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Power Struggle (Part1)

"Prologue: He is her slave...or is he?"

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So here we are, you, kneeling - pathetically - on the floor as if doing homage to the goddess that sits above you: me, in my leather and lace, and you, completely naked. I'll bet all your friends see you as a proper Jack the Lad, never taking any crap from women, but we both know better, don't we?

The mark across your chest is just coming up, where my spiteful little whiplash has punished you for the crime of daring to ask if you can lick my crotch. By now I should hope you know I mean business. I keep the tools of my trade hidden away from prying eyes in this room, but I think it's time you saw a glimpse of what I am capable of doing to your so-called masculinity. I instruct you to stay where you are, and cross the bedroom to the wardrobe.

But there are no clothes in it, of course. Just dark shapes hanging there. The light catches the occasional glint of a metal stud, a buckle, or perhaps a portion of chain. I bend over and fish out several items from the bottom. I know you are looking at my ass - I want you to. But it's not MY ass you should be thinking about.

I return to the bed and lay out these items. One looks like a small lightbulb except it is metal and knobbled with studs. Another looks like a pump, with a bulb to squeeze, like the kind that inflates a blood pressure cuff in a doctor's surgery. There is no mistaking the third item, a long, black cock, thick as a child's arm, fixed to a sturdy belt. The last item is a wand on which are moulded a series of plump anal beads. I enjoy the uncertain look on your face as you take all of this in.

"So." I begin, taking up my former seat before you, my legs wide. I lean towards you and my cleavage rises and spills a little over my corset. "What to do with that big mouth of yours?"

I catch you sneaking a hopeful look between my legs again. Truth be told, I'm very wet and having trouble making this last as long as it needs to, and that thought alone incenses me - it pricks at my pride.

I stand up and slowly pull my panties down, you start to look up at me, but I swat your face down with a gloved hand - "Eyes on the fucking floor, boy." My panties land on the floor in front of you and I sit back down, my cunt exposed, waiting, hungry, even, but I won't even let you look at it.

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You shuffle slightly to the side, your knees are probably sore but I have no sympathy.

"So." I repeat, idly flicking my clit as I speak. "You figure you can please me, do you? Yes, you can reply."

You think for a moment.

"If Mistress will allow me."

I take your jaw in a firm grip and snarl.

"Like most men, you are a fool. No-one as worthless, inept and disobedient as you could possibly please me. But I might deign to let you worship me. And after worship there must be an offering of course."

You look confused but wisely remain silent.

I spread my legs a little wider and lean back on the bed. "This is your altar. Now give your goddess her due."

You move so quickly I am jolted back on the bed as you bury your entire face in my cunt. I allow you to hug my thighs and lift them slightly as you work your lips and tongue into my heat. You are feeding on me like a starved wolf, your tongue flipping and flicking everywhere it can, your breath coming in short frenzied gasps. I feel my flesh swelling as your teeth grind lightly at me, your lips suck at my lips and clit and I sigh. In short - I am impressed.

Your grip tightens on my thigh and your nails tear the tops of my stockings, I debate whether or not to stop you as my juices pump down your throat. Suddenly you are shaking your head briskly from side to side sending electric sensations through my tenderest parts - Your nose rattling against my clit is almost unbearable . I fling out an arm to clutch the side of the bed and one of the toys there rolls off - this brings me back in an instant. "Enough!"

You fall back, your face dripping with my juice, panting and looking triumphant.

I take a deep breath and flick a knot of hair from my face. We look at each other.

You dare to smirk at me. Mistake.

(To be continued)

(Be gentle with me, this is my first attempt at this kind of writing)

Published 
Written by MinaMiranda
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