaved again I would feel something a lot worse than Sara’s nails.

“I said, don’t move,” Sara whispered harshly.

I apologized, feeling lucky we didn’t immediately jump from nearly fucking to a serious punishment. But standing still while Sara impaled herself on me in a standing position was one of the hardest things I’ve ever done — no pun intended. Once she got my cock inside her, my acrobatic girl wrapped both arms and one a leg around me and began thrusting. She was leaning into me to help steady herself, and even though I was standing on two legs, I was hard-pressed to avoid toppling over. I wanted badly to begin working my thighs, matching Sara’s rhythm and thrusts with my own. The desire to move with her rather than standing immobile while she fucked me was maddening.

But the sensation of being power-fucked by Sara more than made up for the difficulties. It was amazing to feel not only that I was pleasuring her, but doing it so passively, as though my body had been converted into a kind of human dildo. Then, too, it just felt so damned good. I had been worried I wouldn’t be able to stay hard for her under the circumstances, but that actually wasn’t a problem at all. The sensation of Sara’s pussy alternately enveloping me and releasing my dick was the sexiest thing I’d ever experienced. It was true domination; I belonged to Sara completely, every inch of me.

In a few moments, though, I had another challenge; I was trembling on the edge of dropping a giant load, and I didn’t want to do it until Sara gave me the word. Fortunately, she either sensed what was going through my mind or else she simply was ready to bring me to the climax we both wanted. With a loud growl, she pressed against me, gripping my shoulders tightly again as though they were handlebars of some kind.

“Come on,” she said, breathing the words into my ear. “Let it go. I want you to let it go now.”

And I did … just as she pulled back and released me. The sensation of spilling my load onto our living room floor was incredible. It gushed on and on, seeming to never end.

Sara removed my blindfold and handcuffs and then remarked, “Better clean that up.” She padded back to the couch and added, “Get two washcloths. After you finish with the floor, you can clean me. After that … well, we’ll see what happens.”

I hurried off to the bathroom, following Sara’s instructions. I couldn’t wait to see what else she would come up with.