Madame B: Desire

Now that it's just the two of us, Leroy's normally soft voice has acquired a hard edge. He pulls me over to him by the chains that bind my wrists and ankles, and snarls into my ear. "Okay, this is how it is," he says. "I own you now. So I control your pleasure. I can do whatever I want to you, but you are not allowed to take any gratification from my acts or to come until I give my permission. You may not deny any request of mine. And you may not speak unless I say so or ask a direct question. Is that clear?"

I bite my lip and nod, trying to control my breathing. The good thing about my eyes being downcast is that I can focus on Leroy's crotch. I wonder if it's as lean and mean as the rest of him. What will he do with it? Where will he fuck me? My mouth? My ass? My pussy? All three are crying out for a harsh pounding from a merciless cock.

"Good," he says as I nod. "Because I've paid good money for you. I hope you won't disappoint me."

"No, Master," I say, and then gasp sharply as he delivers a slap to one of my tits. I watch as pink fingerprints appear on the tender pale flesh around my nipples. As the rush of his touch subsides, the other nipple begins to engorge and darken, eager to receive a similar punishment, but he will not satisfy my longing.

"Did I give you permission to speak?" he snarls. I shake my head, and he marches me over to a corner of the room where there is a three-walled cage with various hooks and chains hanging from its bars. Leroy tugs the chains that still hang from the handcuffs on my ankles and wrists and attaches them to four little hooks so that I'm splayed like a starfish. My legs are as far apart as they can possibly go, and it's uncomfortable from the moment I assume the position. I wonder how much more discomfort I can take. My arms are yanked half out of their sockets, causing my breasts to rise so that my nipples are tightly constricted. They now bulge out through the holes in my bra. My skirt rides up around my waist so that my pussy is out there for the world to see.

"Are you comfortable?" asks Leroy, his face deadly serious. I've been here before. Trick questions. Say no, that's what they want to hear, and they'll neglect me for the rest of the night, deny me the more extreme pleasure I crave. Say yes, and he'll get vicious, crank it up to a level that's beyond even my depraved desires. Ah, what the fuck. I can handle it. Bring it on.

"That's very comfortable, master," I say, and as I do, I wince as he pulls the chains tighter so that I'm totally suspended now. The most intimate, vulnerable areas of my body-my inner thighs, my underarms, the underside of my breasts, oh, and my pussy-are all exposed, utterly vulnerable, his to pleasure or abuse, whichever he chooses. I close my eyes and wait for the first stroke of the whip, the slap of the paddle, not knowing which instrument of torture Leroy's going to use on me first, but my whole body is alive and trembling in anticipation.

What happens instead totally unnerves me. First of all I feel warm sweet breath on my face and then a pair of soft lips is on mine. This gentle, respectful kiss shocks and thrills me more than a thousand lashes of the whip. Leroy holds still for a while and then probes my lips with his tongue, trails it across my teeth, explores the inside of my mouth while my mind races. I'm not used to this, and his soft touch is really disarming me. Then he turns his attention to my nipples, which are puffy. I yearn for his touch, his teeth on my tits, a harsh pinch, perhaps. As Leroy's head bends to my breasts I notice them stiffen and harden in anticipation of his touch. When he does take them one-by-one in his mouth, his touch is as tender and sensitive as any I've known. I feel the warmth of his lips transfer itself to my pussy, which starts to pound and throb. This slow, exquisite torture is more intense than any whip or chains. Then he's back up at my mouth, kissing me, harder this time, and it's like he's got a link directly to my clit. He takes my lower lip in his mouth and sucks gently at first, then more forcefully. As he becomes more aggressive and greedy, I'm finally receiving stimulation that I understand and love. This is the masterful behavior I was expecting, that I was psyched up for. As he takes my lip between his teeth and bites down hard, I arch my back, my whole body suddenly suffused with a burning fire that only some heavy fucking will quench. For the first time, I verbalize the desperate need that my body is sending to my mind but that I won't be allowed to cry out: "I need to come. I need to come. I need to come."

Leroy pulls away from me, and when he does, I see a spot of blood on his lower lip. I suck my own lip and realize it's mine; he's broken the skin. A crowd is gathering now, and I love the fact that they can all see how I've been marked by my master, branded as his property with a tiny cut on my lip and a red smear on my chin. He reaches into a bag at the foot of the cage and produces a tiny chrome rod that looks like a mascara wand. When he clicks a switch and the sleek little bar begins to buzz and hum, I know that it's not makeup he's got in mind. Standing at arm's length, I find his very distance from me a form of torture in itself. Doesn't he know that my body is his to use and abuse? Doesn't he know how my flesh craves to be pressed up against his?-Leroy traces the vibe across my splayed body, tickling me under the arms and behind the knees. To giggle is totally forbidden, and I have to strain every nerve in my body and bite down into my own shoulder to suppress the uncontrollable squeals that build up inside me. As I buck and writhe, I'm so wildly turned on that I can't obey my body's most basic instincts.

Then, with a firmer touch, he holds the vibe to my nipples, which tingle and throb until the extreme sensation is almost unbearable. That's when he points the silver stick between my legs, almost-but-not-quite touching my pussy lips. I'm mortified to see that a droplet of juice spills from my naked, swollen pussy and lands on the floor, where it sits like a tiny pearl. For me to take pleasure from Leroy's abuse is forbidden. Will he notice? Of course he does. Nothing escapes this master's attention.

"Are you aroused?" he says, accusingly. "I don't remember giving you permission to get turned on." I shake my head, knowing that my body has betrayed me and that it's too late. He pushes the toy against my pussy lips. From my restrained position I can't see my sex, but

I'm sure my pleasure must be obvious in my throbbing, pulsating pussy for all to see. Then he puts it on my clitoris. As the tension builds in my sensitive little bud, my arms and legs begin to ache, and my whole body yearns for release.

"Do you want someone inside you?" asks Leroy

"Yes, master," I somehow find the strength to say.

"Who do you want inside you?" he demands.

"You, master," I half pant, half scream.

"How much do you want it?"

"I will die if you don't fuck me," I say, and I mean it.

From his pocket he pulls a condom, a red rubber one covered with ridges and nodules. I thrill at the sight of it. I'm so sopping wet that I'm going to need some rough, heavy stimulation if I'm to feel his prick inside my hole. He pushes into me roughly, mercilessly, and I feel each rubber bobble tickle and scrape the inside of my cunt. I'm so hot that it only takes two or three thrusts for it to happen. My pussy floods with clear liquid and my whole body convulses as the red-hot tremors overwhelm me.

Leroy takes me down from the handcuffs, and I collapse in a heap on the floor, arms and legs tingling as the blood flows back into them. My body is limp and woozy with satisfaction, but my mind is already reeling, so pleased with what I've just experienced that I can't help but be disappointed that it's over. Or is it? As I feel Leroy's hands grab my hair and yank me to my feet, I feel a fresh wave of excitement engulf my body. "Come with me, slave," he says, pulling me so hard by the hair that I have no choice but to follow where he leads me. He marches toward a private room at the back of the club, puts his hand on the door handle, and turns to me with a wink and a nod to the clock. It's not quite four a.m. yet. "I still own you for the next six minutes," he says. "And you haven't made me come yet."